THE DEBT OF BLOOD AND SHADOWS

Vincent Caldwell was a man who wore his cruelty like a tailored suit. He walked down the center aisle of the church, flanked by four heavily armed men. The candlelight danced across his polished shoes and the silver handle of the walking stick he didn’t actually need.

"Dominic Ashford," Caldwell called out, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I have to admit, I didn't think you'd survive Silas. The man had a lot of ambition. A shame about his aim."

I pressed my back against the cold marble of the altar, checking my magazine. Twelve rounds. Elena was beside me, her breathing fast and ragged, her grip on the 9mm white-knuckled.

"You're a long way from home, Vincent," I yelled back, my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my veins.

"Home is where the money is, Dominic," Caldwell replied calmly. "And your lovely sister-in-law has something that belongs to me. A key. Hand it over, and I'll let you walk out of here. Both of you."

"You lie," Elena hissed under her breath.

"I know," I whispered back. I looked at her. "The crypt. Where is the entrance?"

She pointed toward a heavy wooden door to the left of the altar, obscured by shadows. "Behind the baptismal font. It leads down to the old foundations."

"On my signal, you run. Don't look back. Find the boy."

"I'm not leaving you up here alone—"

"I have twelve rounds and a shotgun," I interrupted, my eyes locking onto hers. "I can hold them. You have to get Leo. If Caldwell gets him, he gets the key, and we all die. Go."

I didn't wait for her to argue. I rolled out from behind the right side of the altar, bringing the shotgun up, and fired twice.

The heavy slugs tore through the wooden pews, catching two of Caldwell's men in the chest. They went down hard.

"Kill him!" Caldwell screamed, scrambling for cover behind a stone pillar.

Automatic fire shredded the marble behind me. Stone fragments exploded into the air, raining down on my head. Through the chaos, I heard the heavy thud of the crypt door slamming shut. Elena had made it.

I dropped the empty shotgun and drew my pistol, retreating toward the sacristy hallway. I needed to draw them away from the crypt entrance.

"Flank him!" Caldwell shouted.

I moved fast, slipping through a side door into a narrow, dark hallway that smelled of old wax. Footsteps echoed loudly behind me. I pressed myself against the wall, waiting.

A shadow crossed the threshold. I grabbed the man's rifle barrel, shoving it upward as he fired into the ceiling, and drove my knee into his chest. He collapsed. I took his rifle, tossing my pistol.

Suddenly, a massive weight slammed into my back.

I hit the stone floor hard, the rifle skittering away. A fourth man, massive and built like a tank, dragged me up by my coat collar and slammed me against the wall. The impact rattled my teeth.

He drew a combat knife, aiming for my gut. I caught his wrist with both hands, straining against his immense strength. The blade inched closer to my stomach.

I needed a miracle.

Instead, I got a reversal.

A loud crack echoed in the hallway. The giant above me stiffened, his eyes going wide. He slumped forward, dead weight crushing me. I shoved him off and looked up.

Standing at the end of the hallway was Elena. Her gun was raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

"I thought I told you to go down to the crypt," I panted, grabbing the rifle from the floor.

"The iron gate is locked," she said, her voice shaking but her hands steady. "Father Thomas had the key, but... he's gone, Dominic. He passed away. I couldn't find the key on him."

"Where is Caldwell?"

"I don't know. He vanished when the shooting started."

A cold dread washed over me. Caldwell didn't retreat. He advanced.

"He went for the crypt," I said, breaking into a run.

We sprinted back into the sanctuary. It was empty. The dead men lay on the floor, but Caldwell was gone. The heavy wooden door behind the baptismal font was wide open.

We plunged into the darkness of the stairwell, our flashlights cutting through the gloom. The air grew instantly colder, smelling of damp earth and old stone.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a massive, rusted iron gate. The padlock hanging from it had been shattered by a gunshot.