Page 2

Chapter Two

Just outside of Denver, Colorado…

Amelia Fabius stood at the back of the large outdoor assembly, doing her best to fade away from notice. She smoothed down the front of her white dress, noticing she’d gotten a bit of potting soil on the bottom. No surprise with as much time as she spent in the greenhouses at the compound. They had become her domain. She loved nature and growing things. It gave her a much-needed sense of peace.

That was one thing she’d miss about the compound when she was gone—her gardens and the greenhouses. She loved everything to do with healing and herbal remedies. It was her passion. She’d spent the greater part of the afternoon making a salve for burns. It was simple yet worked wonders. St. John’s Wort, comfrey leaves, calendula flowers, lavender, and a few other special touches come together to make a fantastic salve. It hadn’t been on her to-do list, but she’d felt compelled to make a large batch. The reserves in the main spa area had been running low anyway, so it wasn’t as if she’d wasted her time. Then again, she didn’t plan to be around to see the salve get much use.

Besides, it gave her something to do other than work on various things that were supposed to help a VIP guest who had only just left. The guest was one who made her shudder just thinking about him. She’d been tasked with coming up with new salves and remedies to help what ailed him; the problem was, she didn’t know how to fix his issues, nor had she been fully versed on what his troubles were.

In a nutshell, she’d been kept in the dark, and that was fine by her. The vibe the man had let off said he wasn’t a good guy.

That being said, she’d done her best to offer him some relief, despite her gut telling her to allow the man to suffer. She had been able to offer him something to help him sleep. It had been a special blend of natural remedies she’d been toying with. She’d made a tea with valerian root and passionflower. Getting the taste just right had taken some work, but she’d found honey did nicely.

Amelia picked a bit of dried calendula flower from under her fingernails as she glanced around the gathering, staring at so many faces who should have been friendly to her but weren’t. Very few allies were among the massive group. The area, a grove that had a clearing in it, with fallen trees that had been halved and set up as benches, was packed with people. Everyone was dressed in white, as was the standard. It promoted unity and reminded everyone that they were the same—no one better than the other (at least that was the slogan, anyway). They had their arms in the air as they held the hand of the person next to them. They swayed, singing a song in unison that was special, just for them. For their beliefs.

It spoke of having the protection of a powerful god. Of finding a path to everlasting enlightenment and riches of the spirit. Beliefs Amelia had been raised with and wholeheartedly bought into—until the blinders had been ripped from her eyes.

Since then, she saw the world around her in Technicolor—warts and all. It wasn’t full of beauty and wonder. It was full of lies, deceit, and evil. And she lived in the thick of it.

Amelia stood partially behind one of the trees, hoping to avoid detection. She didn’t want to be singled out yet knew it would happen. It always happened at impromptu gatherings. As of late, it was happening at non-impromptu ones as well.

She was a misfit among the group of followers. They knew her heart wasn’t into it, but that didn’t seem to matter. She just wanted to fade away from notice.

A tall, well-built man stood at the head of the area on a raised platform, a pulpit he preached at often. He held a book in his hand. Not a Christian bible, but a book of scripture he, himself, had written throughout his incredibly long lifespan.

She wasn’t entirely sure of his age, but it was rumored to be around three thousand years. Though the man didn’t look to be out of his twenties. There was a certain wisdom in his dark brown eyes. At times, he looked caring, nurturing even. Other times, a monster stared out from his hard gaze. His mood changed on a dime.

While his wrath had never been directly aimed at her, it had been focused on someone she’d loved dearly. She could still remember hearing the screams of her loved one. Of knowing there was nothing that could be done to help. And knowing the very man who should have given his all to keep the woman safe had been responsible for her death had driven home every warning she’d ever gotten about the man. Every red flag that had ever been raised.

He and his followers, or the Flock, as they liked to be called, had all gone off the sanity deep end long ago.

Probably before Amelia had even been born.

There was a high chance the leader had never actually been sane. Apparently, sanity wasn’t a requirement when organizing your own religion and amassing followers. Charisma, a charming smile, good looks, confidence, and power were.

Caladrius “Cal” Fabius had all those things in spades.

