“Which one is the human you wanted me to take a look at?” Losham asked.

Rami pointed at a tall, handsome man. “His name is Shawn Davidson. He is a car salesman, a good one. Whenever he talks, the others listen. He has a commanding presence.”

Taking a seat at the back of the group, Losham spent the next hour observing the guy closely. The quack psychologist was doing a decent job of spurring the men on without going as far as inciting them to commit violence against their exes. Shawn kept throwing around crude jokes and making comments that had the other men laughing and nodding in agreement.

As the meeting drew to a close, Losham leaned toward Rami’s ear. “He has potential.”

What the other men saw was a confident, charming, and easy to smile young man who entertained them. But underneath was a seething rage. Losham didn’t like the guy. Shawn was emotionally unstable, and therefore dangerous and unpredictable. The opposite of what Losham valued in a man. But the human fit perfectly into Rami’s plan.

Providing they could harness all that rage and control it.

They didn’t need a loose cannon, they needed a charismatic leader. One who could turn a bunch of suburban rejects into Satan-worshipping fanatics who dressed up in robes and performed idiotic rituals, believing wholeheartedly that they were the evil one’s chosen.

The question was whether the human was not only charismatic but also capable of managing the cult and growing its numbers. Losham was willing to finance the operation, but he wanted to hand the management over to a competent human.

His and Rami’s time was too valuable to waste on this smokescreen operation.

As it grew, the cult could start collecting membership fees, and Losham would no longer need to finance it. Maybe he could even make a profit. After all, that was what cults were for—to make their leaders rich by convincing the brainwashed members to surrender their money, and sometimes even their women.

They could keep the females, Losham wasn’t interested in their subpar stock, only in the profits.

“Bring him to me,” he told Rami.

“Yes, sir.”

The human smiled confidently, even though he was clearly suspicious, and offered his hand. “Shawn Davidson at your service.”

Losham shook the guy’s hand. “Logan Foresight. Could I have a few minutes of your time, Shawn? I want to make you an offer, but I’d rather not do it here.”

Shawn chuckled. “Me neither. If you want to talk, let’s do it over beers.”

“Excellent idea. Do you have a place in mind?”

When Losham and Rami arrived at the bar Shawn Davidson had chosen, the human was already there, clasping hands with the bartender as if they were old friends. They probably were. Mr. Davidson smelled like a guy who liked to drink. Since he hadn’t started his drinking yet, his body odor was too faint for a human to detect, but not to an immortal. It was the ever-present scent of a heavy drinker.

Shawn showed them to a booth in the end. “I ordered beers. Domestic okay?”

Losham wouldn’t touch the thing if he could help it, but he smiled and nodded as if it was fine.

“How are you enjoying our support group?” Losham started.

Shawn shrugged. “The shrink is good. No bullshit from that guy. He knows we all have been wronged and doesn't try to sugarcoat it.”

Losham nodded. “That’s right. We have been wronged, and we need an outlet to express our anger.”

The waitress arrived with their beers and a bowl of mixed nuts. Shawn didn’t even pretend to pull out his wallet, waiting for Losham to pay. Good. The guy was cheap and greedy. He would do anything for money.

“So what’s your story, Logan? Your wife left you? Cheated on you?”

“Something like that. That is why I founded the support group. I like helping other men get their lives back in order. The right order.” He glanced at Shawn meaningfully. “Where I come from, women are not free to do whatever they want like they are here. They are owned. The way it’s supposed to be.”

Shawn lifted his beer bottle. “Amen to that.”

Encouraged by Shawn’s response, Losham pushed forward with Mortdh’s age-old propaganda that had worked its magic on countless generations of humans. “Life is so much simpler that way. There can be only one leader in the family, and naturally, it’s the male. Women should obey and serve their husbands.”

Shawn lifted his bottle again. “You’re my kind of guy, Logan.” He emptied the bottle and signaled the bartender to bring him another one.

“You are probably wondering about the offer I mentioned.”

Shawn nodded while stealing glances at the bartender, impatient for his next drink.

“I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to manage this little pet project of mine. I need someone to lead the group and grow it into a club. I recognize leadership ability when I see it, and you have it in spades. To start with, I’m going to compensate you for your time, generously. When membership grows and becomes more substantial, we will start charging fees and you’ll get a cut of the profits. Basically, I’m handing you a business and financing it. I’m sure a man as smart as yourself recognizes that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

The wheels in Shawn’s head were turning, calculating, appraising. The guy’s expression was guarded, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts—starting with greed and ending in doubt. A few moments later, he admitted he had no idea how to go about it. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

Losham leaned back in his chair. “Men need an ideology to serve as the glue that binds them together. If we want to grow this thing into a profitable business, it needs to become a cult. People like rituals, they like feeling special, better than others. We need to sell them on a belief system.”

Shawn rubbed his jaw. “I’m a salesmen. I can sell anything. But I’m not good at making up that kind of crap.”

The waitress arrived with Shawn’s beer. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“No, thank you.” Losham lifted his untouched beer as if he was going to take a sip.

“Don’t worry about that part. I can supply you with the script and the agenda. Do you want to have a say in what it would be?”

Losham was leading up to this. It was where Shawn was supposed to spill his own set of beliefs if he had any.

“I like your attitude toward females. That’s something I stand a hundred percent behind and have no problem promoting. Other than that, as long as you don’t ask me to preach turning the other cheek, I don’t care what it is. If you want me to convince a bunch of guys to chant prayers to Satan or some other crap like that, I’ll do it. I don’t have a problem with inciting them to violence either. What I want is to grow this shit into a profit making machine and get revenge on the whoring cunt who left me and stole my money.”

Losham patted Rami on the back and offered Shawn a wide grin. “Then we have a deal, Mr. Davison. How does ten thousand a month starting salary sound?”

Shawn’s eyes popped wide open. “Sounds good, what about profit sharing?”

“Once the cult starts making money, I only want to keep twenty percent. The rest will go to you, but naturally, your salary will get deducted from your share.”

Shawn whistled. “One hell of an offer, Logan. When do I start?”

“You need to give notice at your current place of employment. Are two weeks good?” Losham needed time to formulate the new religion that Shawn would be preaching. Otherwise, he would’ve demanded an earlier start.

Shawn offered his hand. “Let’s shake on it, but I would like to get this in writing too. No offense, Logan, but I don’t want to leave my job for empty promises. I make good money selling luxury cars.”

“Naturally.”

Losham lifted his palm and Rami put a checkbook on it together with a pen.

“Would the first month’s pay put you at ease?”

The guy’s eyes were on the checkbook when he nodded. “Sure.”

Handing the human a check for ten thousand dollars, Losham held on to it for a moment longer. “One more thing, my friend. The time for your revenge will come, but not yet, and not without my permission. I don’t want my new manager getting in trouble with the law.”

The guy didn’t like it, but the allure of a ten thousand dollar check was apparently stronger than his need for immediate revenge.

“I will not do anything illegal.”

“Good enough.”