Only the Devout

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You didn’t say to call you back. You just babbled ... on and on. You talked for two minutes per message and hung up. You never said to call you back.”

  I frowned. “I think that was implied.”

  “Well, next time you might want to state it out loud.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Other than the blotchy skin and red eyes, you look pretty good. I guess you haven’t been eaten by any monsters yet.”

  “It’s not for lack of trying.”

  His eyebrows hopped. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

  “Probably not.” Just hearing his voice settled me. “It doesn’t matter. I just ... really missed you.”

  “Of course you have. I’m awesome.” He grinned as he shook his head. “Tell me about these people. The man who just called, how do you know him?”

  “He’s a member of the reaper council. He’s pretty high up. His son, Braden, um ... .”

  “You’re together.” Grandfather nodded. “I figured that out on my own. There’s no reason to go into the gruesome details.”

  It was something he started saying not long after I began dating in high school, and it never failed to make me laugh. “I think you might like him.”

  “Yeah? Do you plan to bring him down here for a visit?”

  “Eventually. I don’t really have any time off right now, because I just started. I thought maybe you could come up here for a visit.”

  He looked uncomfortable with the suggestion — as I expected — and shifted uneasily. “Maybe. I don’t know. I have a lot to do around here.”

  “I know, but you wouldn’t have to pay to stay anywhere. The Grimlocks have a huge house. It’s like a castle. I haven’t asked Cormack, but I guarantee he’ll be okay with you staying here. I’m here more than half the time anyway at night, so ... .” I stopped speaking when I realized what I’d unintentionally revealed.

  “Yeah, let’s not go there.” He flashed a terse smile. “Nobody wants another argument. Tell me what has you so worked up. Obviously something is going on.”

  I wasn’t sure how much I was going to tell him until all of it came tumbling out of my mouth. I didn’t mention the revenants — that was bound to cause another fight — and focused solely on the cult. When I was finished, he was flabbergasted.

  “And nobody is doing anything?”

  I shrugged. “What do you expect them to do? Nobody has really broken any laws.”

  “There’s a dead girl.”

  “We don’t know for certain who killed her.”

  “What about that boy you found? Surely he can point fingers.”

  “He’s a street kid. Well, street adult. He sells drugs for a living as far as I can tell. He has no intention of tattling on the cult members. I’m much more worried that he’s going to show up out there one day with a gang of people and get his revenge through other means.”

  “You’re probably right. We both know the street mentality. It’s kill or be killed.”

  “Plus, he genuinely seemed to love this girl. I’m no expert, but he looked traumatized about losing her. Even if he could tell us what happened — something he’s being really tight-lipped about — that doesn’t change the fact that we need proof, not hearsay.”

  “And what about this other cult member?” he asked. “Are you going to force Maxine to bring her in for you?”

  I waited a moment, uncertain. My grandfather’s relationship with my aunt was strained. They both wanted me after the death of my parents. My grandfather won. He didn’t keep Maxine out of my life. He did, however, insist all visits take place in New Orleans. He refused to let me return to Detroit. In hindsight, that might’ve been wise.

  “Olive will be working tomorrow, so I’ll probably stop in,” I said. “I have no proof she’s involved in this. All I know is that she was with a cult that got wiped out by a magical woman. She now works for Aunt Max.”

  “What sort of magical woman? Bruja? Witch? Something else?”

  “I think she’s something else.”

  “You haven’t asked?”

  “It’s a sticky situation — and she’s not involved in this. In fact, she’s completely removed. The only reason we even talked to them was because of the tenuous cult tie.”

  Grandfather kept talking as if he hadn’t heard a word I said. “I bet she’s some sort of exotic paranormal. Like maybe she’s a lamia. I’ve heard they’re still around. Rare, though.”

  I thought of Raven, the circus lamia I’d met a few weeks ago. “I don’t think she’s a lamia. I do have a story to tell you about that when we have more time. It really doesn’t matter right this second. I need to focus on the cult.”

