Chapter 32: Take Me to Church

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The church is a monstrous, looming thing. Stepping out of the cab, Nathan and I just stand there for a second, peering up at the bell tower jutting from its side. Wide stairs lead up to a set of heavy oaken double doors, stabbed through with iron bolts that form twin crosses. There’s something downright medieval about the structure: it’s all roughly hewn stonework with bits of color stuck in the cracks. Signs of what’s built up over the years and under the press of Chicago’s notorious weather.

Nathan licks his lips. I can feel the discomfort radiating off of him. I know for a fact that he’s been disowned by certain family members because of his love for men, and I can only imagine how uneasy he probably feels about going inside.

I reach out a hand and curl my fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. He blinks, then looks at me, letting out a laugh.

“I bet they’ve got a rack in the basement.”

“Oh,” I reply, “Without question.”

“Iron maiden, too.”

“Did you know there’s no historical evidence iron maidens were actually used to torture people?”

Nathan glances sideways at me. “…What?”

“Yeah. I guess it’s like some sort of widespread myth. Back in the day, folks started making up stories about them, but there are hardly any verified accounts of them being used.”

He gives me a strange look. “Lydia?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, but you’re a total nerd.”

“You’re just jealous of my superior intellect,” I reply haughtily, sticking my nose in the air. That gets a laugh out of him, and I see some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. “Come on,” I add, “Let’s rip this bandaid off.”

Giving him a clap on the shoulder, I begin heading up the stairs. After a moment’s pause, I hear him tromping up after me.

The doors are surprisingly easy to push open. To boot, I don’t hear any creepy creaking when I give them a shove, which tells me the hinges are well-oiled. The building is old - there’s no doubt about it - but it’s been cared for.

It’s not until we step inside that I realize just how great that care has been.

Beautiful stained glass windows are set in an alcove behind a stage which boasts an altar. Pews line either side of the sanctuary, the wood polished so highly that the seating gleams underneath the light of the chandeliers hanging above. I can see there are doors leading deeper into the church on the other side of the room, but they may as well be a million miles away, far out of reach.

We aren’t alone in the room. That’s the second thing I notice.

Dakota is here. He’s sitting on the stage, his hands folded in front of him, his elbows on his knees. He’s watching us carefully — no, he’s watching me carefully — trying to see what I’ll do. There’s such deep scrutiny in his gaze that it instantly puts me on edge. He’s waiting for something.

“You know,” I say, pitching my voice so it echoes across the long room at him, “When we asked for somewhere public, I was thinking like a coffee house or something. Somewhere with witnesses. So you can’t murder me.”

My words seem to fall on deaf ears. He says nothing — just continues to watch me with that sense of anticipation.

Then it hits me: he wants to see if I can walk inside.

I couldn’t get in his cabin, could I? Whatever wards kept William out pushed me out too. Or at least they made me hurt so bad they may as well have. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course the church is going to have something similar. Hell, I’m surprised I even managed to get past the threshold.

“Lydia?” Nathan asks, drawing up beside me. I can see the way he stares at Dakota, an expression of distaste and disappointment on his face. “You okay?”

Am I okay?

I take stock of myself. Wriggle my fingers. Roll my shoulders. I don’t feel much of anything — only the barest glimmer of something on my skin. It started off pretty mild at the cabin too though. If I step further in, there’s no promise I won’t just wind up proving to this guy that I’m precisely what he fears I am. And then he’ll probably shoot me. I have no doubt he’s armed, and I’m quite sure the gun will have bullets this time.

I grit my teeth. So what? I’m not a demon, right? So whatever that sensation was, it isn’t going to kill me. I’m just going to have to grin and bear it. William’s stuck in a damn cage somewhere, waiting for me to help him out for a change. I owe him one. I owe him way more than one, and there’s no way I’m going to leave him hanging just because I’m scared to hurt a little.

“Come on,” I say, and then I start walking forward.

The feeling begins to grow. That skittering across my skin, the jolts of electric shock that caused me to drop the grimoire in Dakota’s living room. I keep walking. The intensity cranks up a notch with each set of pews we pass. A ringing starts up in my head, growing higher and higher in pitch, as if there’s a radio in my brain and it can’t find the proper frequency. I curl my hands into fists at my sides and keep my gaze fixed on Dakota Hunter, who watches me like a hawk, unmoving.

“…Lydia, what’s wrong?”

