We face the ramp and the door at the end, our rigid backs to the corridor we entered from. Even if the demons get into the catacombs from the other end of the floor, it’ll take them time to find their way back here. But the demons outside, all it will take is for one of them to become curious about what’s on the other side of these windows.
My hands tremble at my waist. They press into my black skirts until my knuckle brushes against something hard and cold there. My brother’s dagger. It didn’t save me the last time I faced a demon, but I remember the comfort it gave me, the hope.
Frantically, I unlatch the leather and pull the dagger from my belt. It quakes in my shaking hand as I hold it out, my arm stiff, my heart thrumming in my chest. If the demons get in, I won’t be able to protect everyone on my own; I likely won’t even be able to protect myself. But as expected, having the blade in my hand, my fear is stanched, if only a little. I feel like my brother is standing beside me, whispering in my ear like he did when we were children and the clouds were warring with the sky throughout the night. Tor would tell me that thunder was nothing more than noise, and noise couldn’t do anything but bother our ears.
I was only four then, too young to yet realize that lightning accompanied the thunder, and lightning, very much so, could harm us. But I pretend the truth still holds, even now. The growling and shrieking outside, it is nothing more than noise. Just like the thunder, soon, it too will pass, and the skies will be golden and inviting again.
My shoulders relax. My hand steadies as my arm lowers to a more comfortable and natural position.
And just when I’ve convinced myself that there is nothing to fear, the stained-glass shatters, and a black, terrifying beast pops its head inside and roars.
The recruits scream. I scream. We jump back, stumbling over the bodies on the floor in a mad race to put as much distance between us and the demon as possible. But our backs slam against the stone wall, and our yelps serve only to alert the other demons that there is more food to be had down here.
The other window shatters. The door at the end of the ramp, secured by a thick wooden board, begins shaking furiously.
The demon in the window snarls again, its shoulder stuck but its eyes set. Drool glistens on its fangs as it claws its way through the small window, growling and howling every time another of its rotund limbs get stuck. Another demon appears in the other window, desperate to get inside as well.
I raise my arm again, my dagger the only thing standing between me and the demons.
A crunch catches my attention from the dark corridor, and fiery fear surges through me again. They’re already inside. We are surrounded. We are doomed.
But it’s only Dimitri who steps out from the shadows, a long femur bone in hand, splintered at the tip.
“Arm yourselves!” he shouts, pointing to the shelves of bones behind him.
“They’re just bones,” Fox counters. “They can’t kill them.”
A glare settles in his eyes. He doesn’t take it off her as he reaches into the wall and rips out another bone, this one smaller and curved. He charges toward Fox, slamming the bone against her chest.
“They don’t have to die, and neither do we. But we do have to fight.”
With renewed hope and fearlessness, the other recruits charge into the corridor. They tear at the bones of the dead like the famished flock to a feast. Bones crack and snap. Dust fills the airs as the tombs are disturbed for the first time in years. One by one, our fellow recruits return with sharpened bones in hand, just in time for the first demon to crash to the floor.
With a chilling roar, Dimitri pumps his bone spear into the air and charges. A few other recruits join him in the attack, Güthric among them. He flanks Dimitri, a femur in one hand a skull in the other, and they collide with the creature just as it leaps to all fours.
The three of them slam into the wall below the broken window, more demons clawing through the opening above while Dimitri crams his bone into the demon’s gut and Güthric slams the skull against its face. Dark blood, as black as the raven that’s been stalking me, sprays with each impact. The skull shatters in Güthric’s hand and he uses his fist instead, and Dimitri pulls his weapon out to impale the demon again in the neck.
The beast thrashes and wails, but all they seem to be doing is making it angrier, and the others too. For every wail that gurgles out of this demon’s mouth, the demon who crashes down from the other window, and the one still wedged inside the other, become more vicious, more insidious as they claw their way through the openings.
Another demon plummets from the window and lands on Güthric. The two of them roll and slash, a tangle of dark and white. The demon pins Güthric down by his pummeling arms and shrieks a wet snarl in his face.
With two makeshift daggers at her sides, Silver sprints for him. She slashes with the wild blindness of a tornado. More recruits join her, targeting the next demon to crawl its way through the other window. My colleagues are whirlwinds of jabs and kicks and strikes and stabs. Everything we’ve ever reviewed and practiced seems fresh in the forefronts of their minds as they take down the ravenous demons.
I, however, cannot move.
I am the only one with a real weapon that could kill the demons, and yet I am frozen by my terror. One swipe of their claws, one snag of their teeth, and any of us would become the next bodies lying here in the morgue.
I want to run.
I want to scream.
But I can’t do either. It’s like I’m standing in my cottage again, the dead bodies of my parents lying on the floor behind me, mauled and eviscerated, and I can’t leave them, even if it means saving myself.
Something shatters as its thrown across the room. I turn to see the handful of bones scatter, ricocheting off the burly body of a new demon that’s entered. His eyes are fixed on something in the corner of the room. I turn and see the Spirit Keep, pressed tightly into the corner, reaching for another handful of bones that are piled on that side of the room.
Just as she heaves another handful at the creature, the doors burst open. Darkness funnels in, swallowing every last remnant of hope we had.
Demons pour inside. They tackle the recruits on top of their fellow brethren. They sink their teeth into necks and lungs and guts.
I don’t know why I can hear one roar over the others, but my head snaps around just as a demon lunges for the Spirit Keep. The next handful of bones she chucks at it smack the creature in the face, disorienting it only long enough for it to blink and jerk its head away, but in two bounding strides, it’s upon her.
The Spirit Keep glares up at the mammoth creature. It stands on its hind legs, hunching because the ceiling is too low for it. It watches her like it enjoys seeing her fear, like that’s just part of its hunt.
I’m racing toward them before I’m aware of it. My cry is muffled by the sounds of the fighting and dying around me, and the demon doesn’t seem to know I’m coming for it. Unhinging its jaw, it leans back. I lunge, closing the gap between us with my dagger outstretched.
The blade sinks into the creature’s bicep and it bellows. The black beast jerks its arm away, my dagger still inside it.
Faster than I can register, its thick, mangled hand is around my neck. It roars in my face, fangs just inches away from my skin. Its hot breath is fetid, but I can’t smell it for long. It squeezes me, cutting off all of my air supply with one tight clutch.