Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Her mother’s response came fast. We’ll be five minutes.
Refocusing on Khloë, she asked, “Did you and Keenan enjoy your weekend vacation?” The imp’s mate was an incubus who belonged to Knox and Harper’s lair.
“Totes. We were both supposed to have today off work so we could do stuff together, but Knox needs him for ‘sentinel business’. Keenan felt bad that we had to cancel our plans, but I told him it’s fine; I’ll just spend the day relaxing and then have a quiet night at home.”
Resettling on the sofa, Tobe snorted. “No way Keenan would ever think you’re having a quiet night in. He’s probably just choosing to believe it because it allows him to function better while away from you.”
Khloë crossed one leg over the other. “Did you know that he still makes me promise not to blow shit up when he’s gone? Like I can’t be trusted to make good decisions if left unsupervised.” She shook her head, incredulous.
“You really disagree with that assessment?” asked Naomi. She personally didn’t.
The brunette sniffed. “When I’m in the mood to be affronted, yes.”
Right then, Ciaran teleported Jolene and Beck into the living area. It wasn’t long later that Tia and Alfie arrived. Of course, everyone felt the need to make some comment about Naomi’s brand-spanking-new brand. No one said anything negative about it, though—only Tobe had a real issue with it so far.
Once everyone had taken a seat, Naomi looked at Khloë and prompted, “So, you have intel.”
The imp grinned. “I sure do.”
“Let’s hear it,” urged Jolene, sitting on the sofa between Khloë and Tia.
“It turns out that the clerics are part of an old-time order called the Lemures,” Khloë revealed. “It’s Latin for—”
“Ghosts. Specters. Phantoms,” finished Naomi.
Nodding, Khloë planted her hands on the armrests. “It’s alleged that—much like noncorporeal entities—these clerics move about unseen, undetected, and leave no traces of themselves behind.”
“Hence the name of their order,” Alfie mused, perched on a stool he’d taken from the breakfast bar.
“Uh-huh,” Khloë agreed. “It was founded by the first generation of Eliouds. It has a strict no-women-allowed rule, though the members aren’t celibate. They believe in continuing the Elioud lines; they just have no real use for females. Charming. They are devout followers of God and will do absolutely anything in his name, including kill. They’ll target any supernatural creature they don’t consider holy if they decide it’s God’s will.”
Naomi hummed. “Rather bloodthirsty for men of the cloth, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” said Khloë, her tone prim. “They don’t see it as murder. In their view, they’re on holy missions. Their beliefs hold sprinkles of various religions—mostly Catholic. They consider themselves first and foremost to be tools of God.”
Jolene idly rubbed the pad of her thumb and forefinger together, her expression thoughtful. “So their beliefs are passed down from father to son.”
“Yup. Though they’re also suspected of abducting young boys and then fully indoctrinating them into the monkhood,” Khloë explained, her face tightening. “Presumably those boys are oblivious Eliouds who the clerics have managed to track down.”
Naomi bit out a curse. “And they dare consider themselves holy. There ain’t anything good and just about snatching and conditioning kids, no matter your reason.” It disgusted even her demon.
Khloë made a haughty mmm-hmm sound of agreement.
On the stool next to Alfie, Beck scratched at his sideburns. “Other than picking off whatever preternatural creature they deem fit, what else do they get up to?”
Khloë twirled her ankle. “There are whispers that over the years they’ve been responsible for the deaths of many people—like those who were attached to religious scandals, led Satanic cults, claimed to be Jesus reborn. Stuff like that.”
“And they seem to believe in prophecies,” added Tia, “so when you think how many ancient ones didn’t come to pass, you have to wonder if the Lemures—or maybe similar orders—had something to do with it.”
Naomi leaned forward in her seat, her gaze on Khloë. “What about the prophecy that they’re currently so wound up over?”
“I found it in a dark corner of the web, but I’ve had no joy translating it.” Khloë whipped out her phone, tapped the screen several times, and then handed it to Naomi. “This is a snapshot of it that someone somewhere took. It was written by a seriously ancient seer who predicted many events—some of which came to fruition.”
Eager for answers, Naomi’s demon pressed against her skin as she studied the image on the screen. It was a crinkly yellowy-cream page on which a short paragraph had been scrawled. Beneath it was a symbol. She felt her belly clench. “That’s my birthmark.”
Tobe cursed. “What does it say?” he pushed, leaning into her.
Naomi read it aloud in English. “ ‘In the days when angels retreat from the earth a time of change for the Lemures shall come. For she who bears the mark is the progeny of the devil and will join with a demon they call a legion. As one, in the city of sin and lights, they will destroy the Lemures and he who would lead them to darkness.’ ” Lowering the phone to her lap, she frowned. “That’s . . . sort of accurate—at least to a point.”