Reapers of the Dark (Cora Roberts #4)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

What did you expect? Skulls, blood sacrifices, and dungeons?

W hen dealing with a group of individuals dedicated to a god of death, ensure you have brought a gift. Not just any gift, the right gift. Luckily, Lucifer had insider knowledge, and that was how I found myself clutching a black bag containing a raven feather quill and an onyx-carved inkwell. Sadly, my uncle vetoed my idea of regifting The Hound’s beating heart, so it remained sitting on my desk, carefully contained in its glitter-covered glass case. I considered trying to stab it, but if Abaddon said it was being kept alive by a god, then I decided it was best to not interfere, particularly as we were about to enter said god’s domain.

The House of Donn was an eighteenth-century stone pillared mini mansion. Runes carefully carved around the doorway hinted at the magic inside, and had either stood the test of time, or were regularly checked and sharpened. Power drenched the entrance, making the hairs on my nape prickle in awareness. Even humans would get a weird vibe and give this place a wide berth.

“I’ll return for you both once you exit the house,” Lucifer declared.

“How will you know?” I wondered.

He shrugged. “Your god is not the only all-knowing being in existence.” With that little gem of knowledge, he disappeared.

Hudson lifted the heavy wooden knocker and sighed. “For the record, I am less than impressed regarding your deal with the Devil.”

“Me too, but what would you have had me do?”

He glanced at me. He looked good. Handsome. Capable. Dangerous. Mine.

“Say no and offer him something else.”

“Like?”

The door swung open, halting the brewing argument.

A being in a floor-length black hooded robe stood before us, their face hidden in shadows, making it impossible for us to discern their features. They stood perfectly still, like a statue.

“Hi, I’m Cora Roberts, and this is my mate, Hudson Abbot. We have an appointment.” I sounded stupid, but I didn’t have time for a silent standoff. My world had tilted on its axis, and I needed to right it before I publicly tied myself to the male beside me. I snapped out my hand and offered them the bag. “A gift.”

No one could fault my manners.

The cloaked figure floated back, ignoring my offering. That wasn’t creepy. Not one bit.

Hudson threaded his fingers with mine and tugged me forward into a circular entrance hall. The warm polished wooden floor was a stark contrast to the clean white walls, while lit candles dotted the fireplace mantle and floor. As far as death sects went, this wasn’t half as bad as I expected.

The figure continued to float backward through an arch and down a corridor. Hudson and I shared a look. Guess we were following them. We stalked forward, side by side in a show of strength. The hallway curved to the left, and the figure sped up, disappearing around the corner. We quickened our pace and encountered shadows darker than a cloud-filled night.

When you’d battled darkness, you no longer feared it. Light couldn’t contain evil or banish evil; it merely illuminated atrocities, making them easier to see. Those brave enough to bare all in the light were terrifying. They were confident in their abilities, assured they would win. Those were the ones to watch.

Hudson stiffened as we sank into the shadows. “Kitty afraid of the dark?”

“That’s not the first time you’ve said that. No, I am not afraid of the dark—only what’s inside it.”

I chuckled. If the House of Donn wanted us dead, they would have already embroiled us in battle. Lucifer had given me a crash course in the group’s history. Unlike other similar organizations, the dwindling members were born into their roles, not recruited, and had the freedom to leave if they so chose. Their numbers had become so insignificant that most people had forgotten they even existed. Their job was to keep the House of Donn alive by supplying it with the souls of the departed. However, despite its affiliation with death, the sect didn’t have a reputation for violence. They were a little morbid perhaps, but it was their god that led their lethal intent, not the members themselves. Effectively, the sect were the people who kept the lights on while their master was away.

Faint light appeared in the distance, morphing into an open doorway the closer we got. “Ready?” I whispered to Hudson. I’d already read him the riot act about keeping his growling to a minimum. He nodded once, and I stepped over the threshold and froze, my mouth falling open.

Gone was the shadowy gothic vibe, and in its place was a room with pale blue and cream themes. An overstuffed U-shaped sofa surrounded a large square wooden coffee table, and a roaring fire made heat wash over my body. In the far corner, a large flat-screen TV played the latest season of a well-known raunchy Regency show.

