Only the Devout Page 2

  “I remember your fifteen-soul day,” Oliver volunteered before I could comment. “I believe they all came from the same fire at a senior residential center. I’m not sure that counts. Cillian’s came from eight different locations.”

  Braden frowned at the vampire. They had an easygoing relationship for the most part, though Oliver was somewhat protective of me because he knew me as a child. I didn’t exactly remember those days — it was before the death of my parents thanks to a monster coming through the death gate and killing them — but I felt a kinship with him that I didn’t think possible until we’d been reintroduced upon my return to Detroit to oversee the gate my parents perished protecting.

  “It was still fifteen souls,” Braden grumbled. “I mean ... has anyone ever beaten that?”

  “I believe your father absorbed twenty souls in one day,” Oliver replied, not missing a beat.

  Braden’s eyebrows migrated up his forehead. “No way!”

  “Your father wasn’t always a bureaucrat,” Oliver pointed out. “In recent years, he’s turned into a desk jockey, but before that he was quite the worker. If I remember correctly, the twenty souls happened on one of his last days in the field.”

  Braden pursed his lips. “So ... about eleven years ago?”

  Oliver nodded.

  “That doesn’t count.” Braden was firm. “He was working twenty-hour days in the aftermath of my mother’s death. He was just trying to keep from feeling ... well ... anything. I could do that too, except I like feeling things.” His eyes drifted to me and he winked. “Like right now. I’m feeling ... something.”

  Oliver threw the stapler perched at the edge of his desk toward Braden’s head. “Don’t be a disgusting pervert.”

  Braden’s reflexes were solid. He caught the stapler with minimal effort. “I’m not a pervert. I’m simply expressing my emotional core to the world.”

  Even I had to roll my eyes at that one. “Your emotional core?”

  “That’s a thing,” he shot back.

  “Uh-huh.” I would have to take his word for it. I was in no mood to listen to another Grimlock tall tale unless it had something to do with the incoming grandparents. “Why don’t your grandparents live here any longer? I would think they’d want to be close to their family.”

  “You’re thinking of normal grandparents. My grandparents hate us.”

  Yup. There was that Grimlock penchant for exaggeration again. “No grandparents hate their grandchildren.”

  “Mary and Emmet do.”

  “You call them by their first names?” This particular question had been plaguing me for days. I couldn’t fathom Braden and his siblings calling their grandparents by their first names if they really were as rigid as everyone professed. “I mean ... do they ask you to do that?”

  Braden shook his head. “It’s just something we started doing when we were kids. My grandparents weren’t around much. When they were, well ... they were difficult. They had specific ideas about how children should be raised. My father was okay acting as a poser for a few days. But my mother refused to pretend we were anything other than what we were.”

  “And what were you?” Oliver asked. “I seem to remember you guys being little hellions, but that could simply be my memory playing tricks on me.”

  “Oh, no. We were jerks.” Braden beamed at him. “You have to remember, there were five of us born in a six-year period. We grew up in a gang ... and we fed off each other. My father might not have liked it when we were little because he was brought up a certain way, but at some point he embraced the chaos.”

  I smiled at the way his eyes sparkled. He and his siblings were hell on legs as adults, so I could only imagine what they were like as children. “Did your grandparents try to punish you a lot when you misbehaved?”

  Braden nodded without hesitation. “They most definitely did. I remember them being at the house one Halloween. I think Aisling and Aidan were five that year. I only remember because they were dressed like Wednesday and Pugsley Addams and spent their time running around the house trying to stab each other with some new swords Dad had purchased at an auction.

  “Anyway, we had just finished our rounds in the neighborhood trick-or-treating and we were supposed to be sitting quietly in the parlor sorting our candy,” he continued, smiling at the memory. “Aisling and Aidan were running around the room screeching and my grandfather caught both of them by the ear and demanded they stop. He threatened to kill himself if they didn’t. My grandmother picked that moment to tell my parents that it was time they started considering boarding school for all of us because we needed discipline.

  “That aggravated my mother. She was more of a free spirit when it came to raising us. She demanded that my father take her side. Aisling was angry because she didn’t like having her ear pinched, so while my grandfather was distracted she pulled his wallet out of his coat pocket and threw it in the fire. Needless to say, talk of boarding school only increased after that.”

  I was surprised by the story. “Your father was okay with sending you to boarding school?”

  “I don’t know.” Braden shrugged. “He always used to threaten to send us to live with the circus. Truthfully, despite how loud we were, I think he liked having us around. We knew they were empty threats.”

  “Is that why your father had a falling out with them? Because they wanted to send you guys away?”

  Braden worked his jaw. “It wasn’t that. When we were kids, our grandparents used to visit once a year. It was a tense time, but we put up with it — mostly because Dad threatened to make us sleep in the dungeon if we didn’t. That was enough to keep Aisling in line, because she was afraid of the snakes. Without her stirring the pot, we behaved ourselves for the most part.”

  “So, what was it?” He was being evasive — which wasn’t his way — and that only made me want to dig deeper.

