Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I shook my head, but they didn’t give a fuck.
“You’re full of evil,” a voice beside me accused. “Of wickedness.”
I was forced onto my knees and could no longer distinguish who was talking. All the voices bled together and sounded the same.
“When you’re empty inside, what do you think fills that void?”
With so many strangers touching me, it was impossible not to struggle, but when I did, it only made their hands harsher, their grips tighter. Everything was moving too fast, building toward something unwanted, filling me with dread.
“We can save you,” someone said.
I swallowed a breath to stop myself from telling them to fuck off.
On either side of me, a robed figure dropped to their knees and clasped their hands in prayer, bowing their heads like monks settling in for a long session of dutiful prayer. There were still hands on my shoulders, holding me in place, and someone shoved my head forward, forcing me to match their respectful posture in front of the altar.
My chest rose and fell with my rapid uneven breath, and I was painfully tense during the silence. Chelsea’s words came back to me. This wasn’t real; the people around me pretending to worship were just actors.
But when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, I caught the guy next to me moving his lips in silent prayer. The added detail made my apprehension skyrocket.
Just when I considered breaking a rule and demanding to be released, wind came from behind us and blasted through the chapel. It swirled amongst the pews and blew out the candles in a rolling wave. When the last set went out, it plunged the room into darkness and sent my heart careening to the floor.
The hands holding me in place evaporated.
All around me I heard the monks panicking and scrambling. Someone tripped over my feet, while others demanded to know what was happening. I reached out in the darkness, trying to stop anyone else from running me over in their disorientation.
As quickly as the artificial wind had swept through the chapel, it stopped.
What the fuck? I froze in place as the room was suddenly flooded in a sickly bloodred light.
Everything was different. Wrong.
The chapel had transformed into something much more sinister.
The crucifix on the wall was now upside down. The altar in front of me? It had been a simple wooden table draped with a grimy sheet, but now it was made of perfect stacks of skulls and femurs. The pattern was beautifully grotesque.
The monks in their ratty white shrouds were gone, transformed into the faceless, black-robed figures from the courtyard earlier. I recoiled, scrambling away on my hands and knees until my back pressed to the altar.
The faceless figures were even more horrifying bathed in red light. I froze as they closed in, forming a half circle, trapping me between them and the stacks of bones that served as an altar. My gaze darted from one figure to the other, so it didn’t register that fog was seeping in around the edges of their cloaks until it was thick, blanketing the ground.
A low, guttural growl came from around the corner.
Goose bumps showered across my arms, and I clenched my teeth. I didn’t want to know what the fuck had made that sound, but I was sure there was no way I was getting out of here without that happening.
The figure closest to the altar stepped aside, making way for some . . . thing to scurry toward me.
My brain emptied of thought, and I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
The creature had glistening black skin and moved unnaturally on all fours, clawing and bounding across the dirty floor. It moved surprisingly fast for how big it was on its four gangly legs.
I was so terrified of the way it moved, it wasn’t until the thing was right in front of me before my brain kicked back on. The creature wasn’t some monster from the depths of hell—it was just a slender woman in a latex bodysuit who had masterful control of her body. It reminded me of the stairs scene from The Exorcist come to life, only this was far more intense.
Every muscle in me solidified as she crawled over my lap, parted her black lipstick-lined lips, and opened her mouth. Black sludge ran down her chin, dripping onto my jeans, making me flinch.
“Come,” she gurgled, grabbing my arm and flashing a sludge-filled smile, the black oil clinging to her teeth.
There was a riot in my head, and my body refused to work. I didn’t want to follow the contortionist or the faceless figures. I wanted the scene over and to be back in the elevator with Chelsea.
But I had to finish the goddamn experience, and the only way to see her again was if I kept going.