I waited until Liza stopped fussing and settled back on the sofa. “We have a ghost problem in White Castle and think it might be related to your god returning to Earth.” Everyone froze. What did I do? Commit some kind of weird faux pas?
Cillian blinked once, twice. “We normally wait until after tea for in-depth shop talk.”
Called it.
“Apologies. I am on a tight timeline. Ghosts are haunting my town, and I need to figure out the cause.” They would have to put up with the fact I was being rude, because I didn’t have time for pleasantries. However, I could maybe smooth the way. I lifted the black bag and placed it on the coffee table.
“A gift,” I said, hoping Lucifer hadn’t led me wrong. I had added my own inside there.
Cillian grasped the bag and pulled out the long black feather. He smiled, and I breathed a relieved sigh. “Raven feather, and a fine specimen.” He grasped the onyx ink well next and nodded.“Thank you so much, Cora. These will make a fine addition to my desk.”
He frowned at the paper-wrapped parcel at the bottom of the bag and emptied it onto his lap before carefully prying it open.
“Cookies!” Liza exclaimed. “Oh, chocolate chip, my favorite.” She grabbed one and bit into it, trusting they were nothing but yummy treats. I wished I had that kind of faith in the world. She dispersed the cookies among the rest of the members of the sect, each making happy noises.Thank you, Maggie.
“Your ghost problem isn’t specifically anything to do with us,” Cillian answered once he’d decided enough tea had been drunk. “A rise in spirit activity is to be expected with Donn’s return.” They all made some kind of ceremonial sign over their hearts as he said his name.
“I understand that, but you aren’t responsible for the concentration of remnants?”
Cillian grimaced. “Remnants? Goodness, no. Nasty creatures. We deal with the wandering souls, not the lesser soul left behind.”
“But those are the ones responsible for things like poltergeist activity, right?” I checked.
Cillian nodded. “That’s correct. From what I understand, Eloise is using her newfound power to fuel an uprising and cause panic. But as to your hometown’s specific problem, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Which left us with the final terrifying conclusion. They were gathering to witness a visit.
“You’re being awfully candid when you serve the being responsible for this crisis,” Hudson remarked. I agreed. They weren’t even pretending to be in the dark.
Cillian spread his hands apart. “Our place is not to question Donn’s decisions, only to be the intermediary communicating his wishes.”
“And his wish is to have the world in chaos?”
Liza snorted. “Donn couldn’t give a shit about humans.”
Cillian glared at her. Okay, so there were some things they would rather not share. Liza was the weakest link, and I needed to remember that.
“My granddaughter is mistaken. Donn might not have been present for a long time, but that has nothing to do with a lack of concern. He is simply indifferent to the squabbles of mankind. If a god got involved every time someone did something utterly stupid, we’d be overrun with deities, and no one wants that. You can feel the effects just one of them returning is having.”
“So why make a deal with Eloise at all?” I wondered.
Cillian shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”
I suppressed the shudder. No, thank you.
“However, we are willing to back you in a fight against Eloise,” Cillian said.
Everyone stilled. Cookie crumbs were forgotten, the last bits of tea left to dissipate their heat.
“Forgive me, Cillian,” I said carefully. “But you serve a god that is the source of my problems. Why on earth would you reverse course? Isn’t that working against him?” Something wasn’t right. I was being manipulated, and I didn’t like it.
“Gods can change their minds,” Cillian said carefully. “The deal with Eloise is unbreakable, but if I had to guess, he wasn’t aware of what she was going to do. She’s protected, invincible to most power right now, but it won’t last forever.”
Donn made a poor business decision? I wasn’t buying it. But accusing these people of misleading us wouldn’t result in them continuing to be so pleasant and candid.
“For what price?” Hudson asked. Good question.
Cillian’s icy blue gaze narrowed. “A vial of your blood.”
