The hall comes to a T, and I pause, tipping my head to figure out what direction the music is coming from. The sound echoes throughout the building, making it hard to pinpoint.
I close my eyes, listening. Right when I think I determined where the music is coming from, it stops. The feeling of being watched hits me hard, making my skin crawl.
A chorus of voices breaks out, carrying the same tune as the organ, and it hits me. I know why it’s familiar. It’s a hymn commonly sung in church.
“Shit.” I run down the hall, and the music gets louder. Our killer thinks he’s ridding the world of sinners. If he’s playing prerecorded church services, Gemma might still be alive.
The hall stops at another set of double doors, but unlike the others, these are locked. I step back and look at the frame. Like the rest of this section of the building, it’s weak and crumbling. I’ll have better luck going for the hinges than for the lock.
Mustering all the strength I have, I kick the door, hearing the frame crack little by little each time. It weakens, hanging unevenly from the hinges. I step back and use my shoulder to hit the doors hard in the center. They cave in, and I tumble down, getting splinters in my hand on the way.
Ignoring the pain, I push up onto my feet, gun raised. I’m in a processing part of the warehouse, and the old machinery has been left untouched, collecting dust and cluttering this place. The windows have been covered, and I blink rapidly, trying to focus my vision.
A red light on a CD player glows from the back of the room, and next to it, tied up on one of the machines, is Gemma. She’s gagged but tries to scream when she sees me. Blood drips down her chest, and the start of a pentagram is smeared on the wall behind her.
Oh shit. I interrupted the killer.
Breath leaving my lungs in a rush, I hold out my gun and whirl around. The fucker could be anywhere, hiding behind a machine or lurking in the shadows. Fuck! I need to get Gemma. She’s losing a lot of blood and won’t last much longer.
I fight against the urge to blindly run to her, and force myself to take careful, calculated steps, looking ahead of where I’m going. I don’t see the murderer, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in here.
A preacher’s voice booms from the CD player, starting a sermon about cleansing the earth of the devil’s poison. What a fucking lunatic. I get to Gemma, and she starts thrashing against her restraints, tears rolling down her face.
I turn around again, taking one final look for the killer before lowering my gun. I keep it in my right hand and pull the gag from Gemma’s mouth.
“Ace,” she sobs.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, forgetting I’m pissed at her and trying to untie the rope around one of her wrists. I can’t get it one-handed, but I don’t want to set my gun down. I fumble with it for another few seconds, hands shaking with frustration.
I don’t have time to waste. I have to untie her. The more time I waste, the less likely we are to get out of here alive. Setting the gun down on the machine next to her, I’m able to undo the knot on her left hand.
“Ace!” she screams as I reach for her other hand. I don’t get a chance to find out what’s happening. Something hits me on the back of the head.
And then everything goes black.
25
My eyes flutter open, and bright light shines down, making me close them again. It gets brighter, so bright it hurts. My chest hurts when I inhale, and the smell of blood surrounds me, harsh and metallic, making me sick. I’m lying down, and the rotting rubber belt of a machine is under my back.
Something splashes on me, running down my face and cascading to the floor.
“I cleanse this world of your sins.” A deep male voice rattles just feet from me, and I slit my eyes open again only to get hit with more water in the face.
“I’m not a vampire,” I say, spitting out water. “Holy water isn’t going to work on me, dipshit.”
“Ace?” Gemma groans. Oh my god, she’s still alive! I turn my head, blinking from the bright lights, and see her on the floor. Her hands are tied behind her back, and her feet are bound together. Her clothes are stained with blood and her face is pale.
We need to get out of here.
The killer steps back, moving the spotlight out of my eyes. I pull against my restraints, realizing that they’re tied around my wrists in self-tightening knots. The more I pull, the tighter they get. My feet are tied too, and the ropes burn the skin on my ankles when I attempt to pull them free.
I called the station. Backup will be here soon. I turn my head to the other side and see my phone on the floor, smashed to pieces. We can be saved.
“You’re both sinners,” the killer says, stepping around me and going to Gemma.
“No! I’m not! I’m not!” Gemma tries to scramble away but can’t move. “Don’t hurt me! Please! Don’t hurt me!”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pull as hard as I can against the restraints. I can get past the pain, but it’s no use. I can’t pull myself free.