  “My mother’s death changed things,” Braden replied in a soft voice. “The entire balance of the family was thrown off. They came to town to help. Well, that’s how it should’ve been, right? But they made things worse.”

  “How so?”

  “They wanted to take over parenting us while my father pulled it together. They suggested he get out of town for a bit, grieve, and then come back when he could give us his all. It’s true that there were a few weeks when he wasn’t himself and we ran wild all over the neighborhood, but he really was doing the best that he could.”

  Sympathy for Cormack’s predicament had me clucking my tongue and nodding. “I’m sure he did.”

  “My grandparents didn’t see it that way and tried to move on the situation,” Braden explained. “Redmond was an adult. Cillian and I were essentially adults too. Aidan and Aisling were teenagers. My grandmother suggested at one point that they take Aisling and Aidan because there was still a chance to mold them into respectable adults. Apparently the rest of us were beyond their help.”

  Curiosity gave way to anger and my lips curved down. “They wanted to separate you?”

  He nodded. “They said my father was incapable of taking care of all of us. They were determined to take Aisling and Aidan.”

  “I can’t see your father reacting favorably to that,” Oliver offered.

  Braden’s smile was rueful. “Not even a little. He melted down. He was always protective of Aisling, but it kicked into high gear around then. I think it’s because she was the only girl and he convinced himself she had some of Mom in her — even though she’s all him.

  “It doesn’t really matter why he did it,” he continued. “He blew up in fantastic fashion, told them that he would die before he saw us separated, and then kicked them out of the house. It was an ugly business. They didn’t talk for a few years. It was a good thing for us, though, because he snapped out of his depression and started interacting with us again.

  “I mean, he was still sad, but he started looking toward the future again because of their visit. I guess something good did come of that situation. That’s the
last thing most of us remember about them.”

  I debated what to say. I hadn’t expected the conversation to get so deep — and dark. “Why are they coming now?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  I didn’t have to guess. “Lily,” I said, referring to Braden’s niece. She was several months old now, but she would be the elder Grimlocks’ only great-grandchild. “They want to see her.”

  “And maybe try to wrestle her away from Aisling so they can raise her right,” Braden agreed.

  There was zero chance of Lily Taylor being removed from her family, so I ignored his statement. I was about to press for more information on his grandparents — surely there had to be something good about them — when the door to the gate room opened to allow Paris Princeton, the newest member of our gate team, entrance. Rather than greet us, she remained focused on her iPad as she walked.

  “I think you’re being unreasonable,” she said pragmatically, never looking up. “I’m sure your mother did what she thought was right.”

  “She threatened Dakota Bishop with castration if he ever looked at me sideways again,” a female voice shrieked from the iPad, causing me to smile.

  “Sami,” Oliver and I said in unison.

  Sami Winters was Paris’s goddaughter, a spitfire of a teenager who lived in mid-Michigan and spent her days endlessly messaging Paris in an effort to get her godmother to circumvent whatever rules were being foisted upon her by her parents. Paris was a recent addition to our team, but we’d all become accustomed to the regular calls from Sami. I found her drama amusing. Of course, I wasn’t raising her.

  “Who is Dakota Bishop?” Paris asked reasonably.

  “Um, only the cutest boy in school,” Sami replied, petulant. I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine the eye roll.

  “And why doesn’t your mother like him?”

  “Because she’s the devil,” Sami replied. “She got Dad all riled up. He swears he’s going to sit outside the high school and beat up every boy wearing a letterman’s jacket until they all swear to never talk to me. They’re ruining my life.”

  “Yet somehow I think you’ll survive,” Paris replied wryly. “I am confused. Why would your father be staking out the high school? You’re in middle school.”

  “The middle school is across the road from the high school. I see the boys there all the time.”

  “And this Dakota Bishop is a high-schooler?” Paris placed the iPad on the desk as she sat next to me, allowing for a clear view of Sami, who had taken on a dreamy expression.

  “He’s a senior and he’s ultra-hot.”

  A male voice from behind Sami invaded her reverie. “He won’t be hot after I bury him in the woods.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Aric Winters, Sami’s father, made the occasional cameo on the video calls. He was always amusing when his offspring started complaining.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Sami screeched back to him. “I’m talking to Aunt Paris. Can’t I get five seconds of privacy in this house?”

  “No,” Aric shot back. “It’s my house. I just let you live here. I decide the rules, and the number one rule is that you’re not allowed to like high school boys.”

  “You can’t tell me who to like,” Sami shot back.

  Braden, who had only witnessed one or two calls from Sami, looked as amused as I felt as he watched the interaction. “This reminds me of when Aisling was fourteen,” he rhapsodized. “She fell in love with Kip Hunter. He lived next door ... and was in college. My father threatened to use one of his swords to hack off Kip’s ... um ... little friend. Aisling reacted just like your young friend there.”

  I could picture that, and it made me smile.

  Sami, who had one ear to the iPad and the other on her father, narrowed her eyes. “I’m totally mature. Who said that?”

