Chapter 21
Serra
I had injected two vials of Sammy's blood as we loaded up the cars, truck, and headed off, Santiago following us on his beautifully rebuilt 1971 Triumph Bonneville. I couldn't help being jealous of the freedom he had on the bike; the wind blowing through his hair and the engine between his legs.
"What's the matter?" Grace asked as she turned towards me, the windows forcing her hair across her face. She held the steering wheel with her thighs as she gathered up her mass of blonde hair to tie it up in a messy bun on top of her head. "You keep looking in the rearview mirror."
"I want a motorcycle," I replied simply, shrugging once.
Grace rolled her eyes. "You only want one because Santiago has one. You have your truck and two kids," she clicked her tongue. "No motorcycles. It's a good way to get dead."
I made a face and stared out the open passenger side window, still staring into the rearview mirror. "Not if you know how to ride one."
"No motorcycles."
We pulled into town silently, our headlights off and our motors barely idling. Grace parked the Chevelle on the backside of an alley, away from the others, behind a tiny drug-slash-video rental store and handed me her keys.
Staring at my sister as I took them from her, I lifted my eyebrows, questioning.
"My jeans don't have any front pockets and I'm taking off my jacket," her thoughts came into my head without hesitation. "I really wish they started making good girl jeans with real pockets."
I couldn't help laughing as I pocketed her keys. Luckily, I had front pockets in my jeans, considering my leather moto jacket's pockets were full of bullets. She turned towards Dean and smiled. We were all practically giddy, now that we were on our way to bring Everett home.
"Well," Crowley's voice came from behind me without preamble. "She just thinks she bloody well owns the place already," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, whispering as I made sure all my guns were loaded.
The demon's face was cast in weak shadow, making him look more sinister than he was. "She's managed to cast a few spells to bring my hounds out."
Grace and Dean whipped around to stare at Crowley, open mouthed. "What?" Grace whispered. Her eyes were wide and in the relative darkness, Grace seemed to glow.
"Delilah knows more of my spells than I care to admit," Crowley explained. "One of them is to control some of the Shadow Demons, including my Hellhounds."
Sam swallowed, glancing up at his brother. "Great," he murmured. "Anything else we should know before we get this party started?"
Crowley rolled his thoughts around in his head longer than I was comfortable. "Spit it out," I finally sighed, knowing there was more bad news.
"The Hellhounds and Shadow Demons won't go after the angels, so don't worry about them. Worry about yourselves. You can smell them coming, usually, and most of the time, you will be able to outrun them, and they'll lose interest. The angel bullets will most likely kill them, but I'm rather fond of my hounds, so if you don't mind, don't murder them all."
I rolled my eyes as I let the slide snap into place on one of my silver-on-black Colt forty-five. "I'll do my best," I smiled sweetly at him, having no mercy.
…
Serra
Grace and Dean led the group towards the church at the end of town, hiding in the shadows as we made our way through the night. It was well past midnight by this time; we had bided our time to make sure everyone was locked and loaded, and cars were hidden all over, making our eventual escape a bit easier. The sleepy little town was barely that: we hadn't seen one person since arriving, so staying out of sight wasn't hard to do. Finally, at the end of the main road, there was a cluster of witches near the tree line.
Holding up my palm towards my sister, I glanced back at her, "You smell that?" I asked, keeping my voice silent and using only my mind.
She nodded slowly, "Hellhounds," she replied. "They're probably all over." She glanced up and over my shoulder towards Dean, who was sneaking towards the same general direction from across the yard of the church and lifted her eyebrows, silently communicating with him from the space between us. I could see he and Sammy nod, and I knew they could smell them too.
My adrenaline and Sammy's blood made staying still and quiet nearly impossible. I could see Dean gesture to Grace in the darkness and she nodded, turning to me and thinking, "He's going around back with Sam. We're supposed to come in through the front and take down as many witches as possible."
"You've got it," I agreed enthusiastically, finally getting a chance to fight. "Count of three."
"One," she thought in reply.
I grinned, "two."
Together, we took a deep breath and jumped into action as we thought, "Three," together.
It was bedlam.
The witches didn't seem to know what hit them. In the four seconds it took to cross the lawn, I had two witches down and bleeding out and Grace held three more in silence, raised off the grass, kicking and pulling at an invisible binding around their necks. They all collapsed in a heap of billowing fabric as my sister dropped them to the ground.
The remaining witches sprang into action, now knowing that we were attacking. Grace walked continually towards them, not missing a step, as they fired spell after spell towards her, throwing anything that wasn't nailed to the ground at us. Each of the tossed objects seemed to hit an invisible barrier and come crashing to the landscape as we continued our assault. Grace wasn't even slowing down.
