My phone trilled, jolting me out of my sleep. I slapped my hand on it. When that didn’t stop it from ringing, I cracked open one eye and glared. Everyone I knew understood I was not a morning person, especially before I’ve had my fill of caffeine and food—mostly caffeine. So whoever was calling didn’t know me, and I saw no reason to answer their call this early in the morning.
When it finally stopped ringing, I turned on my side and tried to go back to sleep. Yeah, that didn’t work.
Flopping on my back, I stared up at the ceiling fan, whirling, pushing the 78-degree cool air around the room. Devlin had ordered me to keep the thermostat at that exact temperature. He even put a helpful note above it when I failed to follow orders. Of course, I had written over said note with my own suggestion, which led to a simple request devolving into childish antics.
His comments about protecting me floated around inside my head. Why the hell did I continue to give him such a hard time? And why the hell hadn’t he fired me yet? Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.
Rachel laughed, her voice penetrating the walls and raking over my bare skin like claws. Morning people should burn in hell. Seriously. I mean, who wakes up with a smile on their face and sunshine in their heart?
I shifted away from the sound, as if somehow my back could block the noise, and stared at the empty spot where Alek slept.
Like always, he had smoothed down his side of the bed, making it easy for me to make the rest of the bed when I got up. The first time I’d left my side unmade, he’d given me a raised eyebrow. The second time, he made a point of demonstrating how I should do it. I would have been offended had he not been wearing those lovely, form-fitting boxer shorts. Maybe I should get him to show me his technique again. I smiled at the thought and pushed myself up. I might as well join the rest of the team before Devlin came in here barking orders.
After brushing my teeth and pulling on a wrinkled t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I snatched my phone up and went to join the rest of the household. They’d have to forgive the wildness of my hair and the wrinkles in my shirt. It was too damn early to gussy myself up.
“Good morning,” Rachel chirped, and I do mean chirped, as I walked into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I mumbled, walked over to the counter, and lifted the coffeepot. The tantalizing black liquid sloshed around inside. But before I poured myself a cup, I turned and asked, “Is this the special coffee?” She mixed herbs in with the coffee that could keep us up for hours. It was also used to help those who expelled a lot of magick. She warned me to not drink more than four cups a day.
She smiled. “Yes.”
I studied the pot for a minute, weighing my options. The first time I found out about the coffee, I spit it all over the place and crushed Rachel’s heart. Now, I had the advantage of deciding to not fill my cup with the mystery brew. She never did tell me what she put in it.
“I can make regular coffee,” Rachel said hesitantly.
I must have been standing here longer than I thought, staring. “Will you tell me what’s in it?”
“Sure!” More chirping. “Apple blossom because it feeds into the immortality of our magick. Pennyroyal for strength. Rosemary to restore memory. Yarrow for injuries, both physical and mental. And caffeine in its purest form. Not diluted with chemicals and additives. This is dangerous, but I infuse it with green tea and my intent to keep it safe.” The damn mad chemist had the nerve to smile. Like casually throwing in one of the ingredients she used was dangerous should be okay.
Devlin walked in the kitchen and took the pot from me. “We have a lot of work to do this morning. Eat your breakfast fast and meet us in the living room.”
I saluted him with my middle finger and poured myself some of the concoction. It sounded like I would need the extra stimulant after all.
Breakfast usually consisted of whatever food was left over from the night before. Most times Jonah would make a feast to last us days. But on occasion we ordered takeout. Since nothing was stacked on the counter, I opened the refrigerator and gave a happy sigh. Steak and potatoes: the staple of any good diet. After polishing off the food of the gods, I finally meandered into the living room. Jonah sat at the fold-out table near the sliding glass door. I smiled and rubbed my belly in appreciation for the food. He smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement.
Rachel sat on the floor with two laptops in front of her, chewing on the end of a pencil—the light from the screen illuminating her face. She looked up at me and beamed. I tipped my coffee cup in her direction. She’d let her hair grow out some. The once-bob was now past her shoulders. She wore it pinned up in a girlish ponytail with bangs framing her face.
Marta sat next to Jonah at a newly constructed desk looking through papers that, judging from the holes, were once tacked up on the whiteboard. I glanced at the board to confirm this. Devlin must have ordered her to review all the files we had on everyone and everything. Probably said it with that bossy-like tone of his.
She, too, had her long hair tied up. She even had on a pair of slacks and a short-sleeved blouse. Why did I suddenly feel like a damn hobo?
Marta looked up and took me in. “I see you’re still cheery in the morning,” she said, smiling.
I smiled. Not because of what she said—she was making fun of me—but because she was smiling. And that made me feel good. “You know me so well.”
“You could have ironed your clothes,” she said.
