At the far end of the room was an altar, desecrated not only by candles and what Alex could only assume was random spooky cultist ritual junk but also by the spread-eagled, dark-haired woman. The chains were still on her arms, both of them wrapped around the legs of the altar, while apparently sheets or tablecloths had been wrapped around her ankles, tied off to the other altar legs to keep hers apart.
The priest stood before her, removing his cassock. The others stood by, with the blonde, still hanging from chains, shouting at the priest about how wrong all of this was.
"Harold, shut her up. Troy, hold the cup for a moment," he said. The whip-wielder stepped back behind the blonde, yanking her hair back hard, while the priest cast aside his cassock and undid his belt buckle.
Alex couldn't think of a better moment to ambush three guys than when their backs were turned and one had just dropped his pants.
"I'll see you burn, you fucking bastard!" the woman on the altar shouted at the priest.
"Don't do this, you fools!!" the blonde screamed.
Under this distraction, Alex quickly covered the few feet between his hiding spot and Harold. With the fire-poker coiled up to strike from behind his shoulder, he brought it down across the back of Harold's head in a vicious arc with all the torque he could muster. The curved head of the poker struck squarely across Harold's skull, leaving him reeling and falling to the floor. The blonde's scream ended in sharp surprise as she looked up. Alex pulled the spray canister out of his pocket and kept going.
"The blood anoints your master! It protects from your lies and your curses! Your master's pleasure is your pleasure! You shall loyally and faithfully serve and protect the anointed one!" The priest reached off to the side for the cup -- but Troy, looking backward at the curious sound, faltered.
"Boss!" he yelled, just before getting a face full of pepper spray. Reflexively, he lashed out with the only thing in his hand. The cup of blood splashed across Alex's face and torso, bonking him on the cheek without really hurting him. Troy went down on the floor screaming.
The priest whirled around, then stumbled with his pants still around his ankles. Alex narrowly missed him with the second blast of spray. It was close enough to make him choke, though. The priest he fell backwards, bumping into the altar and then hitting the ground. Alex pressed on, kicking him hard in the genitals and then stomping on his side when the fallen man lurched forward reflexively.
Another attempt with the pepper spray showed it was empty already. He dropped it on the floor, heaved back with the fire poker and swung it down on the priest's head. It was an awkward strike, getting more shoulder and neck than head. Alex wiped some of the spilled blood from his eyes and wound up for another strike.
That was when Harold came barreling into him from the side. "Kill ya, you little fuck!" he growled, pushing Alex's head down onto the altar and groping for his neck. Alex groped too, fumbling around for a way to hurt the man, and finally found the thug's crotch and grabbed as hard and viciously as he could. Harold roared in pain, stumbling back a step and giving Alex the chance to shove him off.
Alex hit Harold again with the fire poker, this time squarely in the base of the skull, which sent the older man staggering to the ground.
"I can't see!" Troy wailed, blindly crawling away from the action.
"Free me!" both women yelled. "No, me first!" they both yelled again when they realized they had spoken simultaneously.
"Not her, me!"
"Stop!" the priest groaned, trying to get up. "Don't know what you're... doing..."
Not stopping to say anything witty, Alex swung his foot up into the priest's forehead, knocking him back onto the floor again. He looked quickly at the blonde and her chains; her shackles were attached by chains to hooks in the ceiling, with too little slack for her feet to even touch the floor. The dark-haired woman on the altar was tied by cloth around her feet, and the chains around her arms were simply circled around the far legs of the altar itself. She struggled to keep her head up to see, allowing Alex to see her wounds -- two round gouges in the skin of her forehead, each slightly below the scalp not far out of line from her eyes. Her face was stained with blood and bruises.
Alex's eyes flared in shock at how badly the women were hurt. He looked at the manacles of the one on the altar; the fasteners didn't look locked, and so he tried to unlatch the one on her left wrist. Naturally, it was tough to budge.
"Hurry," the captive urged. "I can help you if I can just get... free..."
With one wrist finally freed, Alex looked up to check on the men. Troy was almost to his feet, blindly, as was Harold. Not wanting to let them regroup, Alex shoved Troy into Harold. The two crashed to the ground through the big pile of ashes near the hallway.
"No!" Alex heard the priest gasp.
"Yesss!" the woman on the altar hissed, pulling herself part-way up now that one arm was freed. She looked at the horrified priest with an odd mix of triumph and rage. It was as if time had stopped for just that moment. Realization and fear washed over the priest's face.
The woman on the altar inhaled deeply and then bellowed a long stream of flame at the priest. He shrieked, engulfed almost completely, and his burning form flailed about in panic.
"Holy shit!" Alex blurted. The woman began to laugh viciously. Alex looked at the blonde, who caught his gaze with her own pleading eyes.
"Get me down," she said. "She -- we won't hurt you, but you have to free us both, now!"
Alex didn't think twice. He wrapped one arm around the blonde's waist, heaving her up a bit to give the chains some slack and then unlatched the manacles around her wrists. It was clumsy and it took a few tries. By then the priest had crashed into a far wall, knocking candles and bookshelves over onto the floor with a crash. The place was going to catch on fire.
"I only need a moment," the blonde said, gasping and slumping in Alex's arms. "Leave me. Get her off the altar."
Alex obeyed, allowing the blonde to sink to the floor while he rushed over to the other woman and worked on the knots around her ankles. The heat and smell from the burning priest, now surely dead, were overwhelming, but Alex pushed past his fear and forced himself to get the job done.
"My hand, mort...mas...no," the woman groaned. Apparently breathing fire had taken every bit of strength she had left in her, because she couldn't twist enough to reach her chained wrist with her freed hand. Alex reached over her naked chest and fought to unlatch the iron around her wrists.
"I'll get you out, you're gonna be okay, we're gonna be okay" Alex said in a rush. He was trying to convince himself as much as her. With her hand freed, he pulled her upright, holding her to him and moving away from the altar, and turned straight around to see Troy and Harold on their feet, staggered but recovered enough to fight. "Oh, shit," Alex said, seeing the bloody, wavy dagger in Troy's hand.
"You have done your part, mortal," the blonde said, rising to step out of the pentagram beneath her and holding out one arm to the ceiling. A long sheet of flame extended from her palm, and as she lowered it to her side it formed a sword of flame.
Alex, Harold and Troy all had a moment to be stunned.
The woman in Alex's arms just grunted. "Showoff," she muttered.
"This desecration of the Lord's house will not stand," the blonde said gravely, and she swung her sword wide, cutting through both Harold and Troy and igniting their bodies as if they were dressed in flash paper.
"Jesus Christ!" Alex blurted.
"Don't blaspheme," the blonde replied absently, looking around the room. "My strength returns. Take her and get out."
"Right," Alex said, not wanting to argue with the woman with the flaming sword. Alex hauled the dark- haired woman out to the foyer, having just enough presence of mind to grab his backpack where he'd left it before heading out into the night. Behind him, he heard the screams of burning men and the roar of an inferno coming to life.