The cavern wasn’t as large as Father Kris expected. Candle-adorned chandeliers swung slowly between glowing stalactites. The chandeliers were made of human skin and ligament; the candles of human earwax.
Father Kris moved forward with his one hundred and forty-four commanders. He raised his hand to halt. This place was too quiet. Suddenly a sound, both like a bovine chewing its cud and a giant swallowing large stones, filled the cavern. Then it started to rain blood. The tips of the stalactites bled, like blood from a needle. It started to pool a mirrored steaming redness. Father Kris ordered holy-water cannons to douse the entire cavern.
As the pools of blood solidified, and the cavern quiet once more, they moved forward. About a quarter mile later, a bright light shown on one wall. It was a ten-story-high opening, lined with massive yellowing teeth.
Gulping down his fear, Father Kris realized they were only in the anteroom; Satan’s coat closet. They would rest here, among burning coal made of bones.