Alain and Danielle crept up to the church together, sidling up to its side, taking care to stay out of the moonlight as best as they could. The front doors to the desecrated chapel were slightly open; through a crack in the door, light spilled out onto the ground, and within it, there was one shadow, moving back and forth as its owner moved about the church. Alain motioned with his head for Danielle to follow after him, and together, they both stepped up to the front of the church, and Alain gently opened the doors.

Inside the church, a single black-cloaked cultist stood at an altar, knelt in prayer beneath the large cross, which had been burned and inverted, then spotted with what appeared to be human blood. Alain's blood boiled at the sight of it, but he didn't allow his rage to overcome him; instead, he carefully moved up to the cultist, going so quietly that the cultist didn't notice him until it was too late.

In one motion, Alain drew his knife and plunged it into the side of the cultist's throat. Instantly, the man's eyes flew open in shock, and his hands went to the stab in his neck to try and stem the spurting blood, but it was no use. Arterial spray rocketed through the air, spattering against the nearby pews and walls while the cultist gasped for breath. Alain simply watched it happen; he sat back and waited for the man to lose consciousness, which happened within just a few seconds. As soon as he was down and motionless, Alain gave him one more stab straight to the brain for good measure, then motioned for Danielle to follow him.

"Come on," he said, flicking his knife a bit to clean some of the man's gore off the blade. "Let's keep moving."

Danielle swallowed nervously, but nodded and continued to follow after him as he moved further into the church. The way forward was lit only by a few sparse candles; shadows danced along the walls as they both advanced, Alain keeping his revolver in one hand and his knife drawn in the other. Eventually, they came to what appeared to be a storm cellar; Alain carefully reached out and opened the door, and they both stepped inside, their guns at the ready.

Like the earlier rooms, this one was lit only by sparse candlelight; one on each wall, from what Alain could see. Through the shadows, he was able to tell that they'd converted the cellar to a makeshift prison of some kind, with a wall of thick iron bars separating one half of the room from the other. And within the prison, a single figure sat, their leg chained to a spike in the floor. It didn't take much for Alain to recognize who it was.

"Sable!" he said, his voice coming out as a harsh whisper.

Sable lifted her head, surprise creeping across her face. "Alain…?" she whispered. "You're alive?!"

"Not so loud," he hissed. "Yes, I'm alive. Hang on, I'll get you out of here-"

"Wait!" she insisted as he reached out for the door to the cell. "There's a ward on those bars. It's preventing me from breaking out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that they cast some kind of binding ritual on them," Sable explained. "It's draining my strength simply by being near them. Normally, I'd be able to break my way out of here, either by going through the ceiling, or the walls, or the bars themselves, but I feel like my strength is being sapped just by being here. It's also preventing me from turning into a bat, so I can't get these damn shackles off, either."

She motioned to her leg, and to the chain attaching her to the floor. At that moment, a thought crossed Alain's mind.

"The train crash," he realized. "Are you hurt?"

Sable shook her head. "Not badly, I just got knocked out for a bit… have a bit of a massive headache, but nothing too bad, all things considered. You?"

"The usual – some scrapes, bruises, and a broken leg. But I'll live." Alain looked around. "Az isn't here?"

"No, I thought he was with you." Sable's eyes widened. "Hey, in the crash, you don't think he-"

"It'll take more than a train crash to put Az down, and you know that to be true," Alain said confidently. "He's out there somewhere, we just don't know where. If I had time, I'd investigate the rest of the train cars myself, but…"

He trailed off, but Sable shook her head. "Worry about him later. For now, we need to figure out how to get out of here, and how to stop the cult."

Alain blinked, surprised. "You know what they're planning?"

"No, they wouldn't tell me anything. But that guy in the red cloak – you say he had-"

"Yeah, I saw the book." Alain's eyes narrowed. "Az has some explaining to do, that's for sure. But for now, like you said, the priority is getting out of here. Do you know how to break the ward on those bars?"

"No, I don't," Sable said, grimacing. "But… the man in the red cloak was the one to set it up, that much I'm sure of."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"How can you know?"

"Because he's the one who keeps coming to see me."

"What?" Alain asked.

Sable grimaced once more. "Honestly, I don't know what to make of it… He keeps trying to talk to me; says we're some kind of kindred spirits, and that he wants to tap into my power, whatever that's supposed to mean. All I know is that he's almost certainly the one to set all this up, and that if you can get to him and either force him to undo the ward or kill him, that I should be able to break out without issue."

Alain let out a muffled curse under his breath. "Geez, Sable… ask something even harder of me, why don't you?"

"What can I say? I trust my best servants with my hardest battles." She flashed him a grin, showing off her fangs. "By the way, I'm going to have to feed after this."

"How bad is it?"

