Chapter 107
Chapter 107
Elizabeth
The church bell rang again.
Low.
Heavy.
Ancient.
The sound drifted through the quiet mansion and settled over all of us like a warning.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Another bell echoed across the city.
Damon walked toward the nearest window.
I followed.
The sky outside was still dark.
New Orleans slept beneath a blanket of moonlight and shadows.
It wasn’t dawn.
Not even close.
Yet somewhere in the French Quarter, church bells were ringing.
My stomach tightened.
“That’s not normal, is it?”
Lucien snorted.
“Elizabeth, at this point, if something is normal, that’s when you should worry.”
Fair.
Unfortunately.
Adam joined us at the window.
His expression was thoughtful.
“The church has been abandoned for decades.”
Another bell rang.
Tristan frowned.
“Not anymore.”
Silence.
I hated when he said things like that.
The mark on my hand pulsed again.
Not painful.
Just enough to remind me it existed.
Like it was paying attention.
Waiting.
Watching.
I folded my arms.
“I have a bad feeling.”
Damon glanced at me.
“You always have a bad feeling.”
“I wonder why.”
His mouth twitched slightly.
I caught it.
And apparently he realized I caught it because he immediately looked away.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Lucien noticed too.
Of course he did.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Damon looked at him.
Lucien immediately raised both hands.
“Never mind.”
Smart choice.
Adam sighed.
“We need to move.”
That ended the conversation immediately.
The church bells continued ringing.
Slow.
Steady.
Patient.
As though they knew we were coming.
Which was an unsettling thought.
Ten minutes later, we were leaving the mansion.
The city was strangely quiet.
No traffic.
No music.
No late-night crowds.
Even Bourbon Street seemed muted.
As though New Orleans itself was holding its breath.
I sat in the backseat beside Lucien.
Damon was driving.
Adam sat in the passenger seat.
Tristan followed behind us in another vehicle.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
Just heavy.
Eventually Lucien sighed dramatically.
“I’d like everyone to know I was having an excellent evening before ancient churches became involved.”
Adam didn’t turn around.
“You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true every time.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
The church bell rang again.
Closer now.
Much closer.
The sound seemed to vibrate through my chest.
I looked out the window.
The streets were empty.
Too empty.
A strange feeling settled over me.
Like the city was watching.
I hated that feeling.
Very much.
The mark warmed.
I looked down.
The symbol glowed faintly beneath my skin.
Damon noticed through the rearview mirror.
Of course he did.
His eyes flicked toward me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
His eyebrow lifted.
I sighed.
“It’s glowing again.”
Immediately, everyone’s attention shifted.
Wonderful.
I loved being the center of supernatural problems.
Truly.
Adam looked back.
“Does it hurt?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
That was actually what worried me.
Usually it hurt.
Usually there was some dramatic vision or mysterious warning.
Now it just felt…
Aware.
As though something was waiting.
The church bell rang again.
Then stopped.
The silence afterward felt wrong.
I looked out the window.
And froze.
“There.”
Everyone followed my gaze.
The church stood at the end of the street.
Small.
Old.
Weathered by time.
Moonlight illuminated its stone walls.
The stained-glass windows were dark.
The front doors were closed.
At first glance, it looked completely ordinary.
Then I noticed the people.
My stomach dropped.
They stood silently outside the church.
Dozens of them.
Maybe more.
Men.
Women.
Young.
Old.
All facing the building.
None of them moving.
None of them speaking.
Just standing there.
Watching.
“What the hell?”
Lucien’s voice echoed my thoughts perfectly.
The cars slowed.
Adam stared.
“Who are they?”
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
The people didn’t appear supernatural.
They looked normal.
Ordinary.
Yet something about them felt wrong.
Like puppets waiting for instructions.
Damon parked several buildings away.
Nobody immediately got out.
We simply watched.
The crowd remained motionless.
Not talking.
Not reacting.
Just staring at the church.
I suddenly wished I was back at the mansion.
Damon opened his door.
“We’re going.”
Of course we were.
I climbed out.
The night air felt colder than it should have.
The crowd still hadn’t moved.
Not a single person looked at us.
It was as though we didn’t exist.
Lucien walked beside me.
“Okay.”
Silence.
“This is officially creepy.”
I nodded.
“Very creepy.”
Adam approached one of the strangers.
A middle-aged man wearing a dark jacket.
“Sir?”
No response.
The man didn’t even blink.
Adam frowned.
“Sir.”
Nothing.
The man’s eyes remained fixed on the church.
Tristan approached another woman.
Same result.
No reaction.
No acknowledgment.
Nothing.
A chill ran down my spine.
They weren’t asleep.
They weren’t unconscious.
They were standing.
Breathing.
Blinking.
Yet somehow absent.
The mark on my hand suddenly pulsed.
The crowd moved.
I froze.
Every head turned toward me.
At once.
Dozens of faces.
Dozens of eyes.
Watching.
My breath caught.
Nobody spoke.
The silence became unbearable.
Then—
A little girl stepped forward.
She couldn’t have been older than eight.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
Pale skin.
Completely ordinary.
Except for the fact that she shouldn’t have been standing here at three in the morning.
She looked directly at me.
Then smiled.
My stomach dropped.
Because it wasn’t her smile.
Something else was behind it.
Something older.
Something watching.
The little girl pointed toward the church.
Then said:
“You’re late.”
Silence.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Damon.
His expression had become deadly.
The girl continued smiling.
“The gate is waiting.”
Adam stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
The girl ignored him.
Her eyes remained fixed on me.
“She doesn’t remember.”
The crowd murmured.
Not loudly.
Just enough to send chills through me.
She doesn’t remember.
She doesn’t remember.
She doesn’t remember.
The whispers spread through the crowd.
Dozens of voices.
Repeating the same phrase.
The same terrible phrase.
My pulse raced.
I looked at Damon.
“What are they talking about?”
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
The little girl tilted her head.
Almost sadly.
“You forgot.”
The crowd repeated it.
You forgot.
You forgot.
You forgot.
The church doors suddenly creaked open.
Every whisper stopped instantly.
Silence crashed over the street.
The little girl smiled.
Then stepped aside.
The crowd parted.
Creating a path.
Straight to the church.
My stomach twisted.
The mark on my hand burned.
Not painfully.
Urgently.
As though it recognized something inside.
The darkness beyond the church entrance seemed deeper than it should have been.
Waiting.
Watching.
The little girl pointed toward the doorway.
Then said softly:
“Only one of you belongs inside.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Then her blue eyes shifted.
Past me.
Toward Damon.