I would have given her the bird, but Devlin, standing in the center of the room, cleared his throat and pointedly glanced at his watch.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Devlin scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed. I was starting the believe his sighs were curse words reserved just for me.
“I’ll stop being petty,” I said, offering an olive branch.
Devlin shook his head and turned away. But not fast enough for me to have missed the smile on his face. Maybe I was wearing him down. Or thin. Probably thin, judging from the tightness around his eyes.
While the notes had been removed, the pictures Jonah had taken of the different families were still tacked up to the board. I moved closer and examined Gerald Stewart. Damn. I really wanted to have another go at him. I had so many nice comebacks now that I’d had time to think of them. His wife, Louella, along with his sister, Helena, were taped next to him. They had moved down the pictures of Lisa and Thomas. I smiled at the red X’s I had added to their faces weeks ago.
Ronald’s picture was underneath that. I took a sip of my coffee, smiling over the brim. You’re next, Doc. I really needed to stop calling him that. It was too intimate a nickname for the sadistic asshole.
The Young family had their own board. I glanced at it as I sipped my coffee.
“Alek is working on locating someone for Petronela. I will jump in and help if he needs me. But until then, we are following four lines of investigation.”
I like how he framed what we were doing. Made it sound legitimate. Because who really says, “We have two groups to hunt down and kill?” So, making it sound official might help the group digest it.
“Killing them both would be ideal,” Rachel said.
Okay, maybe not the entire group. I took another swig of coffee to hide my wince. I was working for hired killers. Which made me one. Oh, I would love to see my guidance counselor’s face now. Tell her just what I ended up becoming. That acting career had seriously gone up in smoke. Who was I kidding? I never wanted to be an actress. I just wanted to piss off my guidance counselor and make her shut up.
It took a minute, but my brain finally registered what he said. “Four, Boss?”
He nodded. “Since you and Jonah will likely not obtain an invitation to the inner circle at The Better Day Church, I’m thinking we need to figure out another way to get the information we need. Possibly approaching one of the parishioners.”
“But we only attended one service,” I said, wondering why I was protesting. If his other avenue of finding out if they practiced blood magick meant I didn’t have to go back to the church, that was a win-win. Right?
He sat on the edge of the table. “Attending their mass service might not be the answer. And…” He trailed off, his gaze steady on me.
“I’m fine. Promise.”
“Okay. Then another service it is.” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed. “Next up.” He looked at Jonah.
Jonah leaned back in his chair. “My uncle got back to me last night and told me a gray aura represents Divine Evil. He didn’t have any more information than that, but”—he dipped his head in Rachel’s direction—“Rachel found a few things online.”
“I don’t trust most of the sources,” Rachel began. “But one item stood out. In 1340, a Buddhist monk named Khuchar was said to have achieved Divine Evil. The story goes on to say he slaughtered his entire monastery and became immortal.” She stared at the screen. “I think the story is fabricated, but the reference to Divine Evil is there.” She looked up at Devlin. “I need more time and maybe access to actual religious texts.”
“Jonah,” Devlin prompted.
“I can see if my uncle can get ahold of some.” He shook his head. “But Buddhism wasn’t something he studied. Might need to find a scholar on the subject.”
“Agreed,” Devlin said. “For now, we focus on getting as much information as possible.” He looked at Marta. “Print out everything you find online about it. Most stories about the past have some kernels of truth in them. We just need to weed through them. Rachel, keep working on tracking down all the people associated with Tribe.”
“Tribe?” I asked, interrupting.
“I will have to catch you up on that later,” Devlin said. “Petronela said we have to go to Luisah for information on the Ark.” He studied me for a minute. “You up for that?”
I wanted to say no, but then I wouldn’t be pulling my weight. Besides, Luisah and I were long overdue for a talk.
“Yes. I can handle that.”
“Then you and Jonah—”
My phone rang and a knock sounded at the door, cutting him off.
I glanced down at the display. Mr. Wan. A moment of panic wormed its way inside of me. I answered the phone just as Devlin left the room to answer the door.
“Mr. Wan, please tell me everything is all right,” I said in way of greeting.
“Yes. Of course,” he said, his tone hesitant. “Just wanted to let you know you have a visitor outside your door. She’s been here for an hour.”
“Umm…did she tell you what she wanted?” Who in the hell would show up at my apartment this early in the morning?
“Here, you can speak with her.”
A rustling sounded and a female said, “Hello.”
The voice sounded familiar. “Who is this?”
“Juliette. I met you at church yesterday,” she said, helping me recall the dark-haired girl who had stared at us with open curiosity. The one Jonah had also been consumed with for a short while.
How the hell did she get my address? And as soon as I thought it, I remembered the
guestbook I signed before we entered the church.
“Who is it?” Jonah asked, getting up and walking over to me.