Nathan’s question feels distant to me. I can’t turn my head to look at him — can’t break my concentration. I’ll be fine. I know I’ll be fine. I’ll…

I collapse as I take another step. The sensation is burrowing deeper into me, and I hear more than feel my knees hit the wooden floor. Nathan is immediately asking me what’s wrong again, grabbing me by the arm and trying to pull me to my feet. For a moment, I sincerely think I’m going to die. That I’ve made some kind of grave error. What was I thinking? I don’t actually know what the fuck I am anymore. William practically said as much. With my luck I’m probably the goddamn Antichrist and my head is about to explode.

Then, without warning, the feeling vanishes.

I gulp in a breath, filling my lungs and jerking my head up. I didn’t realize tears had started running down my face. Raising a hand, I touch my fingertips against my nose, feeling warmth there. When I pull them away, they’re smeared with blood.

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Dakota is staring at me with his lips slightly parted. I’m only ten feet away from him now, having walked almost the entirety of the sanctuary. He looks somewhere between shocked and terrified. Nathan is pulling me carefully to my feet, and I let him hold me up for a moment as I get my bearings.

“…See?” I say, my voice hoarse. “I’m. I’m not possessed.”

The Knight says nothing. I glance away from him for a moment, trying to orient myself again as the last sensation of tingling leaves my skin. There are two other people in the room with us now — I didn’t notice them enter while I was busy doing my best not to pass out. A small, stout woman in a nun’s habit is peering at me concernedly - and I’m not sure if she’s concerned about me or for me. Regardless, she has a wide-hipped, matronly sort of figure and a plain but sweet-looking face, her cheeks round and full.

Beside her, flanking Dakota on his left, is a man gunning to be her complete opposite.

There’s not an ounce of fat on him. He’s slim — ridiculously so — with a knife’s edge nose and such sharp, angular features that I’m pretty sure he could cut a diamond with his jaw. He’s wearing the black-and-white collar that even my uncultured ass knows means he’s a priest of some kind.

“She blew out the wards,” the knife-looking man says. I can hear the trepidation in his voice, and I go from feeling triumphant to mortified. Oh, god. What is he saying?

“No,” I begin. “No, wait, I…”

I see Dakota’s hand flicking toward his waist. I’ll hand it to him, he’s got lightning reflexes, even if he’s currently using them to put a bullet between my eyes. I hear Nathan let out a shout, grabbing me by the shoulders, probably planning to throw me behind him. No way in hell, I think. I plant my feet, getting ready to shove him down. I’m not letting Nate take a bullet for me. Forget about never forgiving myself — living with that kind of guilt would be worse than dying.

“Enough.”

The voice is level and assured. Dakota freezes in place, and while the priest wasn’t doing anything overtly, I get the sense that he stops some brewing action I’m not aware of. He’s watching me with piercing eyes. Blue eyes, sharp like a winter sky. They’re not pretty. They’re terrifying.

The nun, though. I blink as I realize she’s the one who spoke. Her hands are folded calmly over her stomach, and wisps of gray hair coil out of the edges of her hood. She smiles at me, the expression radiating kindness.

“Do you agree to the Rite, child?” she asks.

Cutting right to the chase then. A cold stone settles in my gut. What if I don’t pass it? William never mentioned what they’d do to me if I failed. Hell, he seemed pretty confident that wasn’t possible. But what if…?

What choice do I have?

“Yes,” I reply. Then, cautiously: “…What is it, if I may ask?”

“There’s no need,” says the priest. He gives his head a disbelieving shake back and forth. “You and I felt what she did. Do not sit here and tell me you think she’s anything but an abomination. There’s something inhabiting that girl, Jessica. I’m sure of it.”

“What did you just call me?” the nun’s voice is sharp, and she casts a withering glare toward the priest. He falls silent, swallowing nervously. Then:

“Forgive me, Arbiter. I spoke out of turn.”

She keeps her gaze on the man for a moment more, then turns her focus back towards me. I’m suddenly aware that of all the people in this room, she’s the one I should be looking out for. She must be the one in charge.

Which is weird, given she’s a nun. She’s a nun, right?

“Come here child,” Jessica says. She lifts a hand towards me as if in invitation. I see Dakota stiffen, watching me with barely restrained hostility. For a moment, I become nervous that his dog will come bounding out of nowhere, ready to rip my throat open. But no. There’s no movement anywhere else, and besides, I doubt they’d want its claws on this immaculate floor.

“Are you sure about this?” Nathan asks quietly. “I left the door open. I really don’t think he’d be stupid enough to shoot us when we’re visible from the street. Someone would hear it.”

Thank god for smart friends. I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, there’s the open doorway. There are people meandering by on the sidewalk, and a gust of wind billows in from outside. We could probably turn around and make a break for it. Surely Dakota wouldn’t be stupid enough to fire a gun in broad daylight in a church.

