The lights were on at Momma R’s house, the soft glow through the windows telling me she hadn’t gone to bed just yet. Or had gotten up early. Who knew with that woman. A badass witch that frightened Uncle Luc and On High both, she did as she pleased. In fact, both good and evil decided Momma R was best left alive and out of their respective territories. Something about smiting and raining down an unholy fire or whatever.

I nudged the door closed with my hip and didn’t bother flipping the lock. If something got past her wards, we were fucked anyway. A flimsy lock wouldn’t do anything.

“Hey, Momma.” I padded into the living room, finding her relaxing on the couch with a cup of tea. Another already waited for me, steam wafting from the brown liquid.

“Sit, little demon.” Little demon. Her name for me. I’d been three hundred when I first stumbled through her front door, but I was still her little demon.

It felt… nice. Even if the nickname annoyed Sam.

I picked up my cup, cradling it in my palms, and settled on the other end of the couch.

Momma R was quiet, seeming to know I was troubled. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a secret that some weird shit was going on. “Something on your mind?”

“Have you seen Jezze around?” No sense in beating around the bush.

Momma R frowned. “She had a date tonight. Why? Is something wrong?” The witch narrowed her eyes. “Do I need to kill him?”

Ah, a woman after my own heart.

“Not yet.” Yet being the operative word. “She never showed up for her shift and isn’t answering my calls or texts.”

Which, okay, admittedly shit had gotten weird with us lately. We were best friends, but we weren’t. Between Sam, Bryony, and the (nearly) end of the world, our relationship had taken a back seat to everything. We didn’t just hang out anymore. We hunted baddies, researched baddies, and… that was about it.

Maybe this wasn’t a mystical thing, but a me thing. Was she avoiding me? Ugh. What the fuck? I was not this insecure bitch.

Momma R saved me from my spiraling thoughts and reached for her phone. She attempted to call Jezebeth and, like me, got no answer. She shook her head with a sigh and laid the useless phone on the couch cushion. “Stupid, love-struck girl.”

Yeah, I hoped that was it, too. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that our hopes were useless.

“Momma, do you think her behavior is connected to what’s been going on in the city?”

I wanted her to lie to me and tell me I was being a paranoid idiot.

She didn’t.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think not. Jezze isn’t a fool.” Momma R sighed. “She keeps protective charms on that would normally protect her from supernatural influence, but I’ve seen the news.” She gestured to the TV. “And Jezze has kept me up to date on your investigation.” She shook her head. “I sense a mystical influence behind the scenes, but it’s elusive.”

Which was scary in and of itself. The last time Momma R wasn’t able to figure something out, Bryony had nearly died.

“I’m just worried Jezze might have— “

The front door opened, silencing me, and Jezze drifted into the house. She had a sway in her step, movements fluid and loose, and a knowing smile curling her lips. A subtle glow filled her cheeks, one I recognized from seeing it on my own face each time I climbed on Sam’s lap.

Or crawled beneath him.

Or bent over for him.

And this one time I twisted around and…

She slowly made her way over to us and dropped her purse on the coffee table before falling back into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Mmmm. Hey, Caith. Hey Momma.”

Jezze practically purred those words, the syllables leaving her mouth with a soft hum.

“Jezebeth Deja Renard.” Momma R scowled at her daughter. “Where exactly have you been?”

Jezze curled her lip and huffed, the quick exhale sending a hint of my friend’s scent my way. Sex and something more teased my nose, but I parted my lips to keep more from filling my lungs.

My scent mixed with Sam’s? Sexy. Jezze and some random guy? So not.

I set down my teacup and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Jezze, I—we—have been worried. You never showed tonight and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

Jezze rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Is that all? I take one night off and you two go all alphabet-letter agency on me?”

“Dude.” I glared at her. “This is so not us playing FBI or CIA. Worried is not the same as tapping your phone or questioning your whereabouts.”

“Seriously?”

Okay, we were questioning her whereabouts. Whatever. I still didn’t have alphabet letters attached to my name, nor did I have a badass badge that got me into any building I pleased.

I turned to Momma R, waiting for the witch to jump into the parental fray. “Jezze, please tell me where you were tonight.”

I was pretty sure Momma R had lost her parental-bitchtastic edge. She’d said the p-word.

Maybe something was wrong with her, too.

Jezze sighed dramatically and put her feet on the coffee table while she slumped in the chair. “My boyfriend took me to the new temple.”

