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He pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts my arms free. My wrists burn as the rope falls away. Blood returns to my hands in an aching rush that feels like my fingers are waking from certain death.

Evelyn is already moving.

I see her out of the corner of my eye, a naked, pale shape gliding forward, dagger raised. Edwin turns just as it sinks into the back of his right shoulder, and she throws her weight against him, driving it deeper.

He grunts through clenched teeth. My stomach drops at the sight of that blade buried in him.

But he grabs her like she’s nothing but a parasite that’s latched onto his body, and flings her away with a brutal motion. She hits the floor at the steps of the pulpit, landing hard and crying out in pain. I can’t help feeling sorry for her.

Then her eyes find mine, and I see the hunger. The panic. The desperation to drink every drop of my blood as if it will make her immortal.

The fire is inside now. Flames climb along the walls, greedily cutting through everything in their path. Heat has made sweat pour down my naked body. Smoke turns the room into a gray blur.

Hell has found its demons.

“Evelyn!” Frank calls out.

She won’t answer him. Won’t even acknowledge him. She’s possessed beyond anything he can do to snap her out of it.

Frank runs past his wife without attempting to grab her, disappearing down the aisle towards the basement door without looking back.

There’s no one left for her.

I fall to my knees, gasping for air that’s hard to come by. My throat burns. My body is too lethargic to move.

Edwin staggers, one hand reaching for the dagger lodged in his shoulder. He wrenches it free with a grimace, letting it drop to the floor.

And it lands right in front of me.

My hand closes around the handle before I know what to do with it. Its weight offers a cold comfort.

Evelyn pushes herself up to stand below the altar. Far less composed now. The mask of sweetness has broken.

Edwin reaches out. “Zaiya, come to me.”

But Evelyn moves faster.

She lunges, grabbing my arm, yanking me down before I can reach him. Her other hand clamps around my shoulder, pulling me into an embrace. It’s disorienting because my body remembers her hugs, even longs for them.

Then her mouth finds my skin.

She presses herself against me with a desperate need, her lips and tongue searching for blood. Terror floods through me again. She’s treating me like I’m a cure.

Flames flare near the aisle. Heat rises rapidly, sharp as teeth.

“Zaiya!” Edwin’s voice cuts through the roar and crackle.

I can’t see him clearly. Smoke is between us, forming a wall while firelight stutters in orange flashes.

Evelyn clings harder. “You don’t understand,” she gasps against my skin. “I did everything for you.”

The absurdity is too much.

Our sweat makes my grip slick enough for her to wrench the knife from me. She presses the blade into my chest, drawing more blood. I hold her back, but my strength is waning. My head swims. Smoke burns my nose as I try to get enough of a breath to make a difference. The knife slips from her hand and clanks against the floorboards.

I have to fight. I push at her shoulders, but she holds on. Made powerful by madness.

She’s on top of me, sucking at the wound on my chest like a feral creature. My fingers reach out blindly across the floor, searching.