Smoke billowed from the parsonage room as the quilt dropped away.
Laurie flew to Safine’s side, snatching the book and leaping into the circle of smoldering herbs, the incantation streaming from his lips, catching on the writhing smoke. Twisting words of Latin shook the chapel as the curse began to unravel.
The reverend’s mouth twisted in a snarl and he snatched a lamp from the pew, thick glass shattering at Laurie’s feet. Blue flames erupted with the oil and engulfed him.
Laurie did not waver. Voice strengthened, rising above the din outside as the heavens split open, sun-boiled rain lashing against the chapel. The fire inside roared, licking at the ceiling, at the rattling windows.
Safine cursed and threw her arm up to shield her from the flames, stumbling back and blindly reaching for the blankets heaped on the bed.
Decker’s mind went silent. His chest, hollow, familiar.
Laurie unraveled the curse, word by word, the final plague shifting and drawing back.
Good, preacher. Keep going.
Decker’s bones straightened with a softpop.
The curse was breaking.
Humanity fleeing.
Decker drew himself up, testing his leg. Horrible, but he’d manage. When he touched his neck, there was only healing skin. He was still weak, still almost-human, but if killing Elias Lane for good took the last of his strength, so be it.
Wind howled as Elias did when Laurie did not stop, even as the flames ignited his hem and stretched towards the book in his hands.
Louder, each incantation becoming a thundering declaration against the storm raging outside, Laurie did not waver.
Decker limped to the edge of the first pew. Leisurely.
Witnessing his crumbling plan in rapt horror, the reverend never stood a chance.
“Take your last communion, Elias.” Thick oil spilled across his tongue when Decker crushed the lamp-well to his lips, gripping the back of his skull. Teeth cracked against the glass.
A thick, gurgling cry left him and Decker knotted his hand in his hair, dragging him to the engulfed fire of the pulpit like he’d dragged Safine to the pyre. Like he was speaking in tongues, flames writhed from his mouth and flashed in his eyes until Decker saw his reflection.
The smell of charred flesh overpowered smoldering herbs, and the cries of the reverend rang out through the chapel as he clawedat his face; the desiccated husk of his body burned from the inside out, outside in. Fire ate through his eyes first, melting and dripping like bloody tears. Then his sallow cheeks, flames gnawing at paper. His cracked teeth crumbled through the hole in his jaw, scattering onto the floor.
Mouth stretched in a howl and Elias staggered through the chapel that was once his, cursing and threatening a reckoning that would never come. When he finally sagged to his knees, his lungs turned to ash, Decker leaned down.
“‘With what judgement ye judge’—you’re an educated man, you know the rest,” Decker said softly. With one, small nudge, Elias tipped into his grave and landed with a dull, finally-dead thump.
Flames flared and the peak of the chapel cracked. Rain strengthened, battering the roof until it worked a hole between the boards, hissing, taming the flames.
Laurie pressed on.
There was no trace of the uncertainty that followed him like a shadow when he’d arrived at Ender’s Ridge. Laurie spoke like a preacher to his flock.
Fire smoldered along Laurie’s waist and his voice shook, the book slipping from his hands.
Decker limped for him, dragging his still-healing leg behind him, and snatched a blanket from Safine. They beat at the flames, snuffing out the worst of it.
Heat seared his skin when Decker slipped his hands under Laurie’s, and he hissed through the pulsing ache.
The chapel shuddered, holding its breath, flames dying.
“Almost there, preacher,” Decker whispered.
Through gritted teeth, burnt hands trembling in Decker’s, his preacher forced out the last incantation.