The only thing out of place was the cloaked figure. They lifted their hands and unbuckled the clasp at their neck. The heavy material fell to the floor, revealing a tiny woman dressed in bright pink capri pants and a white tank. Her blonde bob framed a heart-shaped face with piercing blue eyes.

She grinned at us. “Sorry for the theatrics,” she said in a soft Irish accent. “Got to keep up appearances.”

A door on the opposite side of the room opened, and another six people piled inside, men and women ranging in ages from early twenties to late sixties. Each bore a wide smile as they draped themselves around the room. They dressed in everything from jeans and sweaters to short flirty dresses.

“This is not what I expected,” Hudson muttered.

An older guy, sporting a thick head of silver hair and a matching beard, waved at the space on the sofa opposite him they’d left free for us. “We can get our ceremonial robes if you’d prefer, Daughter of Death?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

I took the offered seat, but Hudson remained standing behind me with a reassuring hand on my shoulder, showing me he had my back. “Cora is fine, and no thank you.”

His gaze lifted to Hudson. “We are honored that the Principal has accompanied you today. Warm greetings to you both.”

Hudson grumbled something behind me I couldn’t make out. Was he speaking a different language?

I tipped my head back and stared up at his smug face. The guy who seemed to be in charge answered in the same choppy language, and both of them chuckled.

Umm, what the fuck was happening? I narrowed my eyes as Hudson’s thumb stroked the side of my neck in reassurance.

“Later,” he mouthed.

I huffed and tore my gaze from his.

The blonde-haired, petite woman bounced onto the sofa next to the old guy. They had the same eyes. “Took you long enough,” she said with a clap. “Can’t believe you are finally here. I’m delira and excira.”

My brow knits. “I got here on your impossible time scale.” The other part of her words I couldn’t understand.

“No, silly. We’ve been calling you for months.”

They definitely hadn’t. I tilted my head. “How?”

“Peach Tree? We sent Caleb to you.”

My mouth dropped open. Damn, my grandmother wasn’t lying when she said everything was connected. We’d been looking at this all wrong, like individual attempts at a hostile takeover, when it was, in fact, a coordinated and consistent attack.

The older guy side-eyed her. “This is Liza, my granddaughter, and she tends to let her mouth run away with her. I’m Cillian, the high priest of the House of Donn. Don’t let the title scare you. Nobody gets sacrificed these days.”

Good to know they had moved with the times.

“Were you responsible for the burned eyes in Peach Tree?” It was something that kept me awake at night, not knowing who or what was the cause.

He nodded. “Yes, but they were already dead. You were supposed to follow the trail to us.”

“A phone call or email would have sufficed,” Hudson said.

Cillian cocked his head. “True, but eyes are the windows to the soul. Do you know how powerful they are?”

“You use the eyes for what? Soup? Spells?” The surrounding folks rumbled with laughter. I shook my head. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

Two more people entered the room with a tray full of cups, saucers, and a steaming teapot. Watercolor flowers decorated the delicate bone china, with no skulls in sight. I was a little disappointed.

Liza bounced back to her feet, reminding me of Maggie as she began pouring the tea into cups.

“Sugar? Milk?”

“Just a little milk for me,” I answered. Not that I would drink tea prepared by a group of people who worshiped a god who was fueling my grandmother’s evil plan. That was just asking for trouble.

“Same,” Hudson answered. He hated tea.

I waited until Liza stopped fussing and settled back on the sofa. “We have a ghost problem in White Castle and think it might be related to your god returning to Earth.” Everyone froze. What did I do? Commit some kind of weird faux pas?

Cillian blinked once, twice. “We normally wait until after tea for in-depth shop talk.”

Called it.

“Apologies. I am on a tight timeline. Ghosts are haunting my town, and I need to figure out the cause.” They would have to put up with the fact I was being rude, because I didn’t have time for pleasantries. However, I could maybe smooth the way. I lifted the black bag and placed it on the coffee table.

“A gift,” I said, hoping Lucifer hadn’t led me wrong. I had added my own inside there.

Cillian grasped the bag and pulled out the long black feather. He smiled, and I breathed a relieved sigh. “Raven feather, and a fine specimen.” He grasped the onyx ink well next and nodded. “Thank you so much, Cora. These will make a fine addition to my desk.”

He frowned at the paper-wrapped parcel at the bottom of the bag and emptied it onto his lap before carefully prying it open.

