The Blessed - By Tonya Hurley Page 0,62

but the only sound Sebastian could hear was the sound of his own voice, filled with a painful realization. He had put the girls in more danger than he could have ever imagined.

“Oh, my God. Frey could have stopped me. He let me go.”

“It’s getting really dark,” Agnes said, noting that things got strangely still for a moment. “Where is he?”

CeCe wondered the same. “Maybe I should—”

The crashing sound in the bell tower reverberated through the church below as beams weakened from the renovation and from the storm blew around like toothpicks. The organ began to play, random keys triggered by the shaking and falling ceiling plaster. Torrents of water were breaking through the roof, turning the balcony into an indoor waterfall.

“Tornado!” Lucy screamed, steadying herself as the entire church seemed to roll from back to front, side to side.

Cecilia stumbled to the vestibule and yelled up the stairwell to no avail. Debris and plaster dust from above tumbled down like vomit covering the railing, the steps, and her boots. She sucked in a mouthful of grit and began to choke on it. Plaster dust filled her sinuses and nasal cavity. Red-faced and runny-nosed, she yelled up as loudly as she could. “Sebastian!” She strained to listen for a reply but none came. She was about to race up after him when Lucy grabbed her from behind. “Let me go! He might be hurt.”

“You might get hurt,” Lucy chided, sensing something desperately wrong.

“I’m not going to let him die up there.”

“We need to stay together. Or we’ll die down here.” Lucy looked up and pointed. Huge pieces of plaster were cracking along the vestibule ceiling directly overhead.

“Run!” CeCe shouted, pulling Lucy along through the nave and nearly out of her peep toes.

All hell was breaking loose outside and in.

A whoosh of wind and the plywood from upper windows began to creak and shake loose. The entire church was transformed into a giant wind tunnel as the twister came ever closer. They felt the oxygen ripped from their lungs. It was breathtaking, literally.

Windowpanes in the clerestory, already cracked and fragile from construction jackhammers, dropped shards of glass over the sills and into the aisles, hitting the floor and detonating just inches behind their heels, turning the onetime house of worship into a real-time house of terror. Scaffolding swayed in the stiff draft and collapsed like small buildings during a demolition. CeCe and Lucy grabbed for their heads as they raced toward the altar, their calves imbedded with splinters and sharp, multicolored fragments of leaded glass, covered in grime and dripping blood.

The wind and rain blasted through the open window casements and chased them down the center aisle almost the entire length of the church. Cecilia motioned to Agnes up ahead, hugging the marble communion rails for dear life, and the girls dived for the relative safety of the pews before any more of the doomed edifice crashed down. Cecilia covered Agnes with her body, protecting her from the falling boards and glass, like a soldier taking a bullet for a comrade.

“I thought I’d be safe here!” Agnes screamed.

“You are,” Cecilia said. “I got you.”

“I feel like we’re under attack!” Lucy shouted back.

Cecilia made the decision to fall back. “We gotta get out of this place.”

“And go where? For a ride on the Cyclone out there? In the pitch-black?” Lucy challenged. “Are you nuts?”

Cecilia wiped at the warm liquid dripping down her legs and tasted it. It was blood. She eyed Agnes’s wraps. “The sacristy. Follow me.”

They bolted for the sacristy door, Cecilia dragging Agnes, and Lucy, expensive heels now in hand, falling in quickly behind.

Sisters-in-arms running for cover. Racing the storm and running for their lives.

Sloshing through puddled rain and over muddy marble floors. Their bare feet unable to gain any traction on the slippery tile beneath them.

Agnes slipped out of Cecilia’s moistened grasp and tripped over a few pieces of wood littering the aisle, landing on her hands and letting out a loud cry.

Lucy stopped and lifted Agnes to her feet in an adrenaline rush of strength, much as Sebastian had lifted her. She was careful not to pull at her wrists.

“C’mon,” Lucy shouted, helping Agnes along.

Cecilia reached for the door and flung it open. Agnes ducked in and then Lucy slammed it closed behind them, shutting the worst of the storm out, at least for that moment. The quiet was a relief.

“Can you move any slower?” Lucy exhaled in frustration at Agnes. “We should have left you back there.”

“I’m