The wait is excruciating.

I’ve never been one to sit on the sidelines and watch the battle go by without me. Even when my heart was miles away from the front lines and I felt nothing but the heaviness of my blade chipping away the parts of myself I still recognized, I never thought to ask another to fight in my stead. Yet here I am, watching frozen as Elissa and Grace pick their way through the twisted viper’s nest of spells, holding my breath when they trip a ward or Elissa falters in her casting.

Elissa’s shoulders are stooped, and her pace has slowed to crawl by the time they reach the house, exhaustion written over every inch of her frame. Magic at this level is draining in the best of scenarios, but diffusing spell after spell while remaining on high alert for another attack would be too much for anyone. Even with Grace and Lucifer’s combined powers acting as a battery to sustain her, I can see her strength dwindling. It’s only the force of her will keeping her upright at this point.

And I’m trapped outside the gate, helpless.

Lucifer paces like a caged animal, his eyes never leaving Grace as she follows in Elissa’s footsteps. A whip formed from flames cuts through the air in front of them, and it’s Grace’s quick reflexes that save them this time. Lucifer goes still, wrapping his hands around the broken fence, and I hear the iron creak beneath his grip. I’ve never been one for wanton destruction, but I can see the appeal of ripping something apart right now.

Instead, we watch and wait.

Elissa steps onto the porch alone, leaving Grace waiting at the bottom of the steps. Her back is to us as she faces the sigils, the thick mass of lines and curves pulsating in the air like a living thing.

She’s so drained already that despite all my faith in her abilities I don’t know if she’ll be able to succeed at all, or what the cost might be to her even if she does.

It happens all at once. A sonic boom tears through the air, loud enough that even my ears ring and a few car alarms on the street start blaring. One by one, the blackness of the sigils erupts into white hot flames, spreading from one to the next before winking out of existence altogether.

I expect Elissa to turn around looking triumphant, but she staggers on her feet for a moment before crumpling to the ground.

The barrier holding us back is gone, and Lucifer and I rush inside, picking our way along the cleared path as fast as we dare.

Grace kneels beside Elissa when we arrive, her hands clasping Elissa’s limp fingers, her brow furrowed in concentration as she pushes whatever dregs of strength left between the two of them into Elissa. Her fingers twitch under Grace’s touch and Elissa startles herself awake a few breathless moments later, sitting up quickly enough that she winces as her head swims.

She blinks a few times, scanning the empty porch as she looks for anything else we might have missed before dragging herself to her feet.

“Are you all right?” I ask, unable to hide my concern. She looks spent, as though she’s been awake for days. Deep purple shadows have carved themselves under her eyes, but I know we have no choice but to keep going.

“I’m fine.” We all hear the lie, but Elissa’s already squaring her shoulders and pushing aside fatigue and pain. “I don’t like this,” she mutters. “It’s all too easy.”

“That was easy?” Grace can’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“We’re all alive. No one’s bleeding.” Elissa takes a step closer to the door but hesitates as though waiting for yet another trap to spring. “Way too easy.”

The front door is flanked by two bromeliads, the spiky red blooms looking like a festive version of a medieval weapon. “I take it we’re going in through the front door?” Lucifer asks, “It’s not like your entrance was particularly subtle. We’re not surprising anyone.”

Elissa sighs but nods and Lucifer twists the knob. Unlocked. After all why bother with something as mundane and human as a deadbolt when you have this much power cloaking you?

The door opens silently, revealing the impeccably decorated hallway. A rug in shades of pale green and cream cuts through the dark wood of the spotless floors. An enormous vase of white flowers overflows from the thin console table just inside the door, the heady scents of gardenia and rose wafting from the vase. An ornate chandelier above us casts a bright glow of refracted rainbows from the beads of gold and crystal that dangle down.

“Are you sure we didn’t just break into Martha Stewart’s vacation home?” Grace asks.

Elissa chuckles, but her amusement cuts off quickly when the walking corpses appear.

They emerge from the doorway at the end of the hall, shambling along the plush rug. They’re in varying stages of decay, some with fresh blood still sticky on their skin, others missing eyes or limbs, others already so decayed that their bones creak and rattle with each step.

“Can’t you do something?” Grace backs up slowly, running into Lucifer at the rear of our group.

He steadies her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly but shakes his head. “Their souls are long gone. They’re nothing more than walking meat.”

The closest of the corpses looks like she was a nurse before taking a bullet to the face. Medical scrubs covered in dried gore cling to her greying flesh. Half her cheekbone is missing, her one brown eye remaining gazes vacantly from beneath a mane of stringy brown hair and dried brain matter. She grabs for Elissa, her movements too slow and easily telegraphed to be a real threat.

Elissa jumps back, and Lucifer takes her place, lopping the woman’s head off with his blade before either of us can react. The head thumps to the floor, leaving a streak of decomposing flesh along the immaculate rug.

But the corpse keeps coming.

The headless body continues to stagger forward. Lucifer kicks at her femur, and there’s no missing the brittle crack as the bone snaps. She pitches forward onto the ground but still keeps coming, dragging herself by her hands and pulling the shattered leg behind.

More and more of them pour out of the adjoining doors, the sheer crush of bodies overwhelming in the tight space. I have my own blade in my hands, hacking and slashing blindly. Lucifer is at my back, beating back the creatures that have crept around in an attempt to flank us, and for the briefest instant it’s glorious, the adrenaline of fighting at my brother’s side blocking out the fear.

Elissa and Grace hug the wall, their own weapons at the ready, but none of the creatures even look at them. Instead, they swarm Lucifer and me, forcing us apart.

“Go,” Lucifer yells, gesturing to the staircase.

“Do you honestly think I’m leaving you two to the zombie hordes?” Elissa snaps, jamming her blade into the neck of the remnants of a man wearing a business suit and missing both eyes. Her knife sticks, the blade caught on a collarbone and she kicks him in the chest with one booted foot until he goes down, freeing her knife.

Lucifer is losing ground, the dozen or so corpses surrounding him shove him through an open door into another room. I elbow one in the neck and slice the throat of another, the leathery skin flapping open as its head lolls backwards. My foot crosses the threshold and the heavy oak door slams shut, trapping us both inside.

Etched into the wood of the door are the increasingly familiar lines of the angel weakening sigil.

I tug on the doorknob, already knowing that it won’t work. It’s fastened tight, held shut by magic.

“The Hell with this,” Lucifer snarls, pushing me aside. Lucifer presses his palm against the door, but the expected Hellfire doesn’t come. He kicks the door, but it barely rattles on the hinge.

“Don’t bother,” I lean against the wall, straining to hear anything through the heavy wood and plaster. “The wards were just a decoy. She wants us out of the way, and we played right into it.”