Lincoln Cole

Somewhere in there, Arthur lived. It took Haatim a second to pinpoint him, but he could feel his spirit a ways inside. He felt empty, vacuous, but not dead. Or, at least, not eliminated and destroyed.

Haatim stood over Abigail in the small room where he’d found her. It looked like an underground cavern lit by candlelight, though he could see no candles anywhere. The room remained empty except for himself, and Abigail lying on a large wooden table.

Dominick kept moving down alleys and side streets, weaving through buildings but making sure not to get too far from his friends. Slowly, he worked his way back toward Frieda and Haatim.

“The demon will find you in here,” the echo of Arthur said. He still stood in the doorway, but his expression had gradually shifted to worry, and he looked around. “Already, you can feel it clawing through your mind. It will find us.”

“You ready?” Dominick asked. Haatim couldn’t think of anything in his life that he felt less ready for than what they were about to do.

Abigail had no idea of her location. She found herself sitting on the edge of a bed in a dark bedroom but couldn’t remember ever coming into the room or sitting down. It seemed like she’d just appeared there all of a sudden.

Haatim heard a sound and glanced behind him. Abigail came flying out of the wrecked church. Only one wall still stood, which looked on the verge of collapsing too, as the structural integrity of the building broke down.

Haatim held the pistol in trembling hands, looking down at the body of his sister as she clutched the wound in her chest. If the bullet hadn’t hit her heart, it had come extremely close and done considerable damage. The expression on the demon’s face, though, he hadn’t expected.

Haatim ran as fast as he could away from the church and the gray demon chasing him, dodging overgrown sections and struggling to breathe.