She said the words as if they were nothing. As if he’d taken her to a movie instead of… I swallowed hard, a chill skating down my spine. “To… To Lucia’s temple? What’s up with you? That place is fucked!”

Jezze scoffed. “You checked it out and it was fine.” She gave me a dismissive wave. “Besides, we had a great time. Singing, dancing. It’s almost like a club, not some religious temple.” Jezze wiggled in her seat, humming a song as if she was back in that building.

I simply shook my head. “I can’t believe you went there. Shit is going down in Orlando and I’m damned sure that place is in the middle of it all.”

Jezze blew a raspberry at me. “You’re being paranoid,” she sing-songed. “The place is fine. Look at me.” She gestured at herself. “I’m fine. Totes not hurt, sick, or catatonic.” She hummed. “Not for his lack of trying to fuck me unconscious.” Not something I wanted to picture. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. Silaran’s Lucia was all about the evil. This place is so not. It can’t be the same person. It’s a coincidence.”

Coincidence my old, perfectly rounded ass.

“There were people pulled out of there today.” I gave her a heavy stare, wanting her to acknowledge what the fuck I was saying. “They were catatonic. Like all the others.”

“Yeah, and people were pulled out of Hell’s Chapel, too.” Jezze pointed at me. “Should I just skip work from now on?” She had one of those sexually sated smiles on her lips again. “It’d give me time for other things.”

“Keep being a bitch and you won’t be welcome anymore.”

“Girls,” Momma R snapped, the air whipping around us, a sharp sting flicking first my ear and then Jezze’s. “Enough.”

“Whatever,” Jezze grumbled and climbed to her feet. “I’m a grown woman. Not some hundred-year-old virgin.”

Yeah, Jezze had been a late bloomer.

By the time Jezze got to the stairs, she had her phone in her hands, thumbs flying over the screen. Texting. Probably messages to her new boyfriend. I almost stomped over there and snatched it from her hands, ready to crush it in my fist. But it wouldn’t do any good. Magical influence or not, she was impossible once she dug her heels in.

I grumbled under my breath, bitching about how impossible she could be. Instead of commenting, Momma R handed me my cup of tea, steam wafting from the brew once more. I always wondered if she had a touch of hellfire in her veins.

“How can you be so calm?” I quirked a brow at the witch. “Your daughter could be putting herself in danger.”

“You mean like she does every time she follows you into battle?”

Dammit. Point to Momma R on that one.

“I’m usually saving the world,” I murmured, but didn’t say much more on that score. I did mention… “She’s not the only one affected by what’s going down.”

And I hated to admit any kind of weakness.

“Oh?” Momma R raised her eyebrows.

I seriously didn’t want to talk about my sex life with a woman I considered a mother, but I didn’t want to talk to any of the dads either. Depending on which father I spoke with first, Sam could end up in a battle to the death or being given advice on how best to make me scream his name.

“Things have been… hotter than usual. Not hellfire hot, but more between the sheets hot. I’m worried about him losing control.”

More than anything I worried about him losing control and being out of my life for eternity. I think I’d go crazy—literally—if I lost him.

“And you haven’t been visiting the temple?”

“Once or twice. To investigate.”

“Hmmm… You should avoid stopping there again. It’s possible the temple is exerting an influence we haven’t discovered yet. That could be why you and Sam were… affected.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, hating the idea that something could have happened to Sam and me when we went to the temple. “Maybe.”

Had we been targeted during the preacher’s spiel? Or by a drug in the air itself? I didn’t know, but I was determined to stay the hell away from that place.

I finished my tea and moved to leave, ignoring the rapid beeps of back and forth text messages coming from upstairs. “Keep me updated if the brat gets into more trouble or if you find any leads.”

I really, really hoped for leads.

Momma R rose and gave me a hug, her arms holding me tight. “I’ll keep looking into things and will let you know if anything turns up.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed her in return, taking comfort in her firm embrace.

I left and made a stop at Papa Al’s to pick up Bry and learned that there hadn’t been any sign of trouble from my son. He’d spaced out now and again, but there didn’t seem to be anything we could do about that. He had a healing charm from Sorsha and a protective amulet from Jezze. Until we tracked down the cause of the trouble, we didn’t have any other options.

I found Sam waiting for me when I pulled in, my mate sitting on the front step. He rose and smiled at me as I approached, and a rush of happiness filled my chest. Seeing him again made me feel good—lighthearted, happy. Maybe I felt a little too good, in fact. I stomped on the naughty thoughts spurred by the sight of my man no matter how delicious he looked in those tight leather pants he always wore. I didn’t like the idea that my lust was fueled by some supernatural force. I wasn’t going to climb Sam if there was a chance my actions weren’t my own. Especially considering the price he’d pay if I pushed him too far and he lost control.