He held the Flock’s attention as he paced on the raised platform, gripping the Book of Peace.

She nearly choked on the irony of the title. Its teachings were anything but peaceful. His followers were hardly innocent sheep, lured by the lion into the den. They were people who blindly obeyed his every twisted command. Who did his bidding even when it was painfully clear his wishes were dark, his desires equally as perverse.

He saw himself as a god. The Flock helped to permeate that falsehood.

They blew a lot of smoke up the man’s backside.

But not Amelia.

She was a constant thorn even when she was doing her best to be a good little soldier.

For good reason.

He’d had it in his head she was going to help lead the cult into the next stage of enlightenment. That she was special, chosen, born to help usher the Flock to bliss. To nirvana. To endless power.

Amelia wanted nothing to do with any of it. Nothing to do with ushering the Flock into anything, unless it was jail cells—where they all belonged. But none of them would ever be held accountable for their actions. They’d been getting away with so much for so long that they were invincible. And their numbers grew each year as more and more wayward supernaturals found their way to the Flock. Some found a new home within the compound walls. Others were simply never found again.

She had no idea how Cal had managed to ensnare so many and get them to not only believe in him and his ideology, but to give up all their worldly possessions and follow him in whatever he did. They worked for him, running various businesses the nonprofit owned, and all the proceeds went into a communal pot (which only a few charmed Flock members had access to). The funds were used to keep the businesses running, feed and clothe the members, and to make Cal one of the richest men in the world.

He made television evangelists look like lightweight amateurs. They may have been blessed with leadership skills and the gift of charming others, but he had honest-to-gods magik. Powers that he’d been born with that helped him heal others, influence others, bend their minds to a degree—much like a vampire could. But Cal was so much better at it all. And his powers had only increased over the centuries. Amelia wasn’t even sure of everything he could do. She just knew he might very well be one of the most powerful supernaturals out there.

And why not?

He’d gained the additional power through means that were ruthless and unspeakable. Very few could stand against him.

She didn’t understand the sheep and their obedience. Then again, she’d been born with an independent streak. One her mother had feared would get Amelia punished or harmed by Cal. So far, it had only served to help her, but she suspected her time was limited in that respect. There was only so far she could push Cal before he’d push back. It didn’t matter who she was to the man.

She’d seen him direct his rage at Flock members before.

It was horrific.

And even as traumatizing as witnessing his fury had been, Amelia still refused to bend to his every whim, to conform, to be a brainless, mindless twit. She saw through him and his silver tongue. His false promises and prophecies that never came to be.

He’d predicted the end of the world twice that she was aware of. Neither time had it occurred. Amelia had been scared that Cal would do something drastic and either launch an attack against humans and their government or talk all of the Flock into a mass suicide. The only saving grace was that he was too bent on achieving ultimate power and control to check out on life. And he needed the Flock to reach his goals.

At least for now.

When the day came that he didn’t need them anymore, they’d all be dead. They were disposable in his mind. She was sure of it. What she wasn’t sure of was why none of them seemed to wise up and smell the cult leader. He didn’t have them on a path to enlightenment and better days. He had them on a highway to hell.

She’d have thought the fact the world had not ended on any of Cal’s predicted end dates would have proven Cal to be a fraud or, at the very least, mentally unstable.

But no.

The Flock didn’t question him.

When the supposed end came and went, with no one dead and the world still standing, Cal explained it away. Saying the great gods had been testing the Flock. That it had been a way to prove their loyalty. He drove home the fact his visions were shown to him in a way that he had to interpret, and since he was a man, error was possible.

The sheep, as she liked to call them, bought it hook, line, and sinker.

He could do no wrong.

To them, Cal was the embodiment of perfection and a higher power. To her, he was a nightmare. She didn’t need to be told that she was fast running out of time before he’d do what he’d been promising to do since she was born—force her to lure some supposed Bringer of Change into the Flock. Some powerful being who was going to either take the Flock to new heights of enlightenment or destroy them.

She really hoped it was the latter.

It would serve Cal right if his savior actually turned out to be his destroyer.

