That was a very good question. I planted my hands on my hips and allowed my gaze to bounce from face to face. The gathered individuals seemed to have no single trait that tied them together. The assemblage made up a virtual ethnic rainbow. Ages varied too. If I had to guess, there were people as young as twenty in the group, maybe even younger. There were also a number of septuagenarians.
“Are you here to talk to the dead?” a young blonde popped up in front of me. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, wore simple black pants and a plain T-shirt, and appeared ecstatic.
“The dead?” I was confused. “Are you holding a séance or something?”
She snorted, as if I’d asked the funniest question in the world, and shook her head. “No. We’re here to communicate with the dead. They live on this island.”
The woman seemed sure of herself, as if she had the inside information all religious zealots believed they alone held. Her reaction made me uneasy. “Um ... is there someone in charge here?”
“I was just about to ask you the same question,” the blonde replied. “Is there someone in charge here? We need access to the building behind you.”
I took a second to glance over my shoulder and focus on the aquarium. “I see.”
“Maybe we should call my father,” Braden suggested, his voice low. He wasn’t one to immediately jump to the conclusion that he needed his daddy to bail him out — in fact, he was the opposite — but he seemed as uneasy as I felt. His father was a higher-up on the Reaper Council, and technically my boss, so it seemed to make sense to call him.
But because I was me, I wasn’t quite there yet.
“Who’s in charge here?” I asked, opting to ignore her demand and raising my voice. Nobody stood out as large and in charge, but someone had to be leading the group. There was no way they just happened to congregate on my island.
“That would be me,” a voice announced to my left, causing me to snap my head in that direction. There stood a man who screamed “power,” although in a corporate way rather than a magical one. At least that’s what I assumed.
He was tall — a good two inches taller than Braden, who crowded the six-foot mark — and he wore sharply creased khaki pants and a button-down shirt. His hair was a dark chestnut and his eyes an odd green that made the rest of his features pop. His cheekbones were chiseled and he boasted a pair of powerful shoulders.
In truth, he was a handsome specimen of a man. But he was invading my territory and I didn’t like that one bit.
“May I ask what you’re doing here?” I folded my arms over my chest and adopted my best “I’m the boss and you have to announce your intentions whether you like it or not” face.
Rather than tremble in the face of my obvious authority, the man snickered. “We’re here to commune with the dead. May I ask what you’re doing here?”
His response was so matter-of-fact I faltered. “Commune with the dead?” Even as I asked the question, my brain did a dance of dread. When he mentioned communing with the dead, my mind immediately went to the gate. It could be argued that the gate signified a way to communicate with those who had passed on. However, the gate was a secret — even many who worked with the reapers had no idea it existed — and it seemed impossible that this man could know of the its existence.
“There’s a door here,” the man replied, his gaze moving back to his followers as he watched them march in a circle, hands raised to the sky. “We’re here to find that door.”
A door? Could he possibly be referring to the gate? There was no way I could come out and ask him directly. That would serve as confirmation of his supposition — and that was the last thing I wanted.
“Okay, well, I think we should start over.” I forced a placating smile. It was meant to reflect disbelief and pity, as if I suspected there was some form of mental illness at play. Even as I adopted the most likely persona to fit this scenario, my heart raced. “What is your name?”
The man’s smile never faltered. He seemed amused rather than insulted by my reaction. “Titus Weaver.” He extended his hand in my direction. “I’m president of The Hidden Fellowship.”
He delivered the last line as if explaining something. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what that is.”
“The Hidden Fellowship,” he repeated, unruffled. “We believe the line between life and death is only in our minds. Haven’t you ever considered the fact that most people follow rules because they fear what comes after death? Those are the only ramifications that matter.”
I was back to being lost. “What?”
“He’s talking about religion,” Paris volunteered. She’d appeared behind us without me noticing and she seemed entranced — or perhaps terrified — by our visitors. “He’s saying that religion, fear of punishment for eternity, is what keeps people in line.”
Titus nodded appreciatively as he lifted his chin and regarded Paris. “Exactly!” He beamed at her. “What is your name, sister? I can’t help but think you should be one of us.”
That was interesting. Titus’s reaction to Paris was completely different to his reaction to me. He seemed disinterested when I addressed him, as if he was just going through the motions when answering me. But legitimate curiosity reflected from the depths of his eyes as he regarded Paris.
“Yeah, I don’t think I would fit in with your group,” Paris hedged, clearly uncomfortable as she looked around to avoid his gaze.
“That’s not true.” Titus was calm, his eyes gleaming. “You’re a true believer. We recognize our own when we see them.”
“Oh, yeah?” Paris’s voice was shriller than normal. I sensed there was something rippling beneath the surface — panic, hatred, desire — and I was determined to figure out what had gotten my new aide so worked up. “What makes you say that?”
“Because your aura is that of someone who wants to absorb knowledge,” Titus replied. “You’re a curious soul. You want to nurture knowledge and you’re not likely to believe something simply because the masses tell you it’s true.”
