Only the Devout

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Izzy, my love, you can’t say things like that and then cut us off from the information,” Braden said sweetly. “It freaks me out, because I know you’re magically inside that guy’s head. It makes me worry that he can somehow hurt you there.”

  I quickly found my voice. “You don’t have to worry. In fact ... he’s not magical.”

  “How is that possible?” Cormack protested. “He has to be magical. They were chanting.”

  “It was for show.” I broke my connection with Walter and took a step back, my mind reeling at the possibilities. “I think ... no, I know, that we have a problem.”

  “Always words I want to hear,” Redmond said dryly. “What sort of problem do we have this time?”

  “Walter is under a spell.”

  They all started talking at once.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How is that possible?”

  “What sort of spell?”

  “I don’t know.” I weighed the possibilities. “I don’t know how any of this is possible.”

  “You must have an idea,” Cormack pressed.

  I debated the best way to say it but ultimately decided to simply throw it out there. “I think we’re dealing with revenants.”

  “What?” Braden’s eyes widened as Aisling took an involuntary step back.

  “How is that possible?” Cormack asked, his voice even. He looked calm, but I knew better. “I thought they were still trapped on their plane.”

  “As far as I know, they are. That doesn’t mean one or two haven’t crossed over in the years since. Cernunnos told me that was a possibility. There are humans on this side trying to help them cross over. That’s what I see here.”

  “Which means this was never about the gate,” Braden surmised. “It was always about the revenants.”

  “A door. They kept referring to it as a door. That’s because there’s a door between planes. The gate is something else entirely.”

  “So what do we do?” Cillian asked. “We can’t very well stroll up to the aquarium parking lot and take out all the cult members.”

  “We can’t,” I agreed. “I think most of them are under spells, like Walter. The last thing he was truly in charge of was arguing with his wife about her attachment to Titus. Something happened to him later, something dark. It made him act out of sorts. I don’t think any of this was purposeful, at least not on his part.”

  Cormack studied my profile. “Do you know what happened to change his way of thinking?”

  I held out my hands, helplessness washing over me. “I honestly don’t. His mind is clouded, as if a dark sheet was placed over his eyes. Whoever did it was smart, because it makes it impossible for me to see what happened. All I know is that it’s likely that most of those people at the aquarium are innocent.”

  “Then so was the guy who slit his throat here the other night,” Braden mused. “He was forced to do that by whoever had control of him.”

  The notion made me sick to my stomach. “I saw something else in his head. It was a witch, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her before.”

  “Not Luna?” Aisling looked appalled at the prospect.

  “Definitely not Luna,” I said. “This witch is older ... and I think it’s Olive Westborn, the witch who survived the massacre up north.”

  “You mean the witch working for your aunt,” Cormack countered. “You said you were determined to find her. It appears you were correct.”

  “Maybe. There are no certainties right now. I still want to talk to her. I think that should be our next stop.”

  “And then what?” Aisling asked. “How do we stop this? I don’t want those idiots in the robes showing up to torture Lily again tonight.”

  “That won’t happen,” Cormack reassured her. “If we don’t have this solved long before nightfall, then you and Griffin will take Lily to a hotel. I won’t have you put through another night like last night.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Aisling fired back, “but we can’t stay in a hotel forever.”

  “You won’t have to.” I was certain of that. “This is going to end today. We just have to put the final pieces together. That means finding Olive. How it ends, I can’t say, but it ends today, I promise you that.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Cormack called the front office to secure substitutes for his children. They would not be collecting souls today. The cult was our main concern, and everyone was determined to work together to eradicate the threat. That meant breaking up into teams.

  Braden, Aisling, and Griffin accompanied me to Maxine’s store. The battle for who would keep Lily was fierce, but Aisling played her mom card. There was nothing in the world that could separate her from Lily at this point. The others acquiesced.

  Maxine was behind the counter when we entered. She grinned when she saw Aisling. They had a peculiar relationship, which was putting it mildly, and hadn’t seen each other since Lily’s birth. In fact, I was fairly certain this was the first time Maxine had seen Lily.

  “Hello, Mouth.” She greeted Aisling with a friendly smile, her gaze immediately going to the baby Aisling carried on her chest. “And, hello, Junior Mouth.”

  Aisling scowled. “You shouldn’t saddle her with a nickname until you get to know her.”

  “Oh, I know her.” Maxine slid from behind the counter and headed straight for the baby, ignoring me in the process. “I would know this face anywhere.” Her fingers were gentle as she brushed them against the baby’s soft cheek. In response, Lily laughed at the tickling.

  “How cute is she?” Maxine beamed at Aisling in such a way it was impossible for the tempestuous Grimlock girl not to return the expression. “She looks exactly like you at that age. Well, she looks like all of you. I was never certain when your mother brought an infant into the store which one I was dealing with. You guys came so fast there for a bit it was difficult to keep you straight. Well, except for Redmond. He was always easy to tell apart because he’s the oldest.”

  Her eyes traveled to Braden. “Until Cillian grew out his hair I thought you two were the same person because you were roughly the same size.”

