Once outside, Michael frowned. “We need to get moving.”
“What’s wrong?” Ryder asked.
“We need to get to the car. Now” was all Michael said.
Picking up on his sense of urgency, Angelique grasped Father Vintaldi’s hands. “
“Something evil comes?”
“
“God go with you all.” Father Vintaldi made the sign of the cross with his hand, then hurried up the walk toward the side of the church. Angelique watched him open the door and step inside, then close it behind him. She refused to budge until she heard the click of the lock, wanting to be certain the old priest was safe. He had risked his life hiding the black diamond for her.
“Move, Angie.” Ryder grabbed her elbow and hurried her along the rocky path of the side road toward the SUV, already pulling his weapon. He tossed a sharp glance from one side to the other, as if he knew what he was looking for, but she didn’t see a thing.
Michael and Dalton were already at the vehicle, Mandy and Trace standing guard around it, weapons drawn. The doors were open and Angelique and Ryder were only ten feet away.
That’s when the demons materialized right in front of them, blocking them from the SUV.
Damn. And she was holding the bag with the black diamond. Why hadn’t she handed it off to Michael? Then it would have been safe.
Everything happened so fast, she didn’t have time to think. Ryder pushed her behind him and leveled his gun on the demons. She wore the special sunglasses and ear devices Ryder had given her for protection, so the sonic blast toward the demons only made her jump, didn’t hurt her ears. She took two steps back, wanting to give him room to fire.
That’s when she heard Dalton and Trace shout the warning, but it was too late.
Everything seemed to happen as if it were slow motion, like in a movie. Ryder turned around and leveled his weapon, seemingly at her. But that couldn’t be right.
Then she understood, because at the same time cold hands surrounded her. She turned her head and saw the demons, their leering faces appearing on each side of her.
She didn’t even have time to register shock. They were everywhere, all around her. So was the mist-white, yet so thick she couldn’t see through it, could no longer see Ryder. The demons, or maybe it was the mist, held her; she couldn’t move. The last thing she managed to filter through the thickening mist was more demons surrounding Ryder and the others, but then the mist swallowed her up. Dizziness overcame her and everything went black.
Isabelle sat in the old chapel, her hands clasped in her lap, nothing to occupy her mind for the past few hours except her own thoughts.
Which wasn’t a good thing at all, since her thoughts weren’t pleasant. It was bad enough she’d memorized every word of her mother’s diary. She had a very good memory, so the conversation with Michael and the other demon hunters was fresh in her mind, too.
The Queen of Darkness. One hell of a title, wasn’t it? And one she didn’t care to have attributed to her.
She’d always wanted to be famous, had craved a big archaeological find-one that would set her up for life. She would grace the cover of magazines. Hollywood would come calling. Maybe they’d even make movies about the great archaeologist and treasure hunter Isabelle Deveraux. And she’d finally make her mother proud of her.
Yeah, she’d had big dreams. But nowhere in her dreams was she going to be crowned Queen of the Demons.
The thought of it made her nauseous.
This whole place seemed ancient. Scary.
She wished Angelique was here, holding her hand, putting her arm around her. She closed her eyes, trying to find that certain something that connected her to her sister.
But it was gone. All she felt was. . emptiness.
Why couldn’t things be different?
She laid her palm across her stomach, fighting the sickness that had started about a half hour ago. When she’d first come in here the old church had been drafty and cold, completely cut off from light and warmth. There were no windows in the chapel, the only light from torches along the rows of pews and on the altar.
She’d been chilled to the bone.
But now it was hot in here, and she’d started to perspire. She’d already put her hair up in a clip; could feel the dampness on the back of her neck, the beads of perspiration gathering between her breasts.
She didn’t feel well. Something was wrong.
She stretched out on the hard wood bench and curled her knees against her chest, hoping it would help quell the dizziness and nausea. The cool wood felt good against her face, but it wasn’t enough. Lying down made it worse, so she sat up again, trying to focus on the altar, hoping the colorful artifacts would distract her from her physical ailments.
Statues of the Virgin Mary, her smiling, forgiving face reaching across the chapel. The crucifix. . so ancient- was the cross actually made of a pale rose marble? It was beautiful. She’d love to get an up close look at it. She rose, holding on to the pew railings for strength as she made her way toward the front of the church.
She felt weak. The closer she got to the altar, the more her stomach tumbled. Her legs shook, pain and nausea overwhelming her. What was wrong with her?
