Page 8 of Unholy Masks

“Enzo? Enzo?”

Nothing.

I looked at Ryden, whose gaze was already fixed on the door at the back.

I took off running. Dread gripped my stomach with tight fingers as I reached the door. Ryden was right behind me, his heavy footsteps following as we burst into the crematorium. The heavy steel door of the cremation chamber was slightly ajar. Smoke leaked from the opening in thick curls.

My throat tightened, and my eyes burned as I grabbed Ryden’s arm. “There.”

With a grunt, he opened the door, revealing a wooden coffin inside. A faint but unmistakable crackling sound came from it, and I caught the scent of burning varnish.

It wasn’t turned on, but the Strangler had likely used some accelerant to start the fire.

Ryden leaned closer, his face pale. “We need to get him out.” He pulled on thick leather gloves by the side and dragged the coffin out of the chamber. It was nailed shut, and the end was scarred. If we came a few hours later… Enzo…

I ran to my car, grabbed the crowbar, and ran back in. Pushing it between the edges of the coffin lid, I pried it open. It took a while, but the lid came free after a few minutes with a protesting groan.

Ryden’s hands shook.

Enzo lay there, unmoving. Skin pale and covered in soot, eyes closed.

Ryden’s breath hitched. He didn’t speak, didn’t blink, as though even a single movement might break whatever spell held Enzo between life and death.

“Is he—”

I forced myself to reach forward, my hand hovering above Enzo’s face. A shudder ran down my spine; he looked so still, so wrong. I was afraid to touch him.

What if we were too late?

I pressed my fingers to his neck, hoping, praying to feel something.

Nothing.

3

FROM DUST TO DUST

TRISH

The garage door groaned as I pushed it open.

Sister Serena looked up from where she sat. Her eyes met mine, wide and glistening with unshed tears. But it wasn’t fear that filled them. No, there was something more, something I had never seen in any of my victims.

Acceptance? Forgiveness?

“I didn’t want to do this. But once she finds you for answers, you would have given her something.” I crouched down beside her, my fingers reaching to pull the tape from her mouth. I took the rag from between her lips, watching her take in a sharp, shuddering breath.

“Why, my child?”

“You used to say that we would all go back to God someday, didn’t you?” I tilted my head, my eyes never leaving hers. “Say hi to Tany when you see her.”

She closed her eyes. “God bless you, child.”

The words grated like sandpaper against my skin.

“To hell with God,” I hissed. “I’m God here. I’m the beginning and the end, the one who decides life and death.”

“He broke your heart. Robert Miller. I’m sorry, Patricia. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him. Tany died, but you lived with all the scars, and I was a coward. I shouldn’t have run away.”