  Braden snorted. “We’re all handsome devils. I understand the confusion.”

  “Yes, you’re hotter than hot,” I agreed, impatient. “Can you focus on me? We have a problem.”

  Maxine sighed. “When don’t you have a problem?” She was reluctant to drag herself away from the baby.

  “I’m sure Aisling will bring Lily in for a longer visit when this is over.”

  “No, I won’t.” Aisling made a face. “I don’t like your aunt. She’s mean to me.”

  Maxine snorted, unbothered by the statement. “Oh, you’re so funny. I love you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Aisling rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. You always told me horrible fortunes when I was a kid just to torture me. You’re mean.”

  “I told you those things because they were true at the time.” Maxine feigned patience. “You were a pain in the ass as a teenager. You needed to learn that the world didn’t revolve around you. And, look, it worked out.” She inclined her head toward Griffin. “You found a man who could handle you — which wasn’t an easy feat — and you’re happy. That wouldn’t have happened without a little push.”

  “Oh, so now you’re taking credit for Griffin and me getting together?” Aisling was incensed. “I suppose I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You didn’t.” Maxine was matter-of-fact. “He had everything to do with it. He saw past that crusty exterior of yours. He managed to tolerate your father and brothers. He decided he could live with how codependent you all are. He’s the reason you’re so happy.”

  Aisling opened her mouth to argue but then slid her gaze to Griffin. “Are you going to stand up for me?”

  Griffin shook his head, obviously amused. “You can handle your own fights. You’ve proven that so many times I’ve lost count. Besides, I look like a hero the way she tells the story. Like I’m going to argue wi
th that.”

  Aisling snorted and then shook her head. “Maybe I’ll bring Lily back for a visit,” she said. “No guarantees.”

  Maxine’s expression told me she knew better. She turned her full attention to me. “You’re here about Olive.”

  “I am,” I confirmed. “What time does she start?”

  “An hour ago.”

  I frowned. “So she didn’t show up?”

  Maxine shook her head. “No, and she didn’t call in. That’s not like her, but you obviously have a hunch.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the reason Cillian called?”

  I was taken aback. “Cillian?” I glanced at Braden, but he looked as confused as me. “I don’t understand. Why would he call?”

  “How should I know? He said someone should call him once you all arrived. I’ve been expecting you for fifteen minutes.”

  Braden made a face as he dug in his pocket and retrieved his phone. “He could’ve just called us.”

  “He wanted to verify Olive’s address,” Maxine explained. “I wasn’t keen to give it out, but he seemed to already have it. Besides, he’s the least likely member of your family to be a stalker.”

  “Right.” Braden grinned and then frowned. “Wait, which of us is the most likely?” He looked to Aisling and then they both broke into identical grins.

  “Redmond,” they said simultaneously.

  Aisling swayed back and forth with Lily as Braden placed the call. I was feeling antsy, as if waiting for some big revelation, but I wasn’t in charge of the information gathering. I had no choice but to wait things out. Thankfully, Cillian picked up right away.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Braden said by way of greeting. “Why didn’t you call us if you had information?” He was silent for a moment. “Just tell me and I’ll tell them.” More silence. “No, seriously, just tell me.” He waited. “Fine.” Braden sighed and put his phone on speaker so everybody could hear. “We’re all present and accounted for. Talk.”

  “Can everybody hear me?” Cillian asked through the phone.

  Lily laughed at his voice, her eyes going wide. She looked around, as if expecting to see him.

  “He’s not here,” Aisling told her in a reasonable tone. “You’ll learn about the phone eventually.”

  Lily almost looked sad at the news.

  “Hey, Lily,” Cillian called out, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m your favorite uncle, right? That’s why you wanted to see me.”

  Lily laughed again.

  “I knew I was her favorite uncle.” Cillian sounded proud of himself, but then sobered. “So, I hit upon something right after you guys left. I was going to call, but I wanted to confirm first. That’s why I called Maxine.”

  “And then wouldn’t tell me what he found,” Maxine complained, making a face.

  “I figured I would just tell you when I told them.”

  “And yet we still don’t know,” I snapped, annoyance running through me like a cresting wave. “Tell us what you found.”

  “Geez,” Cillian intoned. “I thought Aisling was crabby. You put her to shame.”

  “Cillian ... .” My voice was low and full of warning.

  “You’re really starting to fit right in with this family,” Cillian noted. “So, as I was saying, I found an interesting article on the internet when I started researching Olive Westborn. That’s the name you got from your friends, right?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “They said she was one of the few survivors at the compound.”

  “She was. I found mention of her in a news article from around that time. A reporter managed to track her down in a hospital. She was being treated for burns on her hands. When the reporter asked her to describe what happened, she said a monster set the buildings on fire with her eyes.”

  I was taken aback. “I don’t think Zoe can set fire with her eyes. That’s a movie thing.”

  Cillian chuckled. “I don’t think she can either. That’s not the important part of the story.”

  “You might as well get comfortable,” Aisling offered, sliding into a chair and snuggling Lily. “Cillian tells a story like my father. Neither of them can get to the point.”