“Hey.” I gave him a tired smile. It had been a long day. A long couple of weeks, really. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to sit on the stoop like a stranger.”

The man—gel—had a key and I’d adjusted the wards to let him in at any time, but he never went inside unless I was home.

“Uh-huh,” he whispered and moved closer, his scent invading me. “I found something you should look at.”

He held up a book and I balanced Bry while I leaned forward to read the cover in the porch’s dim light. “Mystic Communes and Cults. Riveting bedtime reading.”

His little smirk, the glint in his eyes, had my body responding to his nearness. I ached for him, going from attracted to needy in less than a heartbeat.

Which was weird since I was holding my kid. Creepy, really.

I went to the front door, hand delving into my pocket for my keys while I juggled Bryony.

“Here, lemme take him.” Sam reached out, large hands reaching for my tiny son.

I still worried about my mate—about the strength of his ties to On High. Sure, the wings etched onto his back were no longer the midnight hue of a full fallen, but they weren’t pristine white, either. They were a mixture of the two, whispers of white twined with black, and a hint of sulfur still surrounded him occasionally. His eyes often flickered from blue—the purity of On High—to red—the darkness of Hell.

But right now, it was all about blue. The color blue and the soft look he gave Bryony, the stinging sense of goodness that drifted over me from him. It hurt sometimes to be surrounded by all of that virtue while I was so obviously not, but it was worth it to have my mate at my side.

So I let Sam pull Bry from my arms and my kid just snuggled against my mate’s chest with a soft sigh and a little wiggle. Bryony buried his face against Sam’s neck, small hand fisting his shirt as if he was afraid the gel would leave.

Again.

I fought back the stinging tears that threatened to overtake me and focused on opening the front door. The panel swung inward, the wards flowing over us as we stepped across the threshold. One step into the house and my attention was snared by the television. I frowned, wondering if I’d been so tired that I’d somehow left it on. I didn’t remember even watching the TV before I left, but…

I twitched, blinking and shaking my head. It felt like I’d dozed off for a moment and I realized neither Sam or I had moved out of the entryway. The door was still wide open behind us, the zip and zap of bugs slamming against the wards filling the air. (The wards didn’t just keep tweeners, gels, and dems out of my domain. They were also badass bug killers. No gnats 4 lyfe.)

I realized I’d been staring at the TV without blinking, and that weird pinkish after-image had invaded my eyes again. I pushed myself into motion, striding into the living room with undeniable purpose. I snatched up the remote and turned off the television, cutting off the salesperson pitching his goddamn perfume. Normally I loved infomercials and spent more than I should on “As Seen On TV” amazingness, but this one made my shoulders twitchy.

I went ahead and unplugged the TV for good measure. Maybe it was just me being paranoid, but I wasn’t ready to dismiss the possibility Lucia was using the TV waves to send out some sort of subliminal message. Television was certainly a common denominator—of thousands—among the people in the city. It’d be an effective method of spreading dark magics.

I dropped the book on the coffee table and focused on putting my son to bed.

Sam followed me upstairs, Bry still cradled in his firm embrace, and we went into my son’s room. I turned down his tiny bed and stepped aside as my mate moved forward, slowly bending to lay Bryony down. A soft whimper drifted on the air, a tiny whine that I recognized as one that meant he’d wake up at any second if he wasn’t soothed. I opened my mouth to reassure him, but Sam beat me to it.

“Hush, mio cucciolo. You’re safe.” That deep voice whispering that simple word… It touched my heart. My cub. My pup. Either translation of the soft Italian worked and it was something the animal inside me loved.

Bryony sighed, relaxing in Sam’s hold and allowing the gel to lay him on the bed. The biological clock inside me tick-tick-ticked and I wondered what my child would look like—a child created between me and Sam. His blue eyes, my midnight hair, the ability to fight and kill inherited from both of us…

Then I reminded myself that a child between us would mean I’d lose Sam once again.

I stomped on my biological clock, crushing it beneath my mental boots while my mate pulled the blanket up and tucked it around Bry. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Bryony’s forehead, a softly whispered word I couldn’t hear followed by a gentle glow that flared between them. A wave of purity passed over my skin and I knew he’d blessed Bry once again.

