But the creatures didn't move.
Neither did Tao or I.
Seconds ticked by. Sweat began trickling down my back and my hands grew clammy inside their wet bandages. The creatures growled low in their throats, the sound rumbling through the building—a sound of such power that dust and bits of masonry began to fall from the ceiling.
"Fuck," Tao said. "They could bring the whole place down on top of us."
"But this is still sacred ground. We might be buried, but at least we won't be torn apart."
"I'm not convinced it's a better option," he said, glancing nervously upward.
One of the hounds stepped forward. His paw hit the threshold and something flared—something bright and wholesome and somehow clean. The creature leapt back as if stung and their low growling intensified, until the air hummed with fury and the whole building shook under its assault.
"Well, at least that proves the theory that churches are sacred ground," Tao commented. "Now we've just got to hope it doesn't fall down around our ears."
As he said it, a huge chunk of plaster crashed onto the bench behind us. Dust flew upward in a cloud, briefly smothering the rainbow streams of sunshine and creating an even darker atmosphere.
And yet there was a strength here, too.
I could feel it, feel the heat of it …
Joy leapt through me. It wasn't the church, it was Azriel.
He appeared behind the hellhounds, Valdis held high above his head, the blade screaming in fury and dripping flame.
The hellhounds twisted around, then, as one, leapt. Azriel stepped to one side, and Valdis swept down, her scream almost ear shattering. She cut one creature in half, but it simply reformed and leapt again. Again the blade flew, separating flesh but not killing. The hounds were fast, not giving him the chance of a kill.
He needed help.