“I would agree with that,” Paris replied. “The thing is I also recognize what you are. I get what you’re doing here. This isn’t the first time I’ve come across people like you.”
Titus’s smile never wavered. “People like us? I don’t follow.”
“You’re a cult.” Paris practically spat the words, taking me by surprise. The word wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t believe she’d gone there so quickly — and with such vehemence. “You’re trying to control these people, point them toward what they believe is a common goal, and then you’re going to sacrifice them to get what you want.”
For the first time since we’d crossed paths with him, Titus appeared agitated. His jaw tightened and a vein throbbed in his forehead. Almost as fast as the reaction took him over, he calmed his features. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was smooth. “We’re here because we seek enlightenment. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.” Paris didn’t look convinced as she turned to me. “You should call for backup right now. Don’t deal with him alone. Believe me, that’s the last thing you want.”
She sounded so sure of herself that I hesitated only a moment before turning my eyes to Braden. “Call your father. This is above our pay grade.”
He looked relieved at the order as he dug for his phone. “Dad will know what to do.”
“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU EXPECT ME to do here.”
Cormack Grimlock’s expression was blank as he stood on the sidewalk in front of the aquarium surveying the circling strangers with suspicion. “Is that guy wearing a dress?”
I followed his finger and shook my head. “It’s a ceremonial robe. Does that matter?”
“In Dad’s world proper attire is the biggest concern,” Braden drawled, seemingly amused. “I don’t think the robe matters but obviously Dad does. We should just go with it.”
Cormack shot his son a withering look. “I don’t care if it is a dress. I’m simply asking because there’
s a symbol on the back of it. I wanted to see if there was a clue there as to the true motivations of these people.”
I perked up at the suggestion and craned my neck, frowning when I recognized the symbol. “That’s a Chinese symbol,” I offered.
“It is?” Braden appeared intrigued. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know what it means, but it’s the same symbol on the window of that Chinese place on the other side of the bridge,” I replied. “You know, the one that has the egg rolls you like? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that robe is part of the uniform for the wait staff.”
“Oh, you’re right.” The excitement vacated Braden’s eyes just as fast as it had appeared. “That’s kind of a bummer, huh? But now I kind of want an egg roll. We should totally go there for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, no.” Cormack immediately started shaking his head. “Your grandparents arrive tonight. In fact, they’re probably landing right now. and you’re all expected at the house for dinner this evening. No exceptions.”
Braden made a face. “Why do we have to put up with your parents? I mean ... I get that you’re our responsibility. When you start acting out of sorts and need to be locked up in a home later in life, I’ll make sure you have a really hot nurse.”
“Oh, geez.” Cormack slapped his hand to his forehead.
“You’re welcome, big guy.” Braden clapped his hand on his father’s shoulder and winked at me. “Seriously, though, why do we have to eat with them? They won’t be pleasant.”
“They won’t,” Cormack agreed without hesitation. “They’ll be downright unpleasant. They’re making an effort, though. We must do the same.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” Cormack was stern as he pinned Braden with a look. “You’re coming — and you’re bringing Izzy with you.” He tilted his head toward me, putting me on the spot.
“What if I’m here dealing with this?” I challenged. Until twenty minutes ago, I’d been looking forward to meeting the Grimlock grandparents. Now I wasn’t so sure. I wanted the option to duck out if I could manage it.
“There’s nothing to deal with.” Cormack’s response was bland. “We can’t remove them from the island completely because it’s public land. We can push them out of the parking lot and keep them from entering the aquarium, but that’s about it.”
I was dumbfounded. “So we’re just going to let them camp out here and talk about the door between life and death?” I asked, the last part a little louder than I’d intended. Cormack glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was eavesdropping before speaking again.
“We can’t react in an over-the-top manner.” He looked resigned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re not technically doing anything wrong. And they’re definitely not doing anything against the law. If we try to force them from the island they could go straight to the television stations.”
“So what?” Braden shrugged. “What if they do?”
I heaved a sigh. I understood what worried Cormack. “If they go to the news stations and garner attention, then every conspiracy theorist in the area will head out here convinced we’re actually hiding something.”
“Which we are,” Cormack pointed out, straightening his shoulders as he watched the newcomers interact. “We need to find out whatever information we can about this cult before we do anything.”
“I can put Paris on it,” I offered. “Although ... where did Paris even go?”
“She took off right after I called Dad,” Braden volunteered. “She seemed agitated. I’m not sure why. As far as cults go, this one seems relatively peaceful. It’s not as if they’re passing around the Kool-Aid or anything.”
Cormack shot his son a look. “You have a sympathetic heart, son.” He rolled his eyes. “As for putting Paris on the research, that’s a good idea. Other than that, we just have to ignore them. If they go a few days without getting what they want they’ll lose interest and move on. That’s the end goal here.”