  “So focus on the cult. You don’t need my advice to do that. You already know the smart move.”

  “Yeah, but ... it feels as if I keep running into walls. For some reason, I lose my head when I’m around them. They frustrate me to no end. Aunt Max has suggested it’s because I inherited your dislike of organized religion, but it feels more serious than that.”

  He pursed his lips, considering. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she’s right. Maybe your inherited biases are coloring things. Is it possible this cult had absolutely nothing to do with the dead girl? Maybe the drug dealer killed her and he’s an excellent actor.”

  “Maybe.” That didn’t sound right. “That doesn’t explain the guy who cut his own throat rather than being questioned. It also doesn’t explain the blondes who keep showing up. Why pay them unless something nefarious is planned for them?”

  “It could be that they think blondes will draw more attention. There are some people who believe blondes are more striking. There’s a saying, right? Blondes do it better ... or have more fun ... or something like that. I prefer brunettes, but that’s just me.”

  “And it’s not important,” I pointed out, though I couldn’t hide my grin. “I feel as if I’m missing something.”

  “Then go back to the beginning.” Grandfather adopted his most reasonable voice. “That tall fellow who called me is right. You’re one of the brightest people I know, Izzy. You always have been. You can figure this out.

  “Retrace your steps,” he continued. “Look at every piece of the puzzle in chronological order. If that doesn’t work, break the pieces apart and attack from a different direction. I have faith you can do this.”

  He sounded so sure of himself. “And what if I can’t?”

  “I don’t believe there’s anything you can’t do if you set your mind to it. You are ... amazing. You always have been. You’ll figure this out. You need to stop beating yourself up and open your mind to new possibilities.”

  It couldn’t be as easy as he made it sound. Still, I was so glad to talk with him, I nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

  “Good.” He held my gaze a bit. “It’s early and I don’t have to be anywhere for an hour, so let’s catch up on things. Tell me about this family. And pay special attention to this Braden. I want to know everything about them, especially if I’m going to try to find a way to visit.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry for hurting you, Izzy. I was trying to protect you. I know I went about it the wrong way, but I can’t help but want to take care of you. You’re all I have.”

  “We’ll always have each other.” I was firm. “As for the Grimlocks, I don’t even know where to start. They’re a bit loud ... and snarky ... and they play really weird games. Are you sure you want to hear about this?”

  “I want to hear everything,” he insisted, getting comfortable in his chair. “Lay it on me.”

  Twenty-Four

  I was practically floating by the time Braden showed up and I coasted into his arms for a hug.

  “I missed you today.”

  He wasn’t alone. Aidan was with him, the youngest Grimlock male looking amused as his brother tipped up my chin to study my face.

  “Have you been crying?” Braden’s
tone was accusatory. “Was it Mary and Emmet? Where are they?”

  I laughed at his response, genuinely amused. “I haven’t even seen them. Your father says they’re having tea in the south parlor. I didn’t even know you had a south parlor.”

  “We have, like, eight parlors, and we don’t know their proper names,” Aidan replied. “I think they’re in that hoity-toity one with all the flowers.”

  “Ah, yes, the vagina room,” Braden said, nodding. “That would make sense.”

  I almost choked. “The vagina room?”

  “They’re flowers that look like vaginas.” Braden turned defensive at my incredulous face. “We didn’t name it that. Aisling did when she was eleven. She was trying to talk my father into letting her shave her legs for the first time — something he was dead set against — and she said if she were a boy he would let her.

  “He denied that, said that he wouldn’t trust any of his children with a razor before the age of thirteen, but she melted down,” he continued. “She said that living with a vagina in this house was insufferable. He didn’t even realize she knew the meaning of the word. They went round and round.

  “Aisling went to go pout. He found her in that parlor and tried to talk to her. She was still irate, so she started pointing out all the vaginas in the room. It was a whole big thing.”