The past flared, pushing forward in a blinding rush of emotional pain. I was reminded of the last time Sam had given Bryony a hint of divine grace.

The time he’d given Bryony what little grace remained in his soul.

My son shifted, settling into sleep with a small mumble. While I wasn’t sure what he said, it sounded like that creepy language he’d been speaking lately. I shuddered at the thought and took Sam’s place when he stepped back, giving Bryony my own gentle kiss goodnight before we left. I made sure the night light was on and I left the door open a crack so I could hear him if he needed me. My wolf was protective of its pup and that part of me would listen for any hint of distress.

I followed my mate down the stairs, settling beside him on the couch while he pulled the book close and flipped it open. I wanted to crawl in his lap until there was no space between us. Instead, I made sure there was at least six inches that separated my hips from his. I didn’t want a night of studying to turn into a night of boning. Even though part of me craved that more than my next breath.

The wolf assured me that breathing was overrated. Hell, the twisting, twining demonic nature promised me the same thing.

But I didn’t want our lovemaking to happen because we were caught up in some kind of magical curse. Our most intimate time together was meant to be real—him and me expressing our love and lust.

Not because some outside influence pushed us into bed together.

“Where’d you find this?” I ran my finger down one of the pages, scanning the aged tome with my gaze.

The symbol on the cover matched the language Bry had written on nearly every flat surface—the language of Lucia’s temple. A ball of panic lodged in my chest, attempting to slide up my throat and choke me, but I pushed it back down. Instead, I focused on flipping through the pages, eyes drifting over the symbols followed by long paragraphs written in English, each one analyzing the meanings of each scribble. This wasn’t a book of spells or grimoire. It was more academic, a teaching tool.

The kind of thing that had Jezze creaming her panties and nerding out over. I considered calling her to get her take, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. For one, I was still pissed and for another, she was probably too busy texting—or On High forbid, sexting—with her boyfriend. I didn’t need or want that kind of distraction when we were finally getting closer to an answer.

“I’ve been asking around the city, following the symbols as a lead.” His deep voice crawled beneath my skin, stroking my nerves. “Most of the tween scholars had never heard of this language and one recommended a few linguists and warlocks. I finally tracked down an old gnome librarian who loaned this to me.” Sam tapped the book, reminding me our conversation was supposed to be about Orlando’s problems, not my need to get naked.

“There are several chapters on different cults, but the first chapter seems to be the most important.”

I flipped back to the beginning of the book and the chapter titles “Tantra, Messengers, and the Naming of the Goddess.”

I read the first few pages, Sam peering over my shoulder and skimming along with me. The words filled me with both hope and dread—a happiness at finding some answers that warred with a sense of deep foreboding. It tied together some of the strange events in the city. The author of the book was apparently a scholar who’d studied religion and cults, analyzing the power behind the fanatical worshipers and the purpose of prayer.

Apparently prayer was essentially a type of psychic transmission. It sent energy from mortals and tweens to whatever god or goddess they worshiped. Those heartfelt words served as a conduit that fed power to the “divine” entity, making them grow stronger.

The scholar’s theory was that the lack of prayer was why some gods in history were now nothing more than myths. He wrote about the power that’d once rested in old Egyptian and Greek gods, when entire civilizations had worshipped them. Except when those civilizations eventually collapsed and those religions became nothing more than a memory, the power of those gods vanished.

Since no one in the modern world bowed down for Ra or Zeus, they’d become the subject of old stories and boring plays.

“That would explain some of the religious wars over the millennia,” I murmured. “If one god gets his or her worshipers in a frenzy about ‘heathens’ and ‘pagans’ worshiping a false god, they go to war. The stronger army wins, killing most of the god’s worshipers, which in turn, strips them of power.”

Sam remained silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line. I sensed his irritation and distaste for what we read, the message going against what he believed since he was a gel and all. I was sure he subscribed to the belief that there was only one big guy and he lived in the clouds. On High was the beginning and end, and the rest of the mess we dealt with was trivial.

Personally, I didn’t know enough about the divine level to say one way or another. Maybe the lesser “gods” like Zeus and Ares had never truly been gods at all. They might have simply amassed immense power through worship, prayer, and the psychic connection it forged. Flying down from the sky and tossing lightning bolts could make them seem godlike to ignorant, superstitious humans and tweeners.

They might not have had anywhere close to the power On High wielded, but that wouldn’t have stopped mortals from calling Zeus a god and treating him like one.