“We won’t hurt you, child,” Jessica murmurs soothingly. “Listen to me: you’re in a safe place now. This is a sanctuary. If there is something within you, something hurting you, we seek only to set you free.”

I turn back towards her, taking her measure. I’m not saying I’m psychic or anything, but I’ve definitely always been able to get vibes off of people. Good or bad. And I’m not getting a bad vibe from Jessica. Nothing about her makes me think she’s a liar. In fact, the impression I get is that she’s a frustrated mother trying to retrain her children with kiddie leashes. Dakota looks ready to spit, and the priest looks prepared to launch himself at me and stab me with his pointy chin.

“…Let me go,” I say to Nathan, keeping my voice gentle. “I’ll do it myself.”

“No way in hell.”

I turn towards him, raising my hands to press them against his cheeks. “Listen, you big oaf. You’re my best friend in the fucking world, you know that? Best friend I’ve ever had. And you’re way too fabulous to kick the bucket in some stingy old church.”

Nathan blinks at me, his eyes going glassy. “Lyds…”

“You drove all the way here to follow me. Consider yourself man of the year. But I gotta do this one on my own.” I clear my throat, then look toward Dakota and point a finger at him. “You shoot him and I swear to god I’ll haunt the shit out of you. I know for a fact I can do that now. Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

The knight furrows his brows at me, then glances at Nathan. Oddly, I see some of the hostility drain out of him as he watches the exchange. In its place is a growing look of confusion.

I refocus on the nun. Her face is impossible to read. She’s still smiling at me, all warmth and kindness. Everything about her screams trust me, and I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse.

Nevertheless, I walk towards her.

When I pass by Dakota, I can see his head swiveling to follow me out of the corner of my eye. The priest is tensed up like an attack dog still, and I get a fleeting image of him sinking his teeth into my neck. The thought makes me shudder.

I reach Jessica, raise my hand, and place it in hers.

Without skipping a beat, she draws something out of one of her long sleeves, something I hadn’t seen before. Time slows down as she whips it towards my face, and I think I’m dead. Oh god, I’m dead. I’m going to wind up haunting a church.

There’s a soft tsst sound. Nathan lets out an inarticulate cry, and I…

I’m misted in the face with a burst of harmless water.

I sputter in surprise, stumbling backward and very nearly falling off the stage. Jessica grabs my arm nonchalantly to steady me, her grip surprising in its firmness. I recover, blinking owlishly and wiping my face with my sleeve. “What,” I say, “…What was that?”

She shrugs, letting go now that I’ve found my feet, and holds up the item she pulled out. I stare at a simple plastic spray bottle, clear liquid sloshing about inside.

“Holy water,” she explains. “It doesn’t appear you’re smoking or your flesh is melting, so I’d say that you are in fact not possessed.”

“That…” I gawp, “That was the Rite?”

“It’s much more fanciful in normal circumstances, but I understand we’re rather pressed for time and I saw no need for drawing it out.” She artfully tucks the bottle away again, giving me a wink. “It seems you have an interesting story to tell us, Miss Grace. Dakota here has filled us in on what he can, but I have a feeling his version of events has quite a few holes. Isn’t that right, Mister Hunter?”

The priest glares at me. “She blew out the protection wards, Arbiter. Surely…”

“…You should go about setting them again, Bartholomew,” she interrupts, finishing the statement for him smoothly. “We wouldn’t want to be caught flat-footed by a real threat, would we?”

Bartholomew continues to fix me with that stare for a moment longer, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. Then he flares his nostrils and gives the woman a stiff bow before turning smartly on his heel and disappearing through one of the nearby doors, slamming it shut with a resounding thud behind him.

Jessica doesn’t deign to give this tantrum any of her attention. Her smile is still fixed on her face, and she makes a welcoming gesture by spreading her arms.

“Now that the unpleasantness is out of the way, I think the four of us should have a talk, yes?” Her gesture includes Dakota and Nathan as she sweeps towards the other door to the left of the stage, gesturing for us to follow.

I glance back at Nathan. He just stares at me for a moment, then lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I like her,” he mouths, voicelessly.

Dakota speaks up: “You should. There are few so devoted to protecting people from creatures like the one you’ve been traveling with.” I glance at him, and note that he’s looking straight at me as he says it.

I stare at the Templar, not bothering to answer. Something tells me I’m not going to be able to twist his arm into helping, but I might have better luck with this Arbiter of his.

“Best not keep her waiting,” Dakota adds. He follows on the nun’s heels, stepping crisply over the stage, and after a moment more of hesitation, Nathan and I follow.