They were seven breathless, terrified people in the dark.
Ray heard the latch fall into place and felt for it making sure. Still holding the dented flashlight, he leaned back, bracing the door and letting it brace him. Among the group he heard crying, gasps for breath, incomprehensible bits of French, a whimper of pain and a whispered prayer. Outside, he heard the somber, blasphemous chanting of the Templar knights.
“She needs to lie down.”
Ray"s flashlight, miraculously operable, stabbed the darkness with a horizontal shaft of light. “Dear me!” Trevelyan howled, trying to cover his eyes with his free hand while still holding up his share of Eve. Ray apologized for blinding the priest, aimed the light up and cast the vestibule, overstuffed as a midtown elevator, in a gray gloom. Trevely