As we entered the church, the four witches at the doors tried again to utter their incantations, but I silenced them with a single bullet to each of their heads.
At first, I thought it was an echo, but then I realized shots had been fired from the rear of the church as well. Sammy and Dean had followed suit.
We were in the church easier than I thought it would have been and my adrenaline had me practically vibrating in anticipation. I glanced at my sister, who had her eyes closed, listening. From this angle, I could see the glistening of her opalescent wings, at least nine feet into the air above us. They were nearly invisible, and I had a moment long enough to wonder if I could see them at this moment because of Sammy's blood pumping through my veins.
There was a chorus of voices echoing through the chamber of the church. I looked around, unaware of where it was coming from, and changed my footing to be standing back-to-back with my sister. "Where?" I gasped, looking around. I could feel her answer before she had a chance to whisper it. She didn't know either.
It happened all at once.
"Get down!" Dean shouted, rolling away once the debris started flying.
I dove to the nearest pew, squinting my eyes against the onslaught of wood splinters, but Grace remained rooted to her spot. She was untouched by the debris as her shield strengthened, and she turned slowly to get a better view at what seemed to be attacking us. It seemed like the church itself was being blown apart. We could still hear the voices of the remaining witches, but I was clueless as to where they were coming from.
"Above!" Sam shouted, turning to fire into the choir loft at the rear of the narthex. There were about a dozen or so witches, all chanting in one voice, in a language I didn't recognize.
Narrowing my eyes, I focused in on the one face I did.
In the middle, draped in purple velvet, was Sabina Wells, the mousy haired teen that Grace had allowed into our lives from Holden, Maine. The teenager that I didn't trust farther than I could throw her, uphill and against the wind. Sabina Wells, who I promised I would kill if I ever saw her again.
I took a deep breath, steadying my deep-seeded rage into revenge. I would not be made a liar.
The voices continued to chant, louder and louder, over the echo of forty-five caliber bullets tearing through the wood of the surrounding holy place. The witches in the loft seemed untouchable by any of our antics. They were protected by something we couldn't see, a lot like Grace.
"Grace!" I shouted. "Do something about them, will you?"
I turned to glance at my sister, who had her eyes closed and her hands extended with Cas as he joined her in the middle of the room. Crowley was taking his time, delicately laying his overcoat on the back of the pew and rolling up his white shirtsleeves.
"Crowley, I swear to God," I muttered, shaking my head.
Grace turned without opening her eyes and pointed out the back of the church. "She's hidden underground," she muttered quietly, though I had no trouble hearing her. "With Everett."
"We'll take them," Dean shouted, turning towards me with a gun in each hand. "You two go after Everett."
Sammy and I made eye contact and nodded once. "We're on it," I grunted, getting to my feet. Sam was right on my tail as we tore into the night.
…
Dean
I turned towards my wife and took a deep breath as she held her hands out and up at the women in the choir loft. Both she and Cas were muttering things under their breath, and slowly, I could see the fault line they had been creating along the underneath side of the loft. Crowley was busily drawing a detailed sigil on the wooden floor below. Holding both of my guns at my side, I stood up to my full height, waiting patiently for the whole fucking thing to come down.
"We trusted you, Sabina," I growled. "I trusted you with my kids. I trusted you with my wife." I licked my lips and watched her brown eyes open just enough to make eye contact. "I trusted you in my house. What kind of hunter do you think I'd be if I let you live?"
She didn't answer but kept chanting; her voice one of the highest pitched. She was scared. Grace opened her eyes and stared at the girl, barely a teenager, and smiled dangerously. "You fooled me once, little one," she commented, bringing her arms to her sides as the entire loft seemed to shift. "You won't be doing it twice."
Grace clenched her fists and the wood supporting the women splintered under an invisible force. The weight of Grace's power was simply too much for the choir loft and the whole thing began its slow and dramatic decent towards Crowley's enormous sign. Castiel opened his eyes as well, still muttering under his breath, and held up his hands a final time as the women came crashing down to the middle of the sigil; the wood choir loft a pile of kindling beneath them.
Immediately breaking concentration, Sabina made the move to take off running, self-preservation taking over, but Castiel and Crowley's spell held her in place. She leaned up against the side of the invisible barrier, her hands splayed across it as if it was glass as Crowley smiled back at her.
"You learned the witchcraft from Delilah, I take it?" he asked, staring at the women.
Sabina and another, taller witch nodded from behind the barrier.
Leaning towards it, Crowley lowered his voice. "Where do you think she learned it?" he shook his head. "Bloody amateurs."