It was a reasonable assessment, but I couldn’t shake the ripple of dread moving up my spine. He made it sound so easy.
Three
Braden had to report for an afternoon shift. He tried unsuccessfully to bribe three different siblings over the phone to take it for him, leaving just Oliver, Paris, and me in the gate room for most of the afternoon. Even though I loved Braden and his boundless enthusiasm and nonstop romantic overtures, I embraced the quiet.
That is until Paris started reporting some of what she’d learned about the group in the parking lot.
“There’s not much about them,” she said as she typed on her keyboard. “I can only find shadow references on various message boards. They don’t have an official website.”
“Do cults have official websites?” Oliver asked, his forehead crinkled.
“You’d be surprised. The White Custodians, for example, have a website that espouses their preference to wipe out anyone with a dollop of color in their DNA. They put it right out there for anyone to read. They want to force tests to identify those they consider enemies.”
I was horrified at the prospect. “They do realize that we all have color in our DNA, right? I mean ... technically we all sprang from the same area.”
“I don’t believe they follow scientific journals,” she replied dryly. “It doesn’t matter. They have, like, three hundred members and a moron for a leader. He actually changed his name to Caucasian White, which is why the group has the name it does.”
“Caucasian?” Oliver shook his head. “Whenever I think humans can’t get any dumber, they prove me wrong. How do you even cope with stupidity on that level?”
“I find it more troubling that The Hidden Fellowship doesn’t have an online presence yet they managed to amass as many participants as they have,” Paris admitted. “That’s a sizeable crowd out there.”
Other things bothered me about the gathering. “I want to know how they even heard about the gate. That’s supposed to be the best-kept secret ever, right?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Oliver reassured me, lightly patting my shoulder. It was as if he could sense my genuine unease. I wondered if that was a vampire thing or simply the fact that he was overly perceptive given our relationship from my childhood. “There are many ways they could’ve found out.”
“Really?” I turned my full attention to him. “Can you give me a list of those ways?”
He nodded. “For starters, there’s no rule that reapers have to serve for life. From what you told me about your conversation with this Titus Weaver fellow outside, he’s referring to the gate as a door. It sounds to me as if he got a little information and extrapolated. It’s possible a reaper who never saw the gate but had minimal knowledge left the fold and flapped his gums.”
I hadn’t considered that. “Wouldn’t any reapers who joined the team have to sign a non-disclosure agreement?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t take into account drunken ramblings or the ravings of a madman. Even if the former reaper in question seemed completely cognizant and on the level, it’s not as if he or she would be able to disseminate much information about the gate.”
“I guess.” Oliver’s words made sense, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. “I know Cormack said that we would draw more attention to ourselves by trying to oust them than simply allowing them to spout nonsense for a few days and then lose interest on their own, but I’m worried.”
Oliver shook his head. “I think that’s your perpetual state. You like to work yourself up over the inconsequential. What’s happening in that lot has little bearing on us.”
“Oh? What if they somehow manage to pique the interest of the media? What happens then?”
“Then ninety-nine percent of the tri-county area watches the evening news with smiles on their faces. They’ll think it’s a bunch of kooks and charlatans. That would be the preferred outcome. If it hits the local news, everyone will laugh.”
“Do you think so?” His t
one made me hopeful. “It’s my job to make sure this doesn’t get out of hand. I feel as if I should be more proactive.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Oliver stressed. “You have Paris conducting research. They’re not doing anything but walking in circles up there. Things could be worse.”
He believed it, so I merely nodded. I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should get going. Cormack issued an edict that we’re all supposed to be at Grimlock Manor in thirty minutes to prepare for the arrival of the grandparents. They’re all freaking out about this. I don’t get it.”
“That’s because you have a grandfather you love, one who raised you without judging,” Paris noted. “I had a grandmother like that on my mother’s side. My father’s mother was a different story. She was a religious fanatic who hated witches. That didn’t go over well in my family. She was always nitpicking whenever she saw me. I understand why the Grimlocks are so worked up.”
“If these grandparents are so terrible, why even entertain them?” I was adamant. “I would just cut them out of my life and never see them again.”
“It’s not always that easy with family,” Oliver countered. “Not everyone can be as pragmatic as you suggest.”
“If you say so.” I shook my head. “Keep researching the cult. See if you can find anything on them, Paris. I need to get going. We’ll touch base tomorrow.”
She absently nodded, her attention back on the computer monitor. “Will do.”
“As for you ... .” I focused on Oliver, unsure of what to say. “Keep your ear to the ground,” I said finally. “You live on this island, the same as me. If these people start causing problems after dark I want to know about it.”
He absently nodded, his attention on the intake sheet that was coming through. “Absolutely. Just because I think they’re harmless doesn’t mean I’ll overlook potential problems. I’m not an idiot.”
“No, you’re definitely not.” I smiled at him and then impulsively leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked, surprised.
Only the Devout Page 3