I nod once. She’ll stick to Cameron anyway.
“I can help.” Dakota rises unsteadily to her feet. “I’ve already?—”
“No.” The word comes out hard. “You stay here with your sister.”
She drops back to the ground.
I grab the letter opener I took from the desk drawer. Small, but sharp enough to pierce an eye socket. “Cameron, Sienna, grab whatever you can use.”
Cameron picks up a fire poker leaning against the fireplace. Sienna decides on a crystal paperweight, tucks it into her jacket pocket, and grabs a letter opener like mine.
“Be careful,” Amelia says softly.
I meet her eyes and nod once. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but us.”
We check our makeshift weapons one last time. Cameron looks at Sienna, then back at me, his usually soft features hardening.
“Ready?” I ask.
They nod.
Time to face whatever’s waiting out there.
I remove the chair and, with Cameron’s help, ease the bookcase away from the door, before listening for movement outside.
Nothing.
I turn the lock slowly, metal scraping against metal like a shout in the silence, and open the door with a soft creak.
Still nothing.
I take point, creeping forward into the corridor with the letter opener gripped tight. My eyes adjust to the sunlight that slashes through the stained glass, painting kaleidoscopepatterns across the carpet where dark stains glisten wetly between the rainbow colors.
I breathe through my nose, focusing on sounds. A faint scratching from the chapel. Something dragging. One of them, at least.
“Stay close,” I murmur. “Single file. I lead, Cameron in the middle, Sienna watches our backs.”
“What is single file?” Sienna asks in a whisper.
Cameron leans in close to her ear. “It means walking in a line, one behind the other. Like when kids?—”
“Quiet,” I hiss, straining to hear over their voices.
The scratching sound stops. Then starts again, closer now. Whatever’s making it, heard us.
I flatten myself against the wall, gesturing for Cameron and Sienna to do the same.
The letter opener feels pathetically small in my grip. In the military, I never went anywhere without a proper weapon. Now I’m hunting monsters with office supplies.
“If something happens to me, get back to the office,” I whisper. “Don’t try to be heroes.”
“Sure you don’t want this?” Cameron holds out the poker.
“Keep it.”
We edge down the corridor toward the sanctuary, slow and careful. The scratching grows louder. I hold up one finger, then mimic a shuffling walk.
I peek around the edge.
