Grim Rites

C
opyright
© 2016 by Bilinda Sheehan

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

F
or Adam
who loves me enough to help me battle the self-doubt that tries to claim a piece of my soul

T
he Shadow Sorceress Series

A Grave Magic

Blood Craft

Grim Rites

Wild Hunt - Coming Soon

B
ond of Blood
and Shadow Series

Violet Line - Book One

Violet Code - Coming 2016

T
o learn more
about this series and upcoming books from Bilinda, visit her website, join her mailing list, and email her.

T
he silence
in the church drew Rebecca back week after week, but if she was truly honest, it was the feeling of peace that kept her sitting there long after early morning mass was complete. The only other person left in the church was the young woman who’d joined only a few weeks previously, and no matter how many times she saw her attending mass and hiding out down the back of the church, Rebecca hadn’t been able to bring herself to so much as say hello. She had too much on her own plate to deal with.

Life was overwhelming; simply finding the will to survive from one day to the next was suffocating and the thoughts about ending it all were back.

Usually they were easy to bury, but not this time. Living was too much like wading through quick sand. No matter how many times she found a foothold, it was whipped out from beneath her.

Closing her eyes, Rebecca pressed her hand to her flat stomach. The leaflets and support groups all said it got easier, that time was the only thing to bring some level of clarity, the ability to cope, but really, all she’d found was more pain.

“Rebecca, child, what’s the matter?” His voice was kind and Rebecca smiled despite the war raging within herself.

Opening her eyes, she stared up into the gentle face of Father Matthew, concern etched into every line in his face.

“I haven’t seen you look so lost since….” He trailed off and took her hand. The feel of his warm fingers around her own brought the most comfort Rebecca had felt in a long time.

“I didn’t know where else to go. The thoughts, they’re back…” she whispered. Fear gnawed at her; if she spoke too loudly, it would make the demons haunting her all the more real.

“Well, I’m glad you came. You know you’re safe here. No matter what your thoughts are, no matter what you might do, there is no judgement.”

Shaking her head, Rebecca chewed the inside of her cheek. He was wrong, but he meant well and she couldn’t blame him for that. Since his arrival at the church six months previously, his methods had been unorthodox, but people liked him and he brought many the comfort they sought.

“I just want to understand why He would let this happen? Why would He take my baby from me? Was it something I did?”

Father Matthew shook his head and patted her hand softly. “You did nothing wrong, Rebecca. There is always a reason for the things He does; we cannot presume to know what they are, but know your child is at peace, He accepted her in through the gates of Heaven into His warm embrace, and one day soon, you will join her.”

Rebecca nodded and scooped her purse up. He was right—he was always right, and this constant questioning wouldn’t change anything.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, as she pushed up onto her feet.

“It’s been a long day and I think I need to get a good night’s sleep,” she said with a smile.

Father Matthew returned the smile, but Rebecca couldn’t help but feel that he was disappointed as he stood to let her pass. “Rest well, my child. I’ll see you at the next Mass.”

Rebecca nodded and moved out into the aisle. Father Matthew followed, but he went in the direction of the sacristy and Rebecca watched him disappear behind the altar as she dipped to genuflect.

The young woman was still sitting in the last pew at the end of the church, and Rebecca kept her gaze averted as she hurried past. Everyone had their own problems; she wasn’t going to get involved with someone else’s when she didn’t so much as know their name.

T
heir babbling
, incomprehensible cries filled Mia’s mind and she ducked her head lower in an attempt to blot it out. There was so much pain and grief in the world. So much heartache, and it seemed to be getting worse.

The church with its mostly-empty pews and gravely sombre atmosphere was the last refuge against the constant crying out for help, the voices that begged for one last chance or for it all to simply end. The young woman sitting a couple of pews ahead spoke to the priest, an unremarkable man whose name Mia couldn’t remember. The woman’s words were low and impossible to pick out, but Mia didn’t need to hear what she was saying to know how she felt. Her grief screamed itself to anyone willing to listen. A loss so profound that many did not recover.

Mia kept her gaze trained on the floor as the young woman said her goodbyes to the priest and hurried out of the church.

Silence flooded in around her once more and for the first time that day, Mia sucked in a deep breath and lifted her hands away from her head. The thick stone walls provided some relief from the world outside; despite the priest still being inside the building, Mia couldn’t hear any of his thoughts. The place was oddly silent and it brought a kind of relief that only true solace can.

Some days were better than others—some days the constant chatter could be quelled and controlled, but not today. Last night had been like living with a radio on full blast inside her head, loud enough to bring her to tears and utterly inescapable.

Until now.

