Page 51 of Insidious Monsters
“Bertie, every second counts here. You know me. You know I work for the Order. I’m just doing my job here.”
He nodded quickly. “Okay, let me grab it.” He headed to the back counter to retrieve a notebook. “Would have been easier to send you with Reggie, though.”
“Reggie?”
“The customer before you guys. He works for Margie.”
Shit. Archie and I exchanged glances.
“That look on his face…” Archie said.
“Yep, he recognized us.”
Which meant he’d tip off Margie. We had to move. “Bertie, I’m gonna need that address. Now.”
* * *
The residential townhousewas a three-minute drive from Roll With It. Tucked away between similar buildings, it was an innocuous hideout for a cult, but I guess that was the whole point.
Reggie couldn’t have gotten back long before us, even if he drove, so there was no way they could have cleared out. The street was empty and silent as Archie and I crossed the road to the house.
The Night Guild operatives parked up the street out of view of anyone looking out through the windows of the property.
The plan was for Archie and me to gain entrance, then the Night Guild would come charging in once we had access to the building and confirmed Margie was in residence.
If the cult attacked us, even better.
I climbed the steps to the house and knocked on the door. God, it was weird knocking so politely to be let into the den of the evil fuckers who’d killed seven mystics and almost my best friend.
No answer.
Archie grabbed the handle and twisted. The door swung open. He released it quickly. “Whoa, I was gonna rattle it all angry-like.”
“Technically we’re not breaking and entering if the doors open.”
“And the residents are cold-blooded killers.”
“True.”
We locked gazes and Archie nodded. “I’ll lead the way.”
The door swung wide as he entered. I followed him into the dingy hallway. The smell hit me straight away, coppery and fresh.
Blood.
“Archie?”
“Yeah, I smell it.” Several doors led off from the entranceway. We took the first one and stepped into a scene from a horror movie.
What had once been a regular lounge space was now a crime scene littered with dead bodies. Human dead bodies. And propped up against the fireplace like a marionette with its strings clipped was a very dead Margie.
Archie laced his fingers on top of his head, staring at the massacre. “Motherfu—”
“What the hell?” Devyn cut in from behind us.
Officers spilled into the room, weapons at the ready, not that they would discharge them on humans. Even if they were murderers.
Dead murderers now.