“Juliette,” I said.
“Put it on speaker,” he whispered.
“What are you doing at my apartment?” I placed the phone on the table while Rachel, Marta, and Jonah gathered around.
She didn’t respond right away. When she spoke again, there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “I came to invite you to our women’s gathering tonight.”
“Why?” I asked then cursed myself. This was the opportunity we were hoping for.
“Gavina was…” she trailed off. “She was concerned and wanted to make sure you were okay. Can we meet and talk about it?”
Devlin walked back into the room and stood in the doorway. He signaled for me to respond.
“Where?” I asked.
“I saw a coffee shop around the corner from your apartment. I can meet you there.”
“Libations by R?” I asked.
“Yes. Can you make it?”
I looked around at the team. They all nodded. “Sure. Give me an hour.”
“Okay,” she said and hung up.
“Well,” I started. “I guess that solves one of our problems. Although, I don’t buy Gavina’s concern for one damn minute.”
Devlin pushed off the wall. “I don’t either. So be careful. I have to go have a discussion with a Detective Barnes about our reason for being on Tulare. He asked me to meet him at the station in Perry.”
Rachel stared at Devlin as if she expected him to elaborate. “I can go with you, Dev,” she said, closing her laptops. There was a slight hesitation in her voice. She knew something was off, but obviously, like me, couldn’t figure out what.
He shook his head and glanced at Jonah. “I can take care of this alone,” he said definitively.
Devlin turned away. I looked at Jonah, and he cut his eyes in Rachel’s direction. I raised an eyebrow. What did he expect me to do?
Jonah placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I think you should go with Nicole. Juliette might try to hurt her.”
Rachel whipped around, eyes narrowed. “No one hurts my friend.”
I honestly believed that the phrase ‘Cut a Bitch’ was invented for Rachel. Her loyalty to her friends was so unshakeable that it might border on madness. Jonah knew exactly which button to push with her. And how to redirect her attention.
While the distraction might have worked on her, I was curious why a detective from Perry would show up in Pleasanton to inquire about Devlin and his team being on the island. Like Tulare was some sort of secret, members-only place. The timing of the man’s presence felt too coincidental. Like someone had purposely sent him to check in on us.
“Jonah, help Marta with her search on Divine Evil.” Devlin pulled his keys out of his pocket and removed a key. After giving it to Marta, he turned to me and Rachel. “You two check in when you get there and when you leave.”
“Yes, Boss.”
He smiled and walked out.
Marta got up and walked over to me. She grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hard look. “Be safe.”
“Are you kidding? Rachel’s coming. She’s like an entire security detail rolled into one.”
Rachel beamed at me. Yep, definitely towing the line between sanity and madness.
Rosalind Moore, an acquaintance from high school, owned Libations by R: the upscale coffee/tea/sweet shoppe that used to be an upscale bar. Brunswood, being the only settlement on the island with a vast majority of nightlife activity, had all kinds of bars. Unfortunately, upscale didn’t fit the area as much as the owners had wanted. So, it closed two months after its grand opening.
A soft chime announced our arrival inside as we stepped into the moderately crowded space. I inhaled the seductive smell of banana nut muffins. Or, shall I say, ripened Chiquita gold bananas with a hint of vanilla and gluten-free walnuts baked in a mix of flour and butter. Ten dollars. Seriously, she charged ten dollars for one.
Rosalind looked up from the notebook she was writing in and studied us. Her eyes lightened, making the already soft brown look like amber. She closed the notebook and made her way to the counter—her coffee connoisseur standing by to fulfill the order she predicted each customer wanted. Funny thing was, she was always right.
I had been a regular here for a short while despite the prices but stopped coming when my bank account decided I needed to change my spending habits.
“Long time, Nicole. Black coffee. Sugar-free Banana nut muffin.” She looked at Rachel. “Green tea with a splash of peach. Cinnamon cookie.”
“Impressive,” Rachel said.
“Thank you. Thirty-two dollars even.”
I cried a little as I handed her the money. She must have raised the prices.
“Yes, ritual is always the key. Right? Like without it”—she gave me my change—“people would lose their way. Descend into chaos, even.”
“What happens if they do?” I asked. I’d learned to expect her little tidbits of wisdom.
Her eyes went amber-like again. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.” She smiled and pushed our order toward us. “It really is nice seeing you again, Nicole.”
“You too, Rosalind.” I looked over at her notebook. “New novel?”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Yes. And I’ve just gotten to the good part.” She glanced out the window. “She’ll be here soon.”
“You’re a mage,” Rachel said.
Rosalind cocked her head to the side. “No. I’m a connoisseur of people.” She leaned forward. “You broadcast so loudly.”
