Finally, it was in.

Vera worked to hide her unsteady hands as she clasped the hard hat filled with shards of a crystal chalice that once poisoned its followers in Chicago, all in service to a demon. The biting chemical scent of a gas leak rose from the hat, melding the sins of Roaring Creek with the sins of the past.

An endless inferno of black gleamed in the beast’s eyes as it snarled at the objects, lips peeled back from its pointed teeth.

“It’s time,” it rasped, tongue unfurling against the rotted skin of its chin, eyes wild with hate.

Then she heard the crowd of voices soaring outside the windows, encasing the house. Gauzy lace curtains blew in the dining room, exposing a mob of wide-eyed strangers bedecked in yellow hats droning as one. The rally had moved. The cult was here.

Aunt Tilda rushed inside, Bible clutched like a shield, but its protection useless. The beast’s entry gave it power. Vera could feel it consuming their energy, drawing from the demonic evil trapped inside the basement, trying to absorb it, obliterate it. Obliterate them.

Father Chuck rushed beside them, a cross in his hand. The beast laughed.

“Let us be done with this endless agony. Life will never bring you peace,” the monster growled, arms wide as its mangled toes lifted from the floorboards.

It was floating! Dear God, it was levitating. Max’s mother’s body rose from the ground, her feet, its feet, hovering inches from the gritty hardwood. Its arms lifted with the grace of a swan, white nightgown fluttering in a breeze that now blew inside the house. Its pocked face oozed and pointed toward the heavens. No, the skies. Heaven wasn’t here right now.

“You’re all dying. You have been since you were spat onto this Earth. Why continue to suffer? Rush to me. Now! Now! Now! My children, the time is now!” it bellowed.

Crimson blots blistered before Vera’s eyes as its rhythmic words rang in her head.

The cries from the crowd outside gathered in force.

“The human constructs of this inhumane world brought about your pain. It is time to shed the limitations of the flesh.”

A baby screeched, an ear-piercing shriek, and the beast broke into a feral grin.

Acid burned up Vera’s throat.

“Step over with me, my children. Find our new beginning! Now! We must go now!”

Its words sank in as she floated up.

A wind blasted through the kitchen, a warm wind, a summer wind.

Wings. Were those wings? Vera swore she could feel the tickles of feathers on her skin as white light filled the room. She stared at this figure, this beast, in a ruffled ivory nightgown, transfixed, wondering if Max’s mother wore it often. Was it her favorite? The gown clung so perfectly to her hips, her chest. Vera never slept in anything so dainty, so feminine.

And now she had wings!

“Rip your souls free! Do not delay. Go, go, go!” it called.