None of the women, living or dead, moved. If anything, their faces grew harder at the threat. Several joined hands.
Malcolm stared in disbelief at the enraptured women. “What is wrong with you? You saw what he did to Eleanor. You see these two things here?”
“No,” Lilith cried out. “He didn’t do anything to Eleanor. She chose. Any of us would have done the same. We must save Britain from villains such as you. We are Jerusalem.”
Barnes nodded placidly and slid the ring on the middle finger of his left hand. “Well said, Lilith. Would you hand Eleanor’s knife to me, please.”
The hard-eyed Lilith smiled with pride and yanked the bloody dagger from her friend’s cooling body. Barnes took it and moved closer to the altar.
“It should be clear by now,” Barnes called out, “that you and Archer are on the wrong side of history. We are saving this land. Our great enemies will be vanquished. But you won’t live to see it because you don’t deserve to do so.”
Barnes lowered his head and took several deep breaths. From nearby, off to the side of the altar, a door slammed open. The brawny tough from the salon emerged through the dark rectangle. A group of ten or so walking cadavers followed him. They emerged into the dim light of the church, moving purposefully toward Malcolm, dragging their damp shrouds behind them.
Barnes placed the knife over Eleanor’s chest, preparing to carve. “My dears, please tear him into pieces.”
The two brides charged Malcolm with dead hands upraised, mouths agape. He fired. Both undead women were hit, jerking with the impacts, but kept coming with remarkable speed. Madeleine grabbed him, and threw him. Malcolm slammed hard into the wooden pews, his grip on the rifle lost as his arm went numb. He heard a crack and hoped he hadn’t broken a bone. He pulled himself up onto the back of the pew. He yanked his coat out of the grip of one of the ghouls only to slam into the other on the opposite side. Ungodly strong hands were on him, and proceeded to throttle him. He pulled a pistol and fired, blowing a large hole in Cecilia’s chest. The walking corpse staggered back, more disconcerted than in pain. Madeleine dragged him into her arms.
He struggled, twisting the barrel behind him and fired. Flesh and fluids covered him. He felt the grip ease so he pulled away and scrambled under the pews. The two silent things started climbing over the wooden benches in pursuit. As soon as they passed over top of him, Malcolm stood and ran down an aisle. He stopped suddenly as a gang of cadavers staggered in front of him, reaching out with clawlike fingers. He battered at the moldering things with his heavy pistol.
The Scotsman holstered one of his guns and drew a long blade. The undead thug rushed him, and Malcolm ducked under a heavy swipe of the man’s solid fist. Malcolm maneuvered behind and clamped his arm around the man’s forehead, tilting the head backward. The dagger made short work of the exposed throat, cutting to the bone. With a jagged wrench, Malcolm pulled back hard. The brute’s head tilted toward the right shoulder. Malcolm released the man and kicked him square in the back into the reaching cadavers. The force was too much for the decaying tendons, and the head snapped off and rolled under a pew. The large body fell heavily to the floor.
A corpse without lips grabbed hold of Malcolm’s left arm and he shot it. Another quickly grabbed his right. More hands reached for his throat. One clamped onto his shoulder with its teeth, snarling like some animal. They dragged Malcolm down to the flagstones. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs, only the dead pressed on top of his chest and around his throat. He felt cold, clammy hands squeezing the breath from him.
An echoing howl erupted, rattling the church. It raised the hairs on the back of Malcolm’s neck. Even the undead paused now. A massive hairy figure stalked from the shadows with pounding steps, her narrowing canine eyes sweeping from side to side.
“Charlotte!” Malcolm gasped.
The werewolf leapt. Clawed hands seized and tore at the undead that held Malcolm. Where once the sight of such a beast would have chilled him, now it filled him with elation. He was jerked back and forth as the cadavers were plucked off him like ticks. The smell of blood and gore crowded his nostrils. Bodies flew all about him. He heard growling and recognized a furry face that pushed into his blurry view.