I continued flipping through the pages, moving on from the plethora of gods to the part that seemed to relate to the problem we had in Orlando. “According to this,” I tapped the end of the first chapter, “the symbols Bry has been writing are a psychic shortcut. It’s the ‘Language of the Goddess.’ It’s been used in the past to brainwash a bunch of people so they’ll worship a false goddess. People begin speaking the same language and thinking the same way. It unifies them under a single temple so they’ll worship and pray to the goddess.”

“And the ‘goddess’ can be just about anyone.” Sam’s jaw was tight, a vein in his temple pulsing a hard throb. “It’s magic, in essence. The influence spreads, getting people to worship a nameless, faceless figure and then the priests come in and name their goddess—invoking Lucia’s name.”

My mind rolled the truth around in my head. “Which feeds her the power of these people’s prayers.” I tapped my fingers on the book. It was one hell of a play worthy of Uncle Luc himself.

And it was just the beginning.

The rest of the chapter explained the ways the goddess’ new followers could “worship” her. Children could be targeted and used as “messengers.” They spread the word and the more who heard it, the more who became connected to the goddess. They were called “hallowed children” who had the power to “bridge the worlds,” though it wasn’t clear what that meant or how it was done.

There was more than one way for adults to “worship” their goddess, too. There were multiple references to tantric rites, where a couple’s sex was seen as a religious act. The energy produced during lovemaking channeled straight to the goddess in the same way prayer gave her psychic energy.

“So, kids spread the language of the goddess.” I frowned at the pages. “It gets into people’s heads, brainwashes them, and then they start going to the temple. There, the very act of praying sucks out their life’s energy like a succubus. And these people are doing it willingly whether they realize it or not. The priests go on and on about how any intimate union between souls is doing a service to the goddess. People think fucking is a religious experience and the more they fuck, the stronger she gets. She’s sucking the life force out of them mid-coitus.”

“Which explains the people turning up catatonic.” Sam sighed and dropped his head forward.

I slammed the book shut and leaned back against the couch, words swimming through my mind. “It happened to Mitchell and the others like him. It’s like an overdose. Lucia was sucking so much of their psychic energy, their minds snapped. She drank them dry, leaving empty shells.”

He looked over his shoulder and his next words echoed through the room. “She grows stronger with each carnal act.”

I stared at him. He stared at me.

We both scooted away from each other.

Wait, that didn’t seem like enough space. I got up and paced, slowly making it from one side of the room to the other while I tumbled the situation through my mind. “We know what she’s doing now and how. She must have figured this out and decided it was something she could tap into in order to gain more power until…”

“Until she becomes powerful enough to move against On High?”

Plausible, but it didn’t feel right. “Uncle Luc.”

Silaran had already tried to take over. It’d make sense that Lucia was still trying to succeed.

“Right.” I shook my hands and bounced on my toes, trying to shed the nervous energy filling me. “She brain-fucks everyone who walks into her temple. She gets them to transfer energy to her, which turns her into the Big Bad. And then…” I stopped and stared at Sam, hands propped on my hips. “Then what? What’s her big move? What’s the end game? We know she’s gathering power, but how do I stop her? What’s she gonna do with all of this once she’s fully charged?”

“We have no way of knowing.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“And no way of stopping her.” This was a problem with no solution. Sure, I could burn the temple to the ground, but that wouldn’t solve anything. The priests and public relations machine would spin it, turn the destruction into a hate crime, which would only bolster the cult’s strength. Then they’d set up somewhere else with their “free love” and “enhancing yourself through spiritual growth” messages.

The gullible people of the city were eating it up. No one, especially orgasmic-high enthralled humans, would believe that a false goddess was sucking psychic energy from their brains.

They’d pray. They’d fuck. They’d make Lucia even stronger.

I flopped back onto the couch at a complete loss about the next step to be taken. I was in over my head. I strutted around Orlando, telling everyone I was the shit’s bananas and that I had the town on lock-down. But I was nothing against this.

How could I put a stop to an entire religion? Well, short of getting Papa Leth to drum up a new crusade. He always said he’d enjoyed busting down the walls of Jerusalem. I wondered what he’d think of Lucia’s temple.

“We’ll figure something out.” Sam put an arm around me, draping it across my shoulders.

I pulled away from him, pushing back the pain that came with the move. It was a physical hurt, an ache that couldn’t be placated with a few words and promises of “once this is done.” I just couldn’t risk touching him. Not if our intimate contact fed tantric energy to Lucia.

“I hope you’re right.” I shook my head. “Because right now, I don’t see any way to stop her.”