“In hell, you mean,” she says.
“Hell’s not so bad. We’re free there. The angels are kings, and you could be a princess. And you could remain with your child.”
“Don’t do it,” Anna says.
“Come with me, and we’ll let your mother go unharmed, for the rest of her life,” Asael promises.
“No. Remember what I taught you,” Anna murmurs. “Don’t worry about me. They can murder my body, but they can never harm my soul.”
“Are you so sure about that?” Asael asks. “Olivia, come here, dear. Perhaps we should educate her. This”—he pauses briefly—“is a very special kind of knife. I call it Dubium Alta—the great doubt. The blade causes grievous injury, I’m afraid, to both body and soul. If I say the word, my girl Olivia here will cut your soul to ribbons. I think she’ll rather enjoy it.”
“Lead us not into temptation—”
“Olivia,” he prompts.
I don’t hear the one called Olivia move, but suddenly Anna gives a long, agonized cry.
“Mom,” whispers Angela, as Anna dissolves into ragged sobs.
I taste blood I’m biting my lip so hard. Christian’s hand comes down on my arm, tight enough to hurt.
No, he says.
I’ll call glory, I say, and we’ll run to them, before they can—
I feel him going through the possible scenarios, but none of them work, none of them will end the way we want them to, with all of us together and safe. It’s no use, he says. They’re too fast. Even with surprise on our side, there are too many of them. They’re too strong.
“And deliver us from evil,” Anna pants out finally.
“She’s a bit like a broken record, isn’t she? Olivia, sweetheart …”
Anna cries out again.
“Stop,” Angela says. “Stop hurting her!” She takes a deep breath. “I will take you to Web—to the baby.”
“Excellent,” Asael almost purrs.
“No, Angela,” Anna pleads weakly, like speaking is almost too much for her.
“You have to promise me that he’ll be taken care of, that he’ll be safe,” Angela says.
“I give you my word,” Asael agrees. “Not a hair on his head will be harmed.”
“All right. Let’s go, then,” she says.
Christian starts pulling me down the stairs.
But Asael sighs. “I wish I could believe you, my dear.”
“What?” Angela’s confused.
“You have no intention of taking us to your son. I hate to think of the wild goose chase you’d lead us on.”
“No, I swear—”
“You’ll give me what I want,” he says almost cheerfully. “Eventually. A few hours in hell and you’ll be drawing me a map to the child, I think.” His voice hardens. “All right, Olivia. I’m tired of playing games.”
“Wait!” Angela says desperately. “I said I would—”
Someone gags—a muffled cough, choking.
“Mom!” Angela’s crying, struggling against someone’s arms. “Mom! Mom!”
Anna whispers hoarsely, “God help me,” and falls heavily to the floor.
I can smell her blood.
God help me.
“Mom,” whimpers Angela. “No.”
The reality of what’s happened breaks over me like a tidal wave. We’ve waited too long, too afraid to take action. We’ve let this happen. We’ve let them kill her.
“Let’s go,” Asael says.
They move swiftly toward the door, giving Christian only seconds to drag me down the stairs before we’re seen. There’s not enough time to make it across the lobby and out into the street. He pulls me inside the auditorium, moving us blindly into the dark.
For a few minutes I stand in the blackness, quaking, my eyes going in and out of focus, my stomach cramping, yet at the same time I feel strangely disconnected from my body, like I’m seeing myself from a distance. From a vision, maybe. My vision.