Chapter 21

Trinity’s is off the charts. Insane. Part of me thought the girls were joking about it being a converted church, but nope. I assumed maybe at best it was a shitty little chapel. Also nope.

Trinity’s doesn’t even look all that converted. It’s certainly the size of the freaking cathedral back home in Deathfall, and from the outside it still looks one hundred percent like a freaking place of worship.

Shit. I should probably stop thinking of Deathfall as home. There’s nothing there for me anymore. What a sobering thought.

“I need more drinks,” I sigh. The girls stare at me like I’m crazy. I guess I did just randomly interrupt whatever conversation I checked out of that they were having.

I rub my arms to keep warm, but it’s my bloody bare back that’s freezing. I almost wish I brought a jacket, even though I hate to carry one. I didn’t know if the club tonight would have a cloak room.

I glance up at Trinity’s. There isn’t even any signage to suggest that this place is a club and not a church. Humongous towering arched stained glass windows and a beautiful up-lit domed bell tower with a clock mark its statuesque place of importance in the centre of town, and the only giveaway that the line of people queueing around the block to get in aren’t in fact here for midnight mass is the thumping bass coming from within whenever the old oak doors open. The lights on the outside of the building illuminate the stained glass windows, but no light comes from within, which is odd.

I find myself admiring how crazy well it’s soundproofed as we get closer and closer to the entrance. Again, odd. We’re not in a residential zone, the church is literally situated on the high street beside a bloody Primark for god’s sake, so why the need for soundproofing is beyond me.

“Evening, ladies, you all have a fine night tonight,” the bouncer says cordially when we finally reach the front and have shown our IDs. He doesn’t even leer at us so either he’s an absolute professional, or gay. I’m not part of the beautiful crowd, but my new found friends sure as fuck are so I would expect any sane guy to appreciate the view.

We’re waved inside and the entranceway is a dimly lit, stone floored corridor which feels very much like the entrance to Sunday School. The only decor is missals and religious pamphlets on the windowsills as we pass. I point to one.

“Erm? What?”

Jess laughs. “The owners decided to keep them. They think it’s hilarious, but they’re surprisingly popular. Bill, the guy on the door, said they keep having to reprint. I guess the owners have a sense of humour.”

It reassures me that Trinity’s can’t belong to my guys because Axel definitely doesn’t have a sense of humour. Kaiden maybe, but Axel is too much of a control freak to let him get away with something like this. My shoulders lighten, and I grin back at Jess.

“Maybe I’ll see which ‘save your soul’ leaflet calls to me on the way out.”

“You do that,” she replies dryly.

At the end of the corridor, twin double doors mirroring the ones we came through bar our entry into the club. Lou grins at me in excitement, obviously wanting to see my reaction, and then nods to Lucy and Steph to open them.

My jaw drops. If I thought the outside was off the charts, it’s nothing compared to the inside. Holy fuck. It steals my breath.

Strobe lights randomly illuminate the blackout space which is filled with a writhing mass of bodies. The interior has been stripped of pews but the altar in the sanctuary remains, somewhat cleverly repurposed into the DJ’s mixing area. Behind the DJ, towering candles burn encased in what I’m guessing is glass or Perspex lighting up the enormous crucifix suspended from the ceiling. The font at the back of the church marks the start of the bar spanning the width of the building, and there’s an honest to god stripper’s pole protruding out of the raised pulpit at the front.

It’s just…whoa. How on earth did a place like this ever get planning permission or past health and safety laws? Even the organ pipes are still intact but seem to be working as speakers for the sound system.

“Come on, drink then dance!” Steph shouts above the driving beat. The acoustics are amazing in here.

We follow her through to the bar where she quickly elbows her way to the front of the queue, flips her white-blonde locks and bats her eyelashes at the nearest bartender. He virtually drops the drink in his hand to scramble over to serve her. She orders us a massive tray of shots and we make short work of downing them, though Jess does far fewer than the rest of us. I drink her share. Why not, if I’m back on doe duty tomorrow.

With far too much alcohol coursing through my veins, I follow Lou onto the dance floor and let my inhibitions go. I never got to do this; let free. When the guys were around I was too young, and when they were gone, I was still too young, but also too broken to want to. I’ve only been eighteen a few months, and until this week I never really marked the occasion. Not like I have anything to celebrate or anything, but it’s good to just…let go for the first time in years.

I throw my arms above my head and lose myself in the music, head back, eyes closed, hips loose. I probably look like a right tit, but I’m too buzzed to care. It’s not even my kind of music, but again with the not caring.

I dance until my feet scream but I don’t give up. It’s only when the girls start tugging me towards the front of the club, near the altar, that I pay attention to what’s going on. I swear hours have passed and I’ve been on the dance floor the entire time, being plied with drinks by Lucy, Steph and Lou. Jess seems to have switched to water but is still dancing and having fun with the rest of us. I love that she doesn’t need to drink to have a good time, which would normally be my way of thinking, but tonight’s a special circumstance.

Lucy thrusts a drink into each of my hands. “Here, these are from Mark and Rob.”

“Mark and Rob?” I crinkle my nose in confusion.