  I grinned as Braden shrank back, making sure he wasn’t visible on the screen. He was brave when it came to a physical fight, but Paris’s stories about Sami made me believe the little girl was powerful on a whole other level. Braden was wise to be leery of her.

  “It’s just one of my co-workers,” Paris replied breezily. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is you’re still a minor so your parents can do whatever they want when it comes to boys. Despite that, your father isn’t going to bury a teenager in the woods no matter what he says.”

  “Yes, I will,” Aric called out, passing behind Sami. He looked to be busy around the house, but he was the sort of father who was never too distracted to be invested in his child’s life. That’s how I imagined Cormack was when raising his brood. “Don’t listen to her, Sami. She’s just trying to cement her place as your favorite aunt. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’ll totally kill that kid and hide his body if he comes sniffing around this house.”

  I smiled as Sami shrieked again. She was good at being a teenager. I had no doubt that one day she would grow into a marvelous adult.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the gate room door opening again. I expected another member of the Grimlock family — maybe even more than one. What I got was Tara Middleton, the woman who oversaw the day-to-day operations of the aquarium upstairs. She rarely visited the gate room, but she was well aware of the secret we were keeping below the main action on Belle Isle.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, straightening. There was something about her demeanor that tipped me things were about to take a less-amusing shift.

  “Um ... something is happening upstairs,” she replied, her eyes busy as they bounced between faces. They lingered on Braden — something I was used to because she had a bit of a crush on him — but returned to me. “There’s a bunch of people outside. Looks like a mob or something. I’m not sure what they’re doing, but I’m afraid to go out there on my own to find out.”

  “That’s my job,” I reassured her, my mind busy. “I guess I’ll go see what they’re doing.”

  “Not alone you won’t,” Braden argued, suddenly sober. “We’ll do it together.”

  We’d become a team of sorts since I returned to Detroit and met him. I had fought my battles solo, but I was getting used to the constant backup I had here. In fact, I liked it.

  “Together,” I agreed, grinning. “Let’s see what fresh hell has landed in our backyard this time.”

  Two

  Braden stuck close as we climbed the stairs from the basement. It wasn’t even a question that he would follow. It was expected. While I liked to fancy myself as “in charge” on Belle Isle, I was happy to have him with me.

  “That Sami kid is a trip,” he offered as we reached the main floor. “Does she call a lot?”

  My mind was already on the parking lot, but I answered all the same. “She does. She and Paris are ridiculously tight.”

  “Has Paris told you why?”

  Paris spoke frequently about her friend Zoe Lake-Winters, Sami’s mother, but always in a protective manner. There was something special about the friendship, but the specifics of the magic weaving a tapestry of trouble through the lives of the Winters family remained cloudy.

  “No,” I replied after a moment’s contemplation. “I’m not sure what the deal is with Sami. I do know they’re visiting — the entire family — in a few weeks. Paris seems excited about it.”

  Braden cast me a sidelong look, intrigue lighting his handsome features. “You don’t sound excited about it.”

  “I’m not dreading it,” I reassured him quickly. “Paris looks forward to it, and the family sounds interesting.”

  “But?”

  “But I think Paris’s friend is powerful.”

  He hesitated, his hand on the door. “More powerful than you?”

  “I’m not all that powerful.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know.”

  The simple declaration settled me. He obviously meant it. There was no guile behind his eyes. He believed in me, which was something I could never take for granted. “I ... um ... thanks, I
guess.”

  A grin spread across his features. “I love it when you get flustered.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss against the corner of my mouth. “It’s the truth. You’re the strongest person I know, so if this Zoe is stronger she must be a force to be reckoned with. Are you afraid of her?”

  I thought back to the brief interactions I’d seen that involved Zoe during Paris’s video calls. She was usually nothing more than a flash of blond hair and snark. “No.” I smiled at a few of the memories. “I think she’s just a woman — a wife and mother — who is incredibly powerful. I don’t think she’s evil. And I don’t think she’s a pushover.”

  “You almost sound excited, but nervous, to meet her.”

  “In a way, I am.”

  “Well, then I look forward to it too.” He squeezed my hand before turning his attention to the glass door separating the aquarium from the outside world. Even though we couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, there was a flurry of movement in the parking lot. Several people — maybe more — had descended on our quiet island hamlet.

  “I am not looking forward to this,” Braden added, his expression grim.

  I followed his gaze. I was right there with him. “Me either. Let me do the talking.”

  Mock annoyance — or maybe it was real — washed over Braden’s expressive face. “Are you suggesting that I can’t handle whatever this is?”

  That’s exactly what I was suggesting. “You have many fine qualities,” I reassured him as I pushed open the door. “You’re handsome. You’re fun. You’re romantic. You have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “You forgot that I’m smoking hot and a sex god,” Braden offered helpfully.

  “You’re not good when it comes to dealing with people politely,” I added, frowning when I realized there were more people in the parking lot than I initially thought. In fact, a quick count told me we were dealing with at least fifty people. “And I think we’re going to have to be polite because we’re outnumbered.”

  Braden dragged his eyes from me and focused on the crowd in the lot. “What is this?”