I freeze momentarily, acutely aware that I want to keep going, but—she won't order them to untie me if she doesn't think I'll obey her, I realize. And I really, really want to be untied. I can sense the feeders all around us, dispersed throughout the soil around the crypt, doing what they do best: eating in the darkness, consuming and corrupting and possessing the material forms that are normally denied to them. Soon, they're going to take possession of their withered husks and go looking for more upmarket digs. I don't want to be tied down and helpless when that happens—

Evidently Iris mistakes my indecision for compliance. She turns to her audience: "The Eater of Souls obeys!" she calls. "The first test!"

She turns back to face me, triumphant and happy. "What would you have me do to hasten the opening of the way?" she asks.

"Untie me." I tug lightly at the ropes. "Untie me." My right arm feels wrong, but so does my left—they both obey me, but feel oddly distant. Blood sugar must be low, I tell myself. Or that wine has a kick to it.

Wrong response. Iris is shaking her head. But she's still smiling. "Not yet," she says. "Not until the rite of binding is complete." Rite of binding? Uh-oh.

"The rite is complete," I tell her, hoping she'll buy it. "The blood and the wine ..."

"I don't think so." She looks at me sharply, and I see something greenish reflected in her eyes. Something behind me? She turns back to her altar before I can work it out, walks towards the front of her congregation. "Bring me the sacrifice pure of heart and soul!" she calls.

Then the true horror show begins.

THEY'RE CULTISTS. WORSE: THEY'RE THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE Black Pharaoh, hated and persecuted wherever they are exposed to the horrified gaze of ordinary people.

Why?