Harley Merlin and the Cult of Eris (Harley Merlin, #6)

“So quit your whining.”

I wished we still had Astrid’s camera-tampering device, but trying to sneak in with what we already had was risky enough. And that device wasn’t exactly small. Still, at least we wouldn’t have had to go traipsing through creature-infested rainforest. I was admittedly glad to have Finch’s sharp sense of direction and his knowledge of the cult’s intricate layout.

We stumbled out of the rainforest about fifteen minutes later, finding ourselves in a secluded inlet of the island’s beautiful beach. Ahead sat a huge beach house, with white-washed walls and balconies stretching out from every window. A porch wrapped around the entire ground floor, with swinging loveseats and wicker armchairs. It didn’t exactly fit with what I’d imagined Katherine’s private residence to look like, given how… well, nice it was.

“This way,” Finch whispered. I followed him along a seashell path toward the back of the house, where he ducked down to unearth the doors of a storm shelter. It was hidden behind some huge potted palm trees, which he quickly shoved out of the way. Working his magic on the lock, he opened the right-hand door and slipped inside, with me hurrying after him.

It turned out that the storm shelter had been made into some kind of wine cellar, with rows upon rows of dusty, expensive-looking bottles lining the walls. There were wooden boxes, too, which seemed to whisper to me as I went past. Grimoires? Whatever they were, I wasn’t going to get the chance to take a closer look, since Finch was already heading for the door out of there.

He opened it and peered into the hallway beyond before beckoning for me to follow him. We tiptoed down the darkened corridor, eventually reaching a narrow set of wooden stairs and heading up them. With every step I made, paranoia gripped me. One misplaced foot, one creak, and we’d be done for. Finch didn’t seem nearly as bothered. He pushed open the door at the top and took another look around.

In silence, we escaped the subterranean depths of Katherine’s house and entered the main body of it. I gasped at the beautiful kitchen spread out before me, with a granite-topped breakfast island and walls that had been tiled with sea glass and mother-of-pearl. Everything looked way too quaint and pretty to be Katherine’s, but then, what was I expecting? Dungeons, chains, fire, and brimstone?

Key? I mouthed to Finch.

He frowned and shook his head, pointing farther up the hallway. I rolled my eyes and followed him.

Finch led me out into the main hall, where calming seascapes adorned the bird-egg blue walls. A wide staircase led up to the first floor, the steps seemingly carved from reclaimed driftwood, but it didn’t look as though we were headed that way. Instead, Finch ushered me down the main hall toward a room at the very back of the house. As we edged along, I peered into the other rooms we passed. There was an elegant lounge behind one, with huge sofas and an endless array of books, and a bathroom with a tub the size of a pool and a rainforest shower that I would’ve given anything to stand under.

We stopped beside the last door in the hallway, which was partially closed. I ducked down beside Finch, the two of us crouched low. From inside, I could hear the rumble of a familiar voice. Katherine’s voice. And, while I couldn’t quite see her, I could make out the bedroom through the gap in the doorway. It was dimly lit, the windows shrouded in gauzy curtains. And, instead of a bed, there was a casket of some kind, set in the center of the room. What the heck? Is she a vampire or something?

The casket had glass walls instead of the usual wood—and there was a man inside. He looked ancient, his skin purplish and wrinkled like a raisin, his body unmoving.

I glanced at Finch and opened my mouth, but he lifted a finger to his lips. If I said a word, Katherine would hear us, even though she seemed pretty intent on enjoying her “personal time” with whoever this dead guy was.

“I thought of you today, Grandfather,” she said softly. “It has been a good day—one you’d be proud of.”

Oh my God, that’s Drake Shipton! The realization smacked me in the face, making me feel sick. How long had that guy been dead? And why did Katherine have him in her bedroom? This was all getting a bit too Psycho for me.

“We had two new members join today. You’d like them, particularly the girl. That goes without saying, huh? She’s got fire in her belly, that’s for sure, but I’ll have to keep my eye on both of them. Bold is good, but I can’t have it getting us in trouble.” She paused. “The rest are out collecting artifacts and rare magicals to add to our ranks. Everything is going as planned, and each day I take a step closer to fulfilling your dream, on your behalf. You might not be able to become a Child of Chaos, but I will… for you. I’ve only managed to get this far because of you, Grandfather. I won’t disappoint you now.”

This was beyond creepy, even for Katherine. She had her grandfather’s body in a glass case and was telling him about her day, insisting this was all for him and not for her own self-gratification. I had to be partially thankful that he was behind a glass case, and she wasn’t snuggling up to him or sitting in his lap to tell him everything. I shuddered and realized we should probably get out of here before Katherine finished up her game of show-and-tell.

Where’s the key? I mouthed.

Not here, Finch replied.

Terrified we’d get caught, I pointed to the kitchen, at the top of the hallway, and Finch nodded. If there was no key, then we were going to have to get into the library the old-fashioned way—through the front door. Guards or no guards. Moving stealthily away from the door, we made a quick exit, running back through the wine cellar and the storm doors, and back into the relative safety of the rainforest.

Pausing to catch my breath, I stared up at Finch. “What in the name of everything that is ordinary and normal was that?”

He laughed. “I did warn you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t warn me I was going to see Katherine yakking to a freaking corpse!”

“Not technically a corpse.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Finch. That was a dead guy! And, since she was calling him ‘Grandfather,’ I can only assume it was Drake Shipton. Geez, man, you could have prepared me, at least.” I sank down on the ground as a wave of nausea crashed over me.

“Oh, it’s so much more messed up than that. He’s not dead, he’s just half dead. Katherine had him resurrected a while back, for ‘emotional comfort.’ That purple color to his skin is where the Necromancy went wrong. When he died, he ordered her to lock his spirit to the earth, same way Hester’s is, so she’d be able to bring him back in the future. But the Necromancer botched it, when the time came, and that shriveled prune up there is the result,” he explained. “Katherine was so mad at the Necromancer that she killed him. So, now there are only four left. One of them being Alton. Not that she’ll ever get her hands on him.”

I realized that Finch didn’t know just how close Katherine had come to pulling Alton’s strings, but it didn’t seem like the time to mention it. Instead, I focused on Finch’s story and tried not to hurl at the idea of a botched Necromancy. Not to mention Katherine dragging her grandpa back from the dead for some “emotional comfort.” How messed up could this woman get?