“Prepare thyself for the upcoming trials. For the battle that is upon us. The time is now,” he said, his voice booming out and over the large crowd. He didn’t need a microphone, yet there was a sound system there just in case. “A vision has come to me. The gods and goddesses have seen fit to give me the knowledge that the Bringer is nearly upon us. His arrival will test our resolve. Test our dedication and loyalty. We may even be required to take up arms to defend our way of life. Some of our own may even turn their back on the cause.”

Whispers and gasps made their way through the crowd. Accusatory looks flew between the members as each tried to figure out who among them would betray the Flock. Amelia nearly raised her hand. She intended to betray them all.

“Do you have what it takes to stand up to this test?” asked Cal of the group. “Is your faith strong enough? Are you ready to move to our next evolution?”

Amelia had to use all her willpower to avoid rolling her eyes at Cal’s statement. He’d been doomsday prepping ever since she could remember. So far, the end hadn’t occurred. Didn’t mean he stopped getting his followers ready. Though he normally just said that one day the Bringer would arrive. This speech sounded a lot like he was expecting the Bringer guy to show up at the front door of the compound at any minute with bells on—or in the Flock’s case, dressed all in white since that was the standard outfit among them.

“We will not back away from this challenge. We will rise up out of the darkness,” said Cal, his long dark hair hanging down to his midback. He wore loose-fitting white cotton pants and a tunic-like baggy top. The shirt was cut lower in the front, showing off his muscular chest. He was barefoot, only serving to lend to his peaceful-guru-hippie vibe. To most, he was handsome, intelligent, and the answer to their prayers.

To Amelia, he was a madman.

One she’d been unable to totally break from, despite the effort and sacrifice that had been made to do so.

She lowered her gaze, wanting to avoid crying. She’d spent enough tears on the man. She’d give him no more. Not if she could help it. He was beyond redemption.

“We will walk in the light. We shall no longer be forced to live in secret. We will be the ones who marshal in the times of peace and prosperity,” he said, grinning in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.

The Flock hummed together, nodding, hanging on his every word. As usual, they were enthralled.

Sheep.

She caught Cal’s word choice—marshal. He most certainly would enforce changes on the world if given the chance. Though she doubted anyone would think they were better off.

She continued to hang back, wondering why the emergency meeting had been called. Could it be his message about the Bringer really meant he believed it to be happening now? Normally, they only met as a group twice a week for sermon and worship. But the sound system had played the calling bells only an hour before, signaling a gathering. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to attend. Well, all but the children and a few select adults who watched over the young ones.

There weren’t many children in the Flock, but the few the group had were not included in the meetings. Nor were they permitted access to the main compound building at the resort the group owned, operated, and lived on the grounds of.

The cult, for lack of a better term, had many faults. Keeping the little ones from seeing anything they shouldn’t didn’t tend to be one of them. Though they had failed in that respect two years back, and once before that as well.

The latter had been a night she would never forget. It was the night she’d first seen her father attack her mother, his intent to kill her. He’d unleashed a fury on her mother the likes of which Amelia had never seen before. He would have killed her then and there had it not been brought to his attention that she was expecting. The child was newly formed but there all the same. That had been the only thing that had stopped Amelia’s father from completing what he’d set out to do.

It had saved her mother’s life that night and given them the opportunity to flee, but ultimately, it had not been enough to prevent the inevitable.

The death of Amelia’s mother at the hands of her father.

Tonight marked the two-year anniversary of her mother’s passing. No one had ever paid for the crime. Mostly because within the Flock, the act had not been seen as law-breaking at all, but rather fitting punishment for going against Father.

Amelia nearly gagged at the fact the Flock called Cal Father when he’d not actually fathered any of them. In all his thousands of years, the man had only had two children—Amelia and her sister, Andie.

And he’d then murdered their mother right before their very eyes.

Andie, who was now just over the age of four, was tucked away in her bed, being watched over by adults who specialized in caring for children. For all the caregivers’ faults and their stupidity in buying into the cult’s rhetoric, they were good to the children. Unless, of course, they were all forming a circle around someone they saw as a threat to them and their way of life. Then they were downright terrifying.