I urged Rachel away from the counter. “Forgot to mention Rosalind can read minds. Of course, now I know it’s because she’s a mage. I knew magick had to be involved.” Her magick must have never been viewed as a threat. Otherwise, my mark would have reacted to her reading my thoughts in the past.
“Should we wait outside on the patio?” Rachel asked.
The haphazard patio sat on the busy intersection where cars, trying to defy the speed of gravity, took the corner at more than forty miles per hour. Only the brave or stupid sat outside.
“No, it’s safer in here.”
We took a seat at a table near the back, facing the door. We were twenty minutes early and so was Juliette, who came strolling in, her gaze immediately landing on us. She wore a plain white t-shirt and a pair of tight blue jeans. At least it wasn’t the frock she had to wear yesterday. She smiled at Rosalind as she stood at the counter waiting. Rosalind paused several times before snapping her fingers.
“I got it! Chai,” she said, her voice carrying across the room.
Juliette shook her head. “Just herbal tea, please.”
Rosalind turned to the server, a frown on her face. She never got a customer’s order wrong.
After collecting her tea and an oatmeal cookie, Juliette made her way over to us, her steps hesitant, keeping her eyes focused on me.
We watched her set her cup down and pull a chair over to our table. Before she sat down, she looked at Rachel.
“Sorry. This is my friend Rachel.”
She hesitated before extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rachel gave her a small smile.
“Sit,” I said.
She nodded and sat. “I like your neighborhood.” She blew on her tea, watching me over the rim of her mug. “I live in a house with the rest of the girls. I’d rather have my own place. But Gavina says we must not stray from her. And being on our own—” She shook her head and took a sip of tea. Her face scrunched up and she set the mug down.
Why was she telling us this?”
Juliette looked at us. “Sorry,” she said, tearing into her napkin. “I ramble when I get nervous.” She pushed up in her chair—her back going straight. “I apologize for just showing up at your apartment. I would have called first, but you didn’t put your number in the guestbook.” She gave me a questioning look. I had to give her credit. She did a nice job of asking for my number without really asking.
“Of course,” I said, pulling a pen from my purse. After scribbling down my number on a napkin, I gave it to her.
She stared at it for a minute, as if she needed to memorize it. Finally, she folded it up and shoved it in her pocket. “Gavina wanted me to invite you to a gathering of The Daughters of the Vine,” she said in a rush. “She sensed your power at the church and thought you might consider joining our community.”
“Is this part of the main church?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Boyd…” She let out a small chuckle. “No. He fancies himself as some divine guide. Gavina lets him run the church how he wants. Her focus is on the women. She believes we need a safe space to worship as we please. Away from the tyranny of man.”
The Daughters of the Vine. Definitely sounded like a cult. Even the way she described it screamed secret religious faction. And the wording itself was a bit odd. Why the tyranny of man? Did they hate men?
“What goes on at the gatherings?” Rachel asked.
Juliette turned to her. “Spiritual enlightenment and worship. Mostly, we allow ourselves to be free.”
She was being vague. I wanted to press her more, but feared if I did, she would rescind her offer. But before I did commit, I had to know why Gavina had invaded my mind. We’d find out how later.
“Why would she probe my mind?” I asked.
Juliette smiled. “She does that to everyone. Her whispers have become so familiar that their absence can sometimes be disturbing.” She stared down at her shredded napkin. “She stopped whispering to us a few weeks ago. We don’t know why.” She swiveled her head toward the window, looking out at the parking lot. “I have to go. The meeting is at seven tonight. I truly hope you are able to attend.” She reached in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. After setting it on the table, she got up. “Thank you for meeting with me.” She smiled then turned and walked out the door—leaving her food and beverage behind.
“Well. That was odd. She sure seemed in a hurry to get out of here,” I noted.
“Yeah, she did,” Rachel said.
I picked up the scrap of paper she left and studied it. She’d written down an address located in the East Gate Estates community.
“It might be a trap,” Rachel said, glancing at the note. “And you’re not going alone.”
“If it is a trap, I shouldn’t go at all.” I shoved the paper in my purse and polished off the rest of my lukewarm coffee. “And I’m getting some strange vibes about this.” I wrapped my muffin in a napkin to eat on the way back to Devlin’s.
A crazed smile stretched across Rachel’s face. “You think it’s a game?”
If it was a game, Rachel seemed a little too eager to play. Since I’d seen her in a fight, I wasn’t concerned.
Before we stepped outside, I turned. “Rosalind?” She looked up. “How come you couldn’t guess her order?”
“Your friend?”
I didn’t correct her assumption. Instead, I made a non-committal noise, encouraging her to continue.
She put her pen tip in her mouth and stared out the window. “Her thoughts.” She shook her head as if she were casting off something she was thinking about.
“What about them?”
She looked back at me. “They’re not her own.”