It was all easier said than done. While I wanted to run out and spill blood on every inch of carpet, Victor insisted I'd do it all his way—running out with guns blaring was a bad idea. After a minute of arguing, I was inclined to agree.

Nathan fidgeted with his thoughts for a while as he paced back and forth. I watched him before I took my turn to look out the window. The stars were bright and in my favor.

"So," Nathan slapped his hands together, "we're supposed to pretend to like this shit, and then assassinate the cult leader?"

"Ah, he's a bright one, isn't he?" Victor laughed as he leaned against the door.

A mirror hung beside him. I rubbed dried bits of blood from my face and combed my fingers through my hair. It fell long around my ears, just above my shoulders—I never did get a chance to cut it. "Medical student," I said as I stared at my reflection. Victor's face appeared near mine as he looked at his own.

"Are you even sure it will work?"

"It has to," Victor said as he pursed his lips, "if anyone can kill with no remorse, it's John. We're mid-transition. This new Church is nearly ready, and the priests will soon be given their assignments. Right now, Abby is left unguarded and too busy to know what goes on around here. It's now or never."

New Church. Priests. Assignments.

I sniffed at the stale air before turning to look into the eyes of my father. It was strange to admit, but I saw myself in him. A week ago, I didn't know he existed. Now, I clapped his hand in mine and nodded, agreeing to his plan.

"Alright, old man," I said as Nathan stood beside us, "it's now or never."

*

When one thinks of a manor, one would imagine elaborate walls, lined with paintings and décor. That wasn't what I saw when Victor opened the door and led me out into the hall. We weren't within the manors' basements but on an upper level. Outside one of the windows, open and without curtains, I saw the town of Rockfalls, asleep and unaware of the evil beyond the lake.

"This way," Victor started ahead of us, leading us through the hall and down two flights of stairs. While the halls above were dark and unlit, the ones that dipped into the basements were very bright. Within every few feet were candles, both on tall sticks and those that hung from the tall ceiling like lanterns. The floors were swept, mopped, and almost porcelain. The walls here had pictures—biblical portraits of Jesus, the apostles, and many angels. Among them were paintings of Lucifer himself, before his casted form. I cringed at the sight.

"Explain to me again, what is it I'm supposed to believe in?" Nathan asked in a quivering voice.

I snorted. The Devil.

"She—" Victor cleared his throat, "—we believe our immortality is a gift, for we're without sin and our souls are clean. Now, as for the rest of mankind, they're evil, full of violence and hate. Our purpose on this Earth is to expose that truth, so he may grant us passage into Heaven."

He paused for a second, passing his hand over a candle's flame. "We're to believe in Lucifer's right to deny love to man and follow in his footsteps. Through our actions and sermons, God will see his banishment as unjust. He will resurrect Lucifer's soul."

I rolled my eyes, "A twisted bible."

"Yes," Victor took in a deep breath as we turned down another hall, decorated the same, "none of it is true."

"You say 'man' like you all aren't men. If he denied man love, doesn't it mean he hates you, too?" Nathan asked as curiosity took over.

Victor stopped, looking back at us. "That's it—we're not men, we're angels. Angels never die."

"You do die."

"They don't know that, but I do," Victor touched a picture of the devil himself, "Abby does, too. Clearly, she's tried to kill before."

His eyes landed on me.

"Alright, cool, I get that, but," Nathan rubbed his face, "people really follow her?"

"Oh, yes, all the time."

Nathan stepped closer. "And, they die, too?"

"Does he always ask so many questions?" he muttered, motioning us to keep moving.

"I'm just trying to get a clear picture here."

"If that's the case then, yes," Victor looked back at us once more before sliding his hand over another candle, "I've buried plenty of bodies."

I looked over at a portrait of Jesus Christ. Above him, the clouds parted and allowed a bright light to frame him holy. My fingers slid over his thorn crown. "Those unfit for heaven die here on Earth."

Victor snorted. "You remember."

Parts of the halls branched out into different rooms. There were a small variety of people—some had glowing eyes, while others didn't. Without leaving the safety of those rooms, they watched us. Some were brave enough to fully show their faces, fingers curling around door frames as we continued down the halls. I couldn't keep up with it all—the basements were indeed connected, and appeared maze-like, like a hive for bees.

Abby was the Queen, wasn't she?

"Enough," Victor hissed as he waved his hands at the onlookers. The few fully exposed bit their tongues as they ducked back into the interconnected areas. Murmurs drifted in the air like small boats on water.

"Down this hall is where all four manors connect. A room built at Abby's request. She's in there now and is most of the time."

I looked ahead. "That big empty space?"

"It won't be for long. It'll be used for prayer. Blessings."

Behind me, Nathan whispered "Blessings,"  so quietly, it was more of a breath than a sound.

"And?" I waited for further direction. When he looked at me, I nodded my head. "Is Abby in there?"

"She should be," he sounded unsure, but I went with it.

"Perfect." I placed my hand on his shoulder, ready to push past him, but he stopped me. His glowing eyes observed me for a moment before he let me go with a gentle pat on the back.

A silent approval.

I moved around him, taking fast steps down the rest of the hall. My nerves settled in—how would I know it was her if I couldn't picture her face? What would I say? Would I open my arms and ask for a hug? No, too simple.

Would I kiss both of her cheeks and remind her that I was family? Sorry—far too easy, just like the first. Perhaps, I could outright ask her how she'd tried to kill me, and did it make her sad that she didn't succeed?

By the time I'd reached the end of the hall, thousands of thoughts coursed through my head. I found myself standing under one of four large openings that connected with the spacious room. It was large, auditorium size, with countless pews, like those placed within real churches. They were arranged in a circle, surrounding a center that was open with a podium. Behind the podium stood a cross with no statue of Jesus hanging upon it. However, in front of it, stood a statue of a man with long hair. A pentagram was engraved on his chest, the lines filled with gems that appeared like diamonds.

I held my breath as I scanned the room. There were more than fifty candles—no, hundreds—of all shapes and sizes, lighting the space. Men wiped the chairs, while women mopped the floors. The space smelled of lemon zest and perfumes.

Nathan tapped my shoulder when I didn't move. I looked at him, and he pointed ahead. "She's staring at you," he whispered.

I followed his finger to the figure of a woman who stood near the podium—I could barely see her. She stood under the statue, away from the candlelight. Squinting, I tried to make out her features.

Victor tapped my shoulder next, and I turned to look at him. His gaze was full of disbelief. "Have you truly lost your memory? All of it?"

My lip twisted up, annoyed. "I don't remember what she looks like. If she's here amongst this filthy crowd, then please, do the honors and point her out."

He hit me, right on the freshly healed gun wound. I hissed and nearly yelled, but he pointed at the same woman Nathan observed. "Abby isn't here," Victor whispered as he pushed me out of the walkway and into the light, "she is."

Charlotte?