“I’ve called you all here on this night to tell you the time is upon us,” said Cal, causing a ripple of gasps to go through the large crowd. “The one we have waited for is nearly here.”

They lowered their hands, all of them falling silent as they stared up at their leader.

He offered a smile that was meant to be reassuring. “I have seen it. The one who will usher in change is nearly upon us. He will arrive any day now.”

The crowd cheered, having waited so long for this special someone Cal often spoke of. Most of the cult members were hundreds of years old. Being immortal allowed for that. Even with all those years under their belts, they still allowed themselves to be brainwashed.

They bought into hype.

Into madness.

“Is he the bringer of light or darkness?” asked one of the followers in the front row.

Cal stroked his long, well-kept black beard. “Time will tell. I have hope that the Bringer will lead the Flock in my stead.”

He’d been talking about who would take over the Flock from him since Amelia was little. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. For one, he was immortal and one of the most powerful supernaturals out there. For two, he would never willingly hand over control of the Flock. He liked being seen as a god in their eyes far too much to walk away from it all. He’d already proven he picked the cult above all else.

“One of our very own, as predicted, will be instrumental in bringing him into the fold,” said Cal, looking up and over the crowd. His dark gaze landed on her and his smile widened.

She stiffened.

He pointed to her. “Amelia, come. Join me.”

She took a small step back, only to find herself being shoved forward by a woman who got on her last nerve.

Susan was a medium-height blonde woman who desperately wanted to be Cal’s main love interest. Problem was, he wasn’t really a one-woman kind of man. No. He preferred to bed nearly all the women in the cult. It didn’t matter if they were already paired off with a male. They were fair game. And the men in the cult saw it as an honor to have their women selected to bed Father.

The men also had no issue sharing their significant others with one another. Some of the rituals of the Flock were nothing more than huge orgies.

“Come, daughter,” he said, still holding his arm out. “Join me in your rightful place—by my side.”

The Flock cheered as Amelia walked slowly toward the platform. She felt a lot like she was on death row, doing a last walk on the way to the electric chair. In place of death would come the taint of darkness that would never wash off.

Susan stayed directly behind Amelia, forcing her in the direction of the stage. Amelia had half a mind to turn around and claw the woman’s eyes out, but she held back. Already her plan for escape had been set into motion. She wouldn’t risk it now over someone as pathetic as Susan.

All eyes fell onto Amelia as she made her way to her father.

When she was close enough to the platform, her father’s security team, who were called his advisors but were really just muscle, converged on Amelia. Taggert, the scariest one of them all, made sure he was the one who touched Amelia. He grabbed her hips tighter than need be and lifted her with ease, setting her on the platform. He then ran his hands over her in a manner that was anything but appropriate, but in a way that others couldn’t see.

Her father took hold of her hand quickly, steadying her. He drew her closer and kissed her temple. “Sweet daughter, the day is near for you to fulfill your destiny. You will ensure the Bringer of Change comes to be with us. You are the glue that will hold him to us.”

Amelia’s gaze flickered downward to Taggert, who stood at the base of the platform with his arms crossed over his massive chest and a look of pure hatred on his face. She already knew his thoughts on the entire Bringer of Change. He wanted the man killed. He thought the change the man ushered in would be the end of the Flock.

Amelia could only hope Taggert was right.

That someone would put an end to the madness.

Taggert also had a warped idea in his head that Amelia would accept a forced mating to him, and he’d then inherit the Flock one day. Not likely. Amelia would never mate with him, forced or not. And Cal didn’t seem to be in any hurry to increase Taggert’s responsibilities, as if he felt Taggert was already working to his capacity.

Cal lifted Amelia’s hand in the air and the crowd cheered louder. “It’s important we all be prepared for the arrival of the Bringer of Change. You all know what must be done.”

A round of yeses came from the people.

Cal motioned for one of his men to bring him his acoustic guitar. They did, and he looked to Amelia, giving her a slight nod. She didn’t want to join him in song and worship. She wanted to go back to the cabin she shared with her sister and then head out to meet with a contact. The impromptu gathering was cutting into her time for the evening. Already she’d be late enough as it was.