Shattered Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 3) by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane & Shei Darksbane

Author:Annathesa Nikola Darksbane & Shei Darksbane [Darksbane, Annathesa Nikola]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Dark Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Darksbane Books
Published: 2017-06-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

What’s beneath rock bottom

“And then there were two.” I slowly raised my head from where I’d buried it between my knees in despair. First my Lori, now Tamara too. I felt as close to nauseous as a dead girl could get.

“Yeah,” Charles grunted, his eyes straight ahead on the highway. I didn’t even know where we were anymore.

I straightened, the bones in my back cracking as they popped back into place, my body still feeling stiff and battered from my all-out brawl with Petra-Meladoquiel. I’d taken the last half hour or so to put my head down and wallow in self-pity, anguish, and despair. But giving up—giving in—wasn’t an option I had on the table.

“So how do we stop her?” I rasped.

Giving up wasn’t my style, anyway. I was way too stubborn for that.

“We don’t,” Charles replied.

I frowned, trying to keep a growl of frustration out of my voice. “There’s got to be some way to fight her.”

“We can’t,” the Magisterium wizard reiterated, his Silverado slowing and pulling off the road.

Now I did growl with irritation. “I—”

“Not by ourselves.” He cut me off, pointing out the window.

A chill ran through my dead bones, embedding itself in my core as I followed the line of his finger outwards and upwards.

High Hill Church towered over me, one of the few religious structures in the city that would have put my church to shame, even in its prime. Vaulted, cathedral-style archways, stained glass windows, and pointy steeples reached skyward, as if they might scrape the vault of heaven itself and demand god’s attention. Meanwhile, faux-Gothic gargoyles and cherubs cavorted along the austere lines of the gutters and corners. Massive stone doors, eerily similar to those at my church, were thrown permanently wide like welcoming arms.

Well, I supposed most people found it welcoming. I’d never seen the point of it while alive.

And after death, it was downright terrifying.

The church at the Summit was one of the few locales in the city that seethed with raw faith. Tons of severe, unforgiving stone, carved with crosses and symbols that made my innards twist anxiously.

So those doors thrown open wide? They were to offer the faithful protection from things like me.

I shuddered. “You’re going in there?”

“Yup.” Charles popped his door open. “We need weapons. I know who to talk to.”

I shuddered again for good measure. “I’ll just stay here, then.”

He snorted, but there was little humor in it, even by Charles’ standards. “Probably a good idea.”

After he left, there wasn’t much to do but wait and stew in my sour thoughts.

I tried not to stare at the imposing, forbidding structure, but with nothing else to distract me, I couldn’t help it. High Hill Church sprawled across most of the hilltop that it drew its name from, blanketing the area in hallowed ground that contained graveyards, gardens, and monuments alike. While urban development had encroached as close as it could, pressing up against the grounds with businesses and apartment buildings, the church’s territory had refused to yield an inch.

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