Elora slammed the church doors shut as the wind howled outside. Reverend Graves was painting a symbol on the floor with a brush soaked in ash and blood.
"Where is she now?" he asked.
Elora didn't answer she couldn't. All she saw in her mind was Clara's face… and the hundreds of eyes watching her from the dark.
"We're out of time," Graves muttered. "You need to go back."
"Back where?"
He looked up, grim.
"To the house where it started."