The steady drum of rain against the roof of St. Michael's Cathedral did little to ease Vance's frayed nerves. He stood near the entrance, his silhouette outlined against the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows. Outside, the streets of New Orleans were slick with rain, the neon haze of Bourbon Street bleeding into the night like an open wound.
Behind him, Cat paced the worn marble floors, her phone clutched tightly in one hand. Elena sat in a pew, curled up, rosary beads rattling in her trembling fingers as she whispered prayers under her breath.
"She's not answering," Cat muttered, frustration lacing her voice. "None of my contacts at the precinct are picking up."
Vance didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the cathedral's towering wooden doors, listening—waiting. The hooded figure from Elena's apartment hadn't followed them here, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were still being watched.
Elena's voice cracked in the heavy silence. "He won't help us, you know."
Vance turned, his brow furrowing. "Who won't?"
Elena's hollow eyes met his. "God."
Cat shot Vance a wary glance. "She's been like this since we left her place. Talking in circles, whispering things that don't make sense."
Vance approached Elena slowly, crouching down so they were eye level. "Elena, I need you to focus. The Choir of Sins—they want you dead. Why?"
Elena clutched the rosary tighter, the beads digging into her fingers. "Because I know," she whispered. "I know what the trumpets mean. What they really mean."
Vance exchanged a glance with Cat before carefully asking, "Tell me."
Elena swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "The trumpets aren't just symbols. They're... they're seals. Each murder is breaking one. When the last trumpet sounds, the Choir believes the final seal will be broken, and Heaven will... fall."
A long silence stretched between them.
Vance ran a hand through his damp hair, processing what she was saying. It sounded insane. But after what he'd seen tonight—the hooded figure, the symbols, the whispering voices—he wasn't sure what to believe anymore.
"You said they're watching you," he said. "Who are 'they'?"
Elena's lips quivered. "The Hollow Men," she murmured. "They don't have faces. They don't have souls. They sing for Him."
Vance felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine.
Before he could press further, a sharp clang echoed through the cathedral, the heavy doors rattling against their hinges.
Cat jumped. "What the hell was that?"
Vance pulled his gun instinctively, motioning for Cat to stay back. He moved toward the doors, the distant sound of footsteps echoing outside. The rain had stopped, but the night was unnervingly silent.
He pressed his ear to the wood, listening.
Nothing.
And then—
A whisper.
Faint. Insidious. Slithering through the cracks of the door.
"Open, and you will see."
Vance staggered back, heart hammering in his chest. He raised his gun and took a deep breath before yanking the door open—
Nothing but darkness. The street was empty, glistening under the flickering streetlights.
He lowered his weapon, exhaling sharply. "Dammit."
Cat's voice called from behind. "Vance, over here."
He turned to find her standing by the altar, staring down at something that hadn't been there before.
A single prayer card, pristine and white, lay on the marble steps. Vance picked it up, flipping it over. Written in elegant cursive was a passage from Revelation:
"And the prayers of the saints, like incense, rose before God. But no answer came."
A chill crept down his spine. "They're inside already."
Cat glanced around, suddenly uneasy. "I thought this place was supposed to be safe."
Vance didn't answer. There was no such thing as safe anymore.
Suddenly, Elena let out a strangled gasp from the pew, her eyes wide with terror. "He's here."
Vance spun toward her. "Who?"
Tears streamed down her face. "Gabriel."
The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Gabriel. The angel he'd seen in his dreams. The terrifying figure who whispered of impending judgment.
"Where?" Vance asked, gripping Elena's shoulders.
She pointed upward.
Vance's eyes followed her trembling finger to the vaulted ceiling, and for a moment, he saw it—a shape in the darkness, wings spread wide, eyes like burning coals staring down.
And then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
A sudden shattering noise erupted from the far end of the church. One of the stained-glass windows exploded inward, shards of colored glass raining down onto the stone floor.
Vance grabbed Elena, pulling her behind him, gun raised. "Cat, get her out of here!"
Cat didn't hesitate, tugging Elena toward the side entrance. Vance followed, covering their escape, his pulse pounding in his ears.
As they ran through the narrow alley behind the church, Vance felt the pressure building—the oppressive weight of something ancient closing in around them.
Elena's ragged breathing was the only sound as they reached his car. He shoved her into the back seat, slammed the door shut, and turned to Cat. "We need to keep moving."
Cat wiped rain from her face. "Where the hell do we go now?"
Vance thought for a moment before muttering, "There's one place left."
Cat gave him a wary look. "You don't mean—"
Vance nodded grimly. "Father Dominic."
Back at St. Mary's Parish, Dominic stood in the candlelit sanctuary, his expression darkening as he listened to Vance's recounting of the night's events.
"The Choir," Dominic said softly, "they're accelerating their plans."
Vance ran a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in. "Elena said the trumpets are breaking seals. That when the last one sounds, heaven falls. What the hell does that mean?"
Dominic's eyes locked onto his. "It means that the Choir believes they are not just calling angels down, Samuel. They think they are... replacing them."
Vance frowned. "Replacing them?"
Dominic leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "They believe they are the new heavenly host. That they will cleanse the world of sin and take their place at God's side."
Vance scoffed, but there was no humor in it. "And what happens to the rest of us?"
Dominic's lips thinned. "We burn."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Suddenly, the church bells tolled—loud, jarring, and out of place in the dead of night.
Vance looked at Dominic. "Tell me that was the wind."
Dominic shook his head slowly. "They know you're here, Samuel."
Vance instinctively reached for his gun, his jaw tightening. "Then let's give them a fight."