“Erm, yeah, my boyfriend Mark and your flatmate, Rob. Ring any bells?” Steph laughs, shaking her head at me. I down the shots and shudder at the sour taste. What was that shit? I only drank it because Mark is a decent enough guy. I wouldn’t touch anything Rob had been near. He gives me the creeps.

“Come on, Odi! We have to see you up there!” Lou screams in my ear, making me wince. Despite the loud music I could hear her just fine, I just wasn’t paying any attention again.

“Up where?” I frown.

Lou points to the pole on the pulpit, and I laugh like it’s the funniest joke I’ve ever heard. Even to my own ringing ears I can tell it’s slightly manic.

“Erm, no. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get me up there, guys,” I tell them. I’m laughing but there’s a tightness in my chest that could become a problem if I allow the fear to spread. They don’t know that I can’t get up there and dance. That I wouldn’t be able to breathe if I did.

Fuck.

Black spots dance across my vision and beads of sweat roll down my face.

“I need the toilet. I’ll, erm, catch you guys later.”

“Want me to come with you?” Jess offers, but I wave her away. I’m not one of those girls who needs to go to the loo in a pack.

Stumbling away from our group, I push my way through the dancers with a little more force than is necessary. I’m sure Jess said earlier that the toilets were downstairs. It makes sense, given the structure of the building, but it’s still creepy as fuck.

I push my way to the north transept but the only stairs there lead up to the gallery, so once again I have to cross the dance floor to reach the southern steps down to the crypt.

I refuse to think about how narrow the stairwell is. How dark and claustrophobic. Reaching a hand out to touch the smooth, cooling stone wall helps to ground me, but as I stumble my way down it gets harder and harder to see. Or breathe. Or maybe both.

I’m sure that any minute now I’ll round the final corner of the spiral stone staircase and emerge into a brightly lit, well signposted corridor, or at least a queue for the ladies’. It doesn’t occur to me that the lighting might just be shit; I assume it’s just because I’m freaking out and on the verge of a moderate panic attack.

Which is stupid. Tight spaces don’t bother me that much. Being locked in them does.

But I guess the staircase narrow enough to brush my arms on each wall, coupled with the pole dancing and the reminders of the guys tonight is pushing me over the edge.

Oh, and the alcohol teamed with a lack of food. Apparently I’m just an idiot.

At the bottom of the stairs there is a little more light, and thankfully the strobes have been kept to the dance floor. I feel a migraine coming on. I should probably call it a night. I bet if I asked Jess to come home early with me she would.

Although, now that I’m down here, I really do need the loo. At least the air is cooler so I can take some deep breaths to try and calm my racing pulse.

I creep down the winding corridor which snakes under the main room upstairs, searching for what I need. It has to be here somewhere. There are doors on both sides of the corridor and I sporadically try some, finding most locked. Occasionally the door opens into a blackened room, but I don’t bother to explore because it’s clearly not the restroom.

Eventually I hear noises and two things hit me at once: the sudden, quiet, muffled sound of low voices arguing and the realisation that the whole time I’ve been down here it’s been eerily quiet. Not only have I not met another soul, there’s no sound from the floor above at all. My own pulse thrums noisily through my body and my breathing is coming in laboured snatches.

Maybe if I can just concentrate on those voices I can find them and ask where the loo is.

I stumble over the uneven flagstone floor and crash into a door, which unfortunately isn’t locked, meaning I crash through it. Jesus, I didn’t think I was that drunk.

I realise I’ve fallen into a dimly lit room, which isn’t empty.

“I’m sorry—” I slur, my voice coming out slow and awkward. I really don’t feel right.

“Get her out of here!” a vaguely familiar voice hisses with urgency.

“Looking…toilet…” I mumble as someone steps out of the shadows and approaches me, I squint to focus on his face, craning my head back even in my heels. He’s so tall. He looks familiar too, but I can’t quite place him,

“S-s-sorry! H-h-help me!” a sobbing, panicked, desperate sort of voice comes from the shadows. I crane my neck and rise up onto my tiptoes, desperately trying to peer over the shoulder of the behemoth guy in front of me. Tipping too far, I totter and begin to fall just as the sound of a firecracker goes off and strong arms grab my waist to save me. It’s like a lightbulb moment in my brain, if the bulb needed to slowly warm up because it’s an energy saving piece of shit. Eventually I realise I’ve heard that sound enough times to know that a gunshot through a silencer just went off.

“What was that?” I ask. The panicked gripping of my fingers onto the shirt of the guy who saved me is the only indication of my fear; my thick words come out leisurely like I’ve just asked the time, while stoned.

“What’s wrong with her?” A cold, completely calm voice asks from the shadows.

It’s immediately joined by another. “She just witnessed a murder! You need to take care of her.” They sound like they’re freaking out and it gives me the uncontrollable urge to giggle.

“Something isn’t right. What’s wrong with her?” The calm voice asks again. I can’t answer him though because my eyes start to close and my legs turn to jelly.

“Fuck! I got you Odile,” my saviour murmurs, cradling me in his arms against his broad, strong chest.

“Hector?”

“Get her looked at by a doctor and then home. Call me if it’s anything serious.”

“Yes, boss.” The rumble of his deep baritone feels nice against my ear resting on his chest. “Sleep now, little one. You’re safe.”

“But…need…toilet…leaflet…”

Actually that sounds like a really good idea.