Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

#Chapter 321 – The Cult

Cora

About three hours later I am…over books. As a genre, in their entirety.

My hands are dusty, and I’m sick of the smell of musty old pages, and they’re just so boring –

Page after

page of history regarding shifter worship practices – who genuflected to this god, and how, and where, and for how long, and the minute changes in the practices…

I groan, pushing my twentieth book away from me and looking dourly at the stack of about fifty still left in my pile.

“Come on, Cora,” Roger says, sitting comfortably across from me, smirking at me over the edge of a neat little green text. “You’re supposed to be the smart one in the family. I thought you’d have more staying power than this.”

“Ella’s smart,” I reply, immediately defensive. He nods, conceding the point. “But you gave me all the dusty books,” I sigh, frowning and pulling the next one off the top of the pile and towards me. I cough when it raises a puff of dust into the air on its way.

“I gave you all the ones with more pictures,” Roger murmurs, closing his book and reaching for his next as well. “Wanted to make it easy on you.”

My mouth drops open in a little outrage at his implication there but then I see the upturned corner of his lip. “Liar,” I say, smiling down at my book as I open the cover. The title page reads A Complete History of the Cults of the Dark God, 1862. “You just didn’t want to get your hands and clothes dusty touching all these old ones.” Passively, I gesture to my clothes – which are indeed covered in a light layer of grey library dust.

“You’ve got a little on your ass,” Roger murmurs indifferently. “Come here, I’ll help you brush it off.”

I smirk, shaking my head, but ignore him and continue to page through the book. This one, to Roger’s point, is indeed heavily illustrated, with many pictures of occult ceremonies and practices that I find fascinating, if not a little disturbing. I’m letting my eyes drift over the description of a summoning ceremony when I turn the page and –

I stop, frozen.

in front of me.

him – not precisely, the face is not the same – but of course it’s not, then he’d be over one hundred years old

breathe, and his attention is instantly on me. “I

takes up three quarters of a page and shows a monk with a partially shaved head striding through a forest in a dark robe, tied at the waist with a rope from which charms

reverence.

nuyer

uns what you saw,

remembered in the moment. I’m sorry about that – but the charms, and the rod and and something about the hair

of his fingers suddenly light on my lower back, not brushing against

detail all at

nod, and then we both lean forward,

of the Goddess, which professed at mission of peace between all living things. What is known of their stated mission – passed from brother to brother, never written down – emphasizes hierarchy, war, and discord between peoples. in order to honor their lord, the God of Darkness, who they understand

the page, seeking more, but am shocked and disappointed to find that that’s the end. “That’s it?”

turning the page back and pointing to the picture. “Are you sure that this is precisely what you

it was like déjà vu. Just an immediate return to those memories. If I had seen that

–

see

against him for a moment in a quick hug and then releasing me. “Look through the rest of the book if anything else rings a bell. I’m going to go call Sinclair, get his team working on finding

and quickly looking through the pages, my mind whirling. What the hell was this cult? And what on earth can they want with

works in opposition his

light again on the phrase “blood sacrifice” and my heart drops to my