A scream ripped the air and instinctively Mia covered her head with her hands once more, but the noise in her mind was quiet.

Another scream.

This wasn’t coming from inside her head, this wasn’t the usual pleas for help, pain, grief, happiness … this was terror, and it was coming from outside the church.

Without thinking, Mia hopped to her feet and raced for the door. Cool night air greeted her the second she crashed out through the main doors, and the usual chatter of those living near the church returned tenfold.

There was another scream, but this one sounded closer than before and muffled. Taking the steps at the side door of the church, Mia rounded the corner into the parking lot where only a small handful of cars remained.

The woman from the church, the one whose grief had made Mia want to vomit or pull out her own hair, stood in the middle of the parking lot. She struggled in the grip of the man holding her and Mia’s steps faltered as she caught sight of the blade he held in his hand.

The grief-stricken woman lifted her frightened gaze to Mia’s face and this time Mia didn’t need to hear her terrorised thoughts to know what she was thinking. It was etched into her face, into the plea in her wide, wild eyes.

The man’s head jerked up, his gaze falling on Mia. The second she felt his cold, reptilian gaze on her, she wished she’d never caught his attention. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

Images flipped through Mia’s head faster than she could keep up with them. The taste of blood against her tongue and the smell of flesh as it was stripped from the bones of those who had fallen invaded her senses, sending her reeling backwards, gasping for air.

Christ, what were they? It was like nothing she’d ever experienced; humans didn’t think like this, or at least no human Mia had ever come in contact with before.

The woman he was holding had fallen silent, her body limp in his arms and he tossed her to the ground. The curiosity in his gaze was enough to send bile creeping up the back of Mia’s throat and she started to back pedal.

If she could just get back inside the church, then she’d be safe. Turning, Mia sucked in a breath. The woman standing on the top of the steps near the church door stared down at her with the same unblinking curiosity that sent her heart hammering in her chest.

Mia ran, her feet pounding across the pavement and down the sidewalk that led towards home. Nothing could touch her if she just made it home, nothing but the screaming anguish of those around her, but even that paled in comparison to whatever those things were back at the church.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and still she ran, not daring to look back, instinct telling her they still followed. If she faltered, if she glanced back even for a moment, it would be enough to break her stride, and once that happened, they would have her.

Ripping the keys from inside the old and battered hoodie she wore, Mia flung herself up the front steps on her porch and slammed the keys into the lock. The door opened without much protest and she collapsed into the hall; the entire house shook with the force of the door closing behind her.

Stumbling into the living room, she tugged the cellphone from her pocket. Her hands shook hard enough to make it almost impossible to find the number she needed. There was only one person who would understand what she had seen, only one person who wouldn’t look at her like she’d completely lost her mind.

A knock on the front door sent her to the window. Pulling back the heavy drapes, Mia peered out through the glass to the man and woman standing on the front porch.

“We just want to talk, Mia…” the woman said, her voice soft, gentle even, the tone of voice reserved for frightened animals.

Biting down on her tongue, Mia held her breath. The woman gestured something to the door and the man shook his head. Their words were a garbled mess, like someone playing a recording backwards, and no matter how hard she tried to figure out their conversation, it still didn’t make sense.

The woman lifted her hand to her mouth and bit down on the fleshy part of her palm, causing Mia to cringe. Who did that? What was the point of biting herself? It certainly wasn’t going to entice Mia out, not after watching them attempt to abduct that woman back at the church.

The woman slammed her hand against the front door, scrubbing her bloodied palm into the wood, and the house itself groaned under the pressure.

Lifting the phone to her ear, Mia listened to it ring until it rang out, the answer machine kicking in as her heart sank.

“You’ve reached the voice mail of Amber Morgan. I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you….”

The beep took forever to arrive, and when it did, Mia could feel her skin beginning to crawl. Something was coming, and whatever it was it wasn’t friendly.

“Amber, please, it’s Mia. You need to help me…. I saw something tonight at the St Anne’s church on Trinity. It’s followed me home. You know I’m not crazy, but you’re the only one who can help me. Please….”

The line went dead and Mia stared down at the screen, the words “no signal” flashing in time with her heartbeat.

A sound at the front door sent Mia’s heart crawling up into her throat. The lock popped open and the wooden door creaked as it swung in, sending all of her senses into overdrive.

She waited for the assault on her mind, but there was nothing but silence. Dead silence and just the faintest hum of static in her ears. He stepped into the hall and Mia’s stomach dropped into her boots as he came into view.

“You…” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Hello, Mia. I think you and I need a little chat about what you saw this morning….” His eyes flipped; the soul-eating darkness that filled them tore a scream from her throat and then there was nothing but static.