CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Trinity watched as her father screamed and ranted, his face purple with rage, arms raised, that pit at his feet swirling faster, oily bubbles rising, the face of the little girl she’d once been reflected in the ebony emptiness. The screams and wails and dead laughter that rose were hers. She was already in there—parts of her, at least—and so was every horror she’d forgotten. The terrible aching loneliness. The fear. Why, God? Why did you send me to him?

Shh, shh, shh.

She clutched the leg of the final pew, pulling herself to a sitting position again, the wooden leg bending and moaning and beginning to snap. Thud, thud, thud, thud.

A misty glow appeared in front of her, the light shimmering and taking shape. An angel. And she was ... singing. The music made her turn away from her bellowing father, away from that magnetic hellhole, transfixed by the notes that drifted from the angel’s mouth and bobbed in the air, their round bottoms moving slowly past. The wooden pew leg snapped, and she gasped, propelling herself upward as she grasped one of those notes and held on for dear life.

You nasty little slut. You deserve this.

The pull intensified, a vacuum lifting her from the floor and spinning her around, her legs hanging over the pit. But still she held on to that note, bobbing gently above her, the feel of it warm and soft, yet weighty too. The sour wind whipped, and the screeches rose, but the angel song continued on. The celestial being remained next to her, her gaze steady, orangey-red hair a bright contrast to the pulsating darkness all around. So beautiful. How could such beauty exist at a time such as this? The black, hellish ugliness thrashed and moaned. It hated the beauty.

Shh, shh, shh.

Her fingers were slipping; sobs ripped from her throat as she used every vestige of strength she’d been told she didn’t have to grasp the beauty tightly and turn from the pain. The angel’s hand came over hers, helping her to hold on. Hold on.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

A puff of vapor hit Trinity’s nose, and she inhaled, drawing in a massive pull of air as her father fell into the chasm and it closed around him, sucking itself up into nothing.

The angel smiled, and the last note dissolved under Trinity’s fingers. She dropped to the floor, the air knocked from her lungs.

She opened her eyes, and they darted around in fearful confusion as she gripped empty space. A handsome man with down-turned eyes was peering at her with deep concern, and he caught her hand and squeezed it. “You’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”

Next to her, the music ended, the final note lost to the swarm of police rushing through the door.