  “From the woman who takes a full hour to tell the story of how she convinced the nuns at St. Peter Catholic Church that Angelina needed to be converted for the sake of all mankind if they didn’t want a demon taking over the planet, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian said dryly. “The story Olive told isn’t important. But after she told the story, she was placed in the mental ward of the hospital for six months.”

  Realization dawned. “People assumed she was crazy.”

  “They most certainly did,” he agreed. “This Zoe woman might not have blown up buildings with her eyes, but she clearly used magic to decimate that compound. By the way, I saw the photos of the rubble when she was finished. We probably don’t want to tick her off when she visits.”

  “Get back to Olive. Is she involved in this?”

  “I can’t say.” From the other end of the call, I heard his fingers tapping away on the keyboard. “Here’s the thing: Olive Westborn was in the hospital for six months. She stuck to her story the entire time. Eventually, her therapist, Sandy Weaver, said that she was delusional but not a threat to others. Because Olive had no money, she was released to the street with orders to continue seeing Sandy.”

  “That’s sad,” Griffin lamented. “How did she make her way down here?”

  “I’m getting to that.” Cillian sounded snippy. “Why can’t you people let me tell a story in my own time?”

  “Because Lily will be having a birthday by the time you finish,” Aisling replied. “Just get to the meat of it.”

  “No. It’s my story and I’ll tell it the way I want.” It was the only time I’d ever heard him petulant. “After being released from the hospital, Olive moved in with a cousin. It didn’t last long — apparently stories of the woman with the fire eyes didn’t go over well with the kids — and she left of her own accord.

  “She moved into an apartment in Alpena for a few years while working at a grocery store,” he continued. “Her records state that she kept telling the story about the evil woman, but people came to expect it and essentially just nodded and smiled.”

  “They were placating her,” Griffin said. “They knew she was mentally unbalanced but didn’t want to push her over the edge.”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” Cillian agreed. “This went on a few years and all the while Sandy Weaver kept treating Olive. Then Sandy married about six years back and moved to Grand Rapids.”

  Something about the story bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.

  “Olive stayed in Alpena another few years and then fell off the radar,” Cillian continued. “She didn’t pop up again until about two years ago, when she was ticketed for misdemeanor mischief in Grand Rapids. It seems she was getting drunk at festivals and telling people the thrilling story of a woman who got away with killing thousands of people in Michigan.”

  I frowned. “Thousands?” Could that be right? There’s no way Paris would stand idly by while Zoe massacred thousands of people. It just didn’t fit with the woman I knew.

  “I think her mind was pretty much gone,” Cillian explained. “It seems drugs became her way to cope. And, for the record, the number of people who died at that compound was only fifteen.”

  “Only?” Griffin echoed. “That seems like a lot of people.”

  “Not when you figure there were more than seventy-five people there when things started.”

  “I guess.” Griffin rubbed his chin. “I still don’t understand how Olive ended up here.”

  “And I don’t think you can be talking about the same person,” Maxine persisted. “Olive has never shown signs of mental imbalance, and she never told me a story about a woman who shot fire from her eyes and massacred thousands of people.”

  “That’s because, according to the Kenny County Medical
Examiner’s Office, Olive Westborn died in a fire about a year ago. Does anyone want to guess who identified her body?”

  Aisling answered before I could. “Sandy Weaver. You’ve said her name like six times, which means she has to be involved in this somehow.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Give that woman a cigar,” Cillian intoned, causing Lily to laugh. “Oh, I wish I could see her. We should’ve done this over video chat.”

  “Well, we’re not starting now,” I snapped, irritation bubbling up. “Get to the point of this story, Cillian.”

  “Okay, crabby,” Cillian muttered. “We last left Sandy’s story when she departed Alpena. She left because she got married and her new husband lived in Grand Rapids. Now, this is where things get interesting.”

  And that was when things started to connect in my head. “Titus. She married Titus.”

  Cillian sucked in a breath. “You just stole my thunder.”

  “How did you know that?” Griffin asked.

  “Weaver. Titus Weaver. That wasn’t always his name. We thought about why he changed it.”

  “I didn’t come up with a wife when I ran a background check on him,” Griffin argued.

  “Well, he has one,” Cillian said. “Her name is Sandy.”

  My mind was jumbled with possibilities. “So Sandy Weaver lied about Olive dying in a fire, somehow slapped her together, and sent her over here months early to work for my aunt because they planned to do something at the death gate?” I challenged. “How does that fit?”

  “I don’t know,” Cillian replied. “We don’t know that Olive Westborn isn’t really dead. Maybe Sandy stole her identity and sent a spy here.”

  Oh, well, that made more sense. “That would explain why she’s no longer spouting the story about Zoe shooting fire from her eyes and killing people.”

  “I’m guessing she was traumatized by whatever went down at that compound,” Cillian explained. “I want to do a deep dive into the witness reports because it sounds like quite the fight. A few people describe this Zoe chick as having black eyes and some guy talking her off a ledge before she could go all ‘I’m a super villain and I’m going to destroy Gotham.”