app on my phone—there was an app for everything—chasing away the shadows. We were in a kitchen. It was small, but clean. We were alone. Ahead, a hallway branched in three different directions.
“This way.” Cole took the lead, his steps shuffling, his gait slower by the minute.
I made sure the light illuminated the way as we bypassed each of the doorways and entered the sanctuary. I muttered a prayer for strength and peace. Was Nana here? Were my friends? Or—
Borrowing trouble.
Right. We sailed through the sound room, a storage overflowing with choir robes, and finally entered the pastor’s office. Cole, who was wobbling on his feet, flipped on the overhead lamp, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. I blinked in an effort to adjust to the added brightness and saw a bookcase, desk, computer, file cabinet and a few chairs.
“I’m missing something,” I said. “Where’s the shelter?”
“Here.” He squatted and scooped out the things inside the bottom cubby of the bookcase. Reaching back, he lifted a hidden hatch, revealing a tunnel just big enough for an adult male to crawl through.
“Down,” he said. “Hurry.” His lids closed...then snapped back open.
How close was he to passing out?
I practically flew through the hole—found a ladder. Darkness enveloped me as I descended. Like a real-life Alice in Wonderland, I thought with a nervous laugh. My palms began to sweat all over again, and I had to squash images of Cole losing his grip and tumbling to his death.
Trickles of light filtered in. At the bottom, I hopped to the cement floor. With my help, Cole was able to do the same with minimal pain.
“Anima will pay for this,” I vowed.
“Yes, and they’ll...pay...in blood.”
A lot of blood.
We were in a small, dim box of a room, but voices rose beyond the far right wall. Voices I recognized.
I bounded forward. “Nana!”
“Ali?” she responded.
Light brightened around the corner, and I quickened my pace, soon entering a spacious room loaded with gurneys, medical equipment and weapons. Nana, dressed in her favorite nightgown, headed straight for me. I gathered her in my arms and hugged her tight, doing my best not to snot-cry all over her.
“Thank God! You’re alive.” She was the only family I had left, and I would rather die than lose her. “You’re really alive.”
“I’m telling you, I had to be surrounded by angels tonight. There’s no other explanation for my survival.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you.”
“I was glad you weren’t. I would have hated knowing you witnessed the violence we did. You’ve seen too much already.” A shudder rocked her small frame, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit I had witnessed more than my fair share tonight, too. “I took comfort knowing you were out there and safe.”
Behind me, I caught the soft sound of shambling footsteps and pulled from Nana’s embrace. “I’ll be right back.” Cole had just passed the threshold, and I raced to his side.
His features were pinched, his skin pallid. He managed a small smile when I reached him. At this point, I think he was running on pure adrenaline. “Told you...she’d be...all right.”
“Gloat all you want.” Just live! I shoved the backpack from his shoulder, the heavy weight thumping against the floor. “Let’s get you to a gurney.”
“Ali, you have to know...not afraid...to die.”
Jolt! And not the good kind. “I know that.” A person afraid of dying could never really live, and Cole Holland definitely lived. “Why are you telling me this now? You made a promise to me and I expect you to keep it.”
He leaned against me in an effort to remain on his feet.
I wound my arm snug around his waist. “Mr. Ankh,” I called. “Help.”
The male stalked around a curtain. He was shirtless and stacked with as much muscle as the slayers; it looked like he’d been in the process of sewing his own wound back together, because a needle and thread hung from a thick, seeping gash on his clavicle. His usually dark skin was almost as pallid as Cole’s and was now marked with cuts and bruises.
He spotted us, quickened his pace. Together, we hefted Cole onto a gurney. Which was a big-time struggle. He passed out halfway up, becoming a dead weight. Mr. Ankh shouldered me out of the way to clean him up and patch the wound on his shoulder.
Mr. Ankh is a surgeon, I reminded myself. He knows what to do.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” I asked.
A tic below Mr. Ankh’s eye. He remained silent.
I pressed my lips together.
Compartmentalize.
Yes, but how much more could the compartments take?
Nana came up beside me, squeezed my hand.
“How did you get here?” I asked.
“One of the tunnels in Mr. Ankh’s house leads straight here.”
“Where are the others?” I scanned the room and answered my own question. Kat reclined on one of the gurneys, her dark hair tangled around her pale face, her expression...odd. Blank.
I frowned. Something—more than the obvious—was wrong with her.
Reeve sprawled on the gurney beside her, her hair just as tangled. Her eyes were closed, and she was so still she could only be...
No! “Tell me she’s okay.”
“She is. She had to be sedated.” Nana released a shuddering breath. “So did Kat.”
Okay. Okay. I could guess the reason. Reeve had probably tried to leave to find Bronx, and Kat had probably screamed bloody murder, desperate to get to Frosty.
“I have something to tell you, dear,” Nana said, sorrow practically dripping from her.
I stiffened. “No.” I could guess what was coming.
“You need to know. Two of the...” She sniffled. “Two slayers were...are...”
“No,” I repeated.
“Lucas and Trina. Beautiful Trina. They...”
I shook my head violently. Don’t want to hear this.
“Lucas called. Trina was with him. They were being chased. Ankh told them where to go. Then he and I... We left the girls here, sleeping in a safe room, and went to get the others.”
I focused on that—that Mr. Ankh had taken my grandmother from
