Silas respectfully declined.
Azrames finished his first glass and topped mine off. When no one else accepted his bid for the bottle, he drained it into his glass.
“Marmar has left out the best part,” he said, raising his glass.
“Oh, yes,” I sighed, looking at my friends. Fire and incense emanated from Azrames, as they always did. The scent of his powerful confidence battled the frankincense and insecurity of the angel who’d leapt from Heaven with no kingdom, no people, and nowhere to fall. Somewhere in the midst of it was Nia’s peppermint candle, the clean scent of Kirby’s soap, and the existential sigh of life-changing knowledge resting on my shoulders as I looked at my friends. I slouched with anticlimactic dissatisfaction as I said, “I forgot to tell you: I’m the antichrist.”
It was as if my words were a spell.
The sunny daylight muted as clouds rolled in. The first gust of wind was ominous. The second was downright terrifying. Darkness pressed against the window as if the sudden nightfall were trying to get in. The shadows in the room stretched unnaturally long, twisting and winding further than the light allowed. The candles flickered, not like they might with a draft, but as though the fire was breathing.
Beside me, Kirby let out a nervous laugh. “Okay…what the hell is that?”
Nia’s hands were clenched around the couch cushion so hard, her knuckles went white. Azrames was motionless, wineglass frozen halfway to his lips, eyes fixed on the sky outside.
Silas had stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. His shoulders tensed, his fingers flexed like they wanted a weapon.
My ears rang. The air turned to ice in my lungs. My breathing hitched.
“Azrames?” My voice squeaked.
He didn’t answer. He was staring at Silas.
The window howled. No—screamed. The windows rattled, floorboards groaned, and something outside—something massive—was moving.
The wineglass shattered in Azrames’s hand. Red wine drenched him like blood.
Kirby yelped at the shards of glass, shouting, “Okay, what thefuckis happening?”
Silas moved at last. He stood slowly, deliberately, and headed for the window. The sound of his exhale was lost beneath the wind as he said, “They’re here.”
I didn’t have time to ask who. I knew who.
The front door bowed inward. The walls shook. And then—
The lights went out.
