Chapter 5
Devil sat by the fire, watching as the others talked quietly in pairs around the room. Something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. At first, he'd thought Neon was right—the shift in energy was because Petra was acting differently. He'd felt it in her when he'd fucked her with Goblin. The energy stream had felt different as he'd channeled it away from her, and her submission had been...softer...more willing.
But watching his brothers now, he thought there was more to it than that. Stitches was laughing too loud, and if Devil didn't know better, he'd think the guy was avoiding him. Snake seemed uncomfortable. He wasn't a fidgeter, but he was shifting in his seat and playing with a flick knife. Even Neon was off. Something had happened, but he didn't know what and no one was talking.
Clearing his throat, he waited until all eyes were on him and then said, "Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"
Ghost looked to him. “Plague and I have figured out how we will deal with her before dawn. He will go up shortly and lead her down to the gardens, where I will finish the game.”
"That's not what I was asking." Devil shook his head. "You're all twitchy as fuck. Did something happen?"
“Oh. Then I don’t know,” Ghost said. He was always the first one to speak up, especially if a question was asked, but he wasn’t acting off like the others.
Neon sighed, his modulator off. “She’s different, and it’s got me off balance,” he offered. “She wants it, begged for it. Called my name when she came.” They all knew how unusual that was. When they’d had her before, she had never acknowledged them by name. “It’s just throwing me off. Got me thinking that she does actually want this in a different way.”
"What about you guys?" Devil turned to Stitches and Snake.
"She was more mouthy than usual." Snake shrugged. "Maybe a bit more clingy than usual, too, but then you know I don't get that close to her."
Devil frowned, certain that Snake wasn't telling him everything, but he didn't want to push. Not tonight, not when their harmony as a team was important. "Stitches?" He turned to the other man and wished for once that they didn't have their masks on. Stitches' face was an open book, but behind that dead, stitched skin, it was impossible to tell.
"What Neon said." Stitches shrugged. "She begged for it. Wanted it. Said some nonsense about fantasizing about it all year round."
“That is interesting,” Goblin mused. “But not out of the realm of possibility. I mean, we have made it our business to keep her isolated from other men, hell women, if her day to day is any indication. She only talks to friends online. Doesn’t have a life outside of work or the volunteering at that shelter. It’s plausible that she sees us as more than tormentors or a pact. She is a twisted little thing.”
"What are you saying?" Devil frowned. "What's not out of the realm of possibility?"
“That she wants more,” Goblin said, turning completely to him. “Surely you felt the difference tonight? I mean, she didn’t struggle, didn’t fight it and, fuck, that release from her was so fucking potent... He will be pleased, more so than he has been before.”
"Yeah, but 'wants more'? What the fuck is that supposed to look like?" Devil shrugged. "There's no point her being here the rest of the year. The veil is only thin enough to feed the Dark God tonight and tomorrow night. If we wanted a more permanent or frequent arrangement, or if we wanted to think about bringing in a woman to start having kids, we'd have to petition the Elders. It's a risk. I'm not sure they'd take it.”
Goblin shrugged. “I don’t know what that looks like. I do know that she’s different, and I know she’s lonely. Seeing her at yoga weekly, it’s just the feeling I get. She’s isolated herself because of us.”
Neon sighed once more. “I don’t know, either, but I said it before—I feel like we have only been given part of the story. How the fuck is He Who Sleeps supposed to subsist on two nights a year, especially on singular blood sacrifices? Our fathers had our mothers full-time for a few years, and you cannot tell me that they didn’t have approval from the Dark God for it. You can’t tell me they didn’t hold rites in that time, either. If they were fucking, He was feeding.”
Their fathers were all gone except Ghost’s, who was an Elder. The others had all been sacrificed to the Dark God when the seven came of age to take over their sect. It was the natural progression, according to the Elders, and Neon had long talked about how things didn’t add up. It seemed he was thinking about it again and, to a certain extent, he had a point. None of them knew the full details of what had happened to their mothers, or how their fathers' sect worked. By the time any of them were old enough to observe the rites, their mothers were long gone.
“We do have rules,” Goblin broke his train of thought, “but who is to say Neon isn’t right? There is so much we have been told but they’ve never backed it up with a scripture or a ritual.”
Devil couldn't believe he was about to say this. "Do you...we, collectively, want to go to the Elders then? Demand answers? Ask to keep her? Are you prepared for what the fall-out from that might be? Excommunication from The Order? Even death. Do you all want her enough that you would risk all of that?"
"I would." Stitches was the first to answer, surprising no one. "She's not the only one that's lonely and fantasizing."
“Yes,” Neon agreed with a nod. “We have leverage right now. By all accounts, we’re raising more power with her than any other group is with the regular sacrifices, and it’s getting more potent every year.” Their own coffers were filled, the Dark God rewarding them with both power and influence.
“He is right, Devil,” Ghosty said. “Stephan confirmed it to me personally. He asked me how we were doing it and I couldn’t say because I didn’t know. The only difference is her.” Stephan, Ghost’s father, for all his Elder status, kept up with his progeny and kept them in the know.