  I couldn’t contain my laughter at the visual he painted. I loved hearing stories about when the Grimlocks were younger. “What did your father do?”

  “He threatened to lock her in the basement with the snakes. He’d picked up on the fact that she was terrified of going down there, even though he yelled at us for telling her there were snakes down there in the first place. He was convinced that we would be in a world of hurt if there was ever a tornado — and was sick of her saying that word.”

  “And what did she do?” I could practically picture her response, salivating at the prospect.

  “She said that snakes liked vaginas, so she was fine with it. Mom sent her to her room for the rest of the night. I heard my parents arguing in the library for like an hour.”

  “Who won in the end?” I already knew the answer.

  “Who do you think?” His grin widened. “Aisling has always known exactly how to play my father. When in doubt, she turns on the waterworks and he crumbles like the Lions in the red zone.”

  “That’s a rather peculiar comparison.”

  “It’s funny because the Lions are a football team that can’t score.” Braden was apologetic. “Sorry. I spent time listening to sports radio with Aidan today.”

  “It always gets him riled up,” Aidan volunteered. “Speaking of riled up, where’s the rest of the family?”

  “I think they’re in the parlor. I was just upstairs in your bedroom getting cleaned up. You don’t mind, right?”

  Braden combed his fingers through my freshly washed hair. After dealing with my grandfather — and crying so hard — I felt the need to wash away the dregs of the day. “Of course not. My room is your room. Your eyes are puffy.”

  “I had a weird afternoon.”

  “I want to hear about it.”

  Aidan took that as his cue to leave. “Is Jerry in there? I think I might’ve missed him a bit.”

  I nodded. “He has some big story about octopus cupcakes to tell you.”

  “Oh, well, that’s always fun.” Aidan smiled at me before disappearing, leaving Braden and me to finish our afternoon greeting in private.

  “I really did miss you.” I hugged myself against Braden again, enjoying the way his warm body melded with mine.

  “I missed you, too. I still want to know what made you cry — and who I have to punch because of it.”

  “That’s such a man thing to say.”

  “Yes, well, I’m a man. In fact, I’m the alpha man in this house.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Redmond snorted as he passed behind his brother. He had puke down the front of his shirt, but he didn’t look bothered by it.

  “Lily?” I asked, although it wasn’t really a question.

  “Jerry brought cupcakes and I gave her a little frosting, even though I was warned against it. I guess I should’ve listened. Everybody is gathering in there to form a plan of attack against Emmet and Mary this evening. You probably won’t want to miss it. I’ll be right back.”

  “Ooh, a plan of attack.” I giggled at the prospect. “Only in this family is that a legitimate thing. I mean ... come on.”

  “We’ll head inside in a few minutes,” Braden promised, waiting until he was sure Redmond was out of earshot to continue. “Izzy, I’m serious. Why were you crying? Are you okay?”

  His concern touched me. “I just had a bit of an emotional breakdown this afternoon, something your father helped me through. He’s amazing.”

  “No, I’m amazing.” Braden moved his hands to my back and started rubbing. “Why did you break down? Is it the cult people?”

  “On the surface, yeah. But it’s more than that. I just ... I needed to talk to my grandfather.”

  “And he’s still not returning your calls?”

  “No, but that didn’t dissuade your father. He actually video called my grandfather — I didn’t even know he had the equipment to do that. He told my grandfather to get over himself. Then he did ... and we talked ... and it’s okay. My grandfather is going to try to visit next month.”

  “Really?” Braden visibly relaxed at the news. “That’s good, right? That’s good.”

  I nodded enthusiastically. “It’s very good. I’m going to ask your father if he can stay here. My grandfather is always worried about money. I need to save up some money so I can pay for his plane ticket.”

  “No you don’t.”

  I cut him off before he could get to where he was heading. “You’re not paying for my grandfather’s ticket.”