“Cookies!” Liza exclaimed. “Oh, chocolate chip, my favorite.” She grabbed one and bit into it, trusting they were nothing but yummy treats. I wished I had that kind of faith in the world. She dispersed the cookies among the rest of the members of the sect, each making happy noises. Thank you, Maggie.

“Your ghost problem isn’t specifically anything to do with us,” Cillian answered once he’d decided enough tea had been drunk. “A rise in spirit activity is to be expected with Donn’s return.” They all made some kind of ceremonial sign over their hearts as he said his name.

“I understand that, but you aren’t responsible for the concentration of remnants?”

Cillian grimaced. “Remnants? Goodness, no. Nasty creatures. We deal with the wandering souls, not the lesser soul left behind.”

“But those are the ones responsible for things like poltergeist activity, right?” I checked.

Cillian nodded. “That’s correct. From what I understand, Eloise is using her newfound power to fuel an uprising and cause panic. But as to your hometown’s specific problem, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Which left us with the final terrifying conclusion. They were gathering to witness a visit.

“You’re being awfully candid when you serve the being responsible for this crisis,” Hudson remarked. I agreed. They weren’t even pretending to be in the dark.

Cillian spread his hands apart. “Our place is not to question Donn’s decisions, only to be the intermediary communicating his wishes.”

“And his wish is to have the world in chaos?”

Liza snorted. “Donn couldn’t give a shit about humans.”

Cillian glared at her. Okay, so there were some things they would rather not share. Liza was the weakest link, and I needed to remember that.

“My granddaughter is mistaken. Donn might not have been present for a long time, but that has nothing to do with a lack of concern. He is simply indifferent to the squabbles of mankind. If a god got involved every time someone did something utterly stupid, we’d be overrun with deities, and no one wants that. You can feel the effects just one of them returning is having.”

“So why make a deal with Eloise at all?” I wondered.

Cillian shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”

I suppressed the shudder. No, thank you.

“However, we are willing to back you in a fight against Eloise,” Cillian said.

Everyone stilled. Cookie crumbs were forgotten, the last bits of tea left to dissipate their heat.

“Forgive me, Cillian,” I said carefully. “But you serve a god that is the source of my problems. Why on earth would you reverse course? Isn’t that working against him?” Something wasn’t right. I was being manipulated, and I didn’t like it.

“Gods can change their minds,” Cillian said carefully. “The deal with Eloise is unbreakable, but if I had to guess, he wasn’t aware of what she was going to do. She’s protected, invincible to most power right now, but it won’t last forever.”

Donn made a poor business decision? I wasn’t buying it. But accusing these people of misleading us wouldn’t result in them continuing to be so pleasant and candid.

“For what price?” Hudson asked. Good question.

Cillian’s icy blue gaze narrowed. “A vial of your blood.”

I jerked back. “Why?”

“Angel blood is a precious commodity.”

So they knew what I was? “I’m not an angel.”

“Half angel is still very powerful, especially since your father is an archangel.”

“What for?” I asked.

Cillian smiled. “Nothing that would hurt anyone.”

“That’s a broad statement, with the potential for numerous loopholes.”

“We don’t mean you any harm, Cora,” Liza declared.

I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. “What kind of backing are we talking about?”

“Cora,” Hudson snapped.

Indigo raised her head and peered at the people before us. Each and every one of them recoiled. For a sect that worshiped death, they sure were twitchy around me.

“Let them take it,” Indigo purred. “Lesser beings can’t harness the power within it, no matter what their plans are.”

Good to know. I guess.

Hudson was silent after having heard her statement.

Cillian pressed his lips together and frowned. “In a war, we will fight beside you, with you.”

“You are what, ten people? How is that helpful? What power do you hold?” I asked.

Cillian nodded and rose. “Follow me.”

I glanced at Hudson, and we both strode after their leader through the door. We descended a steep spiral metal staircase, deeper and deeper into the earth. A few others followed behind us.

When the stairs ended, we found ourselves inside a chilly antechamber, lit with fire torches attached to the walls. Now this was more like what I had expected.

He flung open the door, and we followed. Hudson swore, and I froze as at least a thousand pairs of eyes turned to watch us from the hundreds of church pews.

“Give me a vial of your blood, and I’ll give you an army,” Cillian declared.