"I won't lose control any time soon, but I am getting very hungry…"

"Alright, alright…" Alain let out a tired sigh. "So now I have to break you out of jail and get you your dinner as well. And I have to do it by getting my hands on the guy in red. Just another day at the office, I suppose…"

"Wouldn't be one of our jobs if it was easy." Sable looked past Alain, surprise crossing her face when she saw Danielle standing there. "She made it, too?"

"She did," Alain said. "I know – I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Hey!" Danielle protested. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just surprised at how hardy you are, that's all. Most people wouldn't have survived a train crash like that."

"You survived it."

"I'm not most people," Alain pointed out. He looked back to Sable. They both paused, then turned towards Danielle.

"What?" Danielle asked.

"Nothing," Alain hurriedly added. He turned back to Sable. "Stay here, we'll be back in a bit."

Sable rolled her eyes. "Do I look like I'm going anywhere, Alain?"

"Good point." Alain looked over to Danielle, then motioned for her to follow him. "Come on. Let's check out what's going on around town."

XXX

Alain and Danielle left the church, leaving Sable behind. As they walked back to the outskirts of town, Danielle drew closer to Alain.

"So, what's the plan here?" she asked. "Because there's an entire town full of cultists, not to mention the one leading them, who's almost certainly a cut above the rest. Plus, you're still injured."

"I'm aware," Alain said without looking at her.

"So what do you plan to do, exactly?"

"Right now? Try and get a read on how many people we're going to have to kill, and maybe take a few of the stragglers out before they become a problem." Alain looked up to the sky, frowning when he saw the clouds begin to part and give way to the full moon above. "Shit… we're losing our cloud coverage."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that sneaking around just got a lot harder. You should stay back on the outskirts of town."

"What?! But-"

"Don't argue this with me," he advised her. "Sneaking around is going to be hard enough with my bad leg, keeping an eye on you as well is just going to make it even harder. It'll be best if you hunker down and wait for me to come get you."

Danielle fell silent for a moment. "...And if you don't come for me?"

Alain let out a heavy sigh. "...If morning comes and I haven't come to get you, assume the worst. Take one of the horses and start riding; hopefully you can find someone who can help before the desert heat gets to you."

Danielle stared at him. "That's it? That's your genius plan?"

"Do you have a better one?" Alain asked. She offered no response, and he shook his head. "Look, if you really want to help, then go search through the other wrecked train cars and try to find Az. I have no idea if he'll be in one of them or not, it'll be worth checking out regardless. Me, I'm going to search through town on my own; don't wait up."

With that, Alain turned and began to limp away, leaving Danielle alone in the moonlight.

XXX

With a flash of the blade, Alain slit another man's throat, covering his mouth as he choked on his own blood. It was over in seconds, the white-robed cultist going still and his struggles ceasing completely; Alain took the limp body and dragged it back into the shadows, then wiped his knife on the cultist's robe before continuing.

So far, things weren't looking good. He'd killed three more cultists without anyone being any wiser, but from what he could tell just from scouting around town, there were still around two-dozen left, not counting the man in red.

Speaking of that man, Alain hadn't seen any trace of him around town at all. It was slightly unnerving, he had to admit; logically, Alain knew he was probably just sleeping, but at the same time, experience had taught him to expect the worst, and in this case, the worst was that he was planning something sinister involving that book of his.

Alain finished the dead cultist with a stab to the brain to prevent him from reanimating, then continued on his way, limping through town. It was around one in the morning now, by his estimation; the entire town was now quiet as the grave, presumably because the cultists were asleep, save for a few that were still patrolling.

As Alain moved through town, he saw something up ahead – a light that suddenly came on in a building down the street. His interest now piqued, Alain steadily crept over to the building; it had only one story, and from what he could tell, it was the local reverend's house, though naturally, all the religious iconography had been perverted or desecrated in some way. The most striking thing, however, was the lone figure seated at a desk with his back to Alain, just a few meters away.

It was the man in red, illuminated by a nearby fireplace.

Alain stared at the man, his blood running cold when he noticed the book in his hands. Alain hesitated, then sheathed his knife and drew his revolver. The moment his gun cleared leather, the man in red stiffened, and Alain froze; he had drawn his weapon silently, so he wasn't sure how the cultist leader would have heard him.

And yet, somehow, he knew to turn towards Alain, a sinister-looking grin on his face.

"Well, well," he said. "A lost lamb."

Alain didn't waste any time; he cocked the hammer back on his revolver and pulled the trigger, but to his dismay, the cultist leader dove to the ground, the bullet doing little more than grazing him across the shoulder as he hit the deck.

A second after the gunshot broke through the night, a chorus of shouts went up around town, and Alain's blood ran cold. He holstered his revolver and went for his shotgun, then began to retreat as fast as his legs could carry him.

And all around him, he heard people scrambling for their weapons in the dead of night.