  “I’m not,” he agreed. “We have access to a private plane. My father will arrange it.”

  I was dumbfounded. “But ... no.”

  “Um, yes. It will be fine.” He cupped the back of my head and gave me a soft kiss. “It’ll be great. I promise. Let me talk to my father about your grandfather staying here. I guarantee it won’t be a problem ... just as soon as we get Mary and Emmet out.”

  I thought about putting up more of an argument but ultimately decided to accept the gift Braden was so graciously offering. “Thank you. We made up and he wanted to hear all about you guys. But I won’t feel completely back to normal until I’ve seen him in person.”

  “Then we’ll make it happen. I look forward to meeting him. He must be a great guy to have raised you.”

  I rested my head against his chest, happy. The moment was interrupted by someone clearing a throat behind us. I turned to find Emmet standing there.

  “Do you think this is proper behavior?” he asked, a glass of what looked to be bourbon on the rocks clutched in his hand.

  “Is that a trick question?” Braden shot back. “I mean ... are you asking if it’s appropriate for you to be getting soused on Dad’s top-shelf liquor before six, or are you inquiring about something else?”

  Emmet’s frown deepened. “I’m talking about this, the two of you. Public fornication is frowned upon in most social circles, young man.”

  “Public fornication?” Braden’s eyebrows practically hopped off his forehead. “If you think this is public fornication, then I have some news for you. Wait, you know who would do the best job of explaining public fornication to you? Aisling. She’s very good at it ... both carrying it out and explaining it. I’ll make sure to bring it up at dinner.”

  Emmet shook his head. “I’m going upstairs to change. I suggest you two do the same — separately.”

  “We’re dressed,” Braden sneered. “It’s dinner, not a formal meal at the White House.”

  “One should always look one’s best.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  BY THE TIME WE WERE ALL SETTLED AT the dining room table, a measurable pall had settled over the room
. Dinners at Grimlock Manor were usually happy, raucous affairs, but no trace of that showed this evening. Everyone was morose and pouting, which was a bummer, because I was suddenly in a great mood.

  “Tell me the status of the cult members at the aquarium,” Emmet ordered as he pushed the mixed greens of his salad around his plate.

  It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “Oh, well—”

  “Izzy doesn’t answer to you,” Braden interjected. “You’re not her boss.”

  “No, but I still have ties to the reaper council, and I want to make sure that everything that can possibly be done to handle this situation is being done.”

  “I think he’s saying that Izzy isn’t professional enough to be in charge,” Aisling supplied. “Get him, Braden!” She was clearly looking to goad one of her brothers into picking a fight. That told me she’d been explicitly warned about taking on that task herself this evening. Perhaps Cormack was holding something over her head.

  “Izzy is a tremendous worker,” Braden argued, his eyes flashing. “If you’re suggesting otherwise—”

  Cormack cleared his throat at the end of the table, pinning Braden with a warning look. “I don’t believe Father was suggesting that. He wants an update. You can hardly blame him given everything that’s taken place.”

  “I can blame him,” Aisling muttered, flicking her eyes to Lily, sleeping in her portable bed in the corner. The baby was seemingly blissful in sleep despite the anger coursing through the room, which only served to prove she was truly a Grimlock. Chaos — at least of this variety — didn’t bother her in the least.

  “Well, there’s not much to tell,” I said. “I talked to the new blondes who showed up. They’re all street kids Titus apparently found in a park. He offered them a hundred bucks a day to pretend they’re pious believers and walk in a circle.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Cormack noted. “I wonder how many of his followers have been recruited that way.”

  “Not many, I think,” I countered, sipping my water. I really wanted a drink, but I was afraid of adding alcohol to the mix this evening — at least while Emmet and Mary were present. The only thing louder than sober Grimlocks are drunken Grimlocks, and they thrived on taking it one level too far. “From everything I can tell, most of the people there truly believe what Titus is selling. Or maybe they want to believe.”