Of Gods and Sorrow (Of Blood and Sorrow Book 2)
OF GODS AND SORROW
Of Blood and Sorrow, Book #2
Christine Rains
Of Gods and Sorrow (Of Blood and Sorrow #2)
Christine Rains | Copyright 2018
Kindle Edition
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This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events, or occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Summary: Stopping the undead will seem like child's play when the Cult of Ammut comes calling.
Even after losing most of her adopted family, Erin Driscol continues to console clients at Putzkammer & Sons Funeral Home. Keeping the funeral business working smoothly is no longer the walk in the graveyard it used to be. Grieving demons are fighting in the halls. Eyeballs are showing up in teapots. And a so-called psychic and member of the Cult of Ammut claims Erin's boss Cort is a god. All Erin wants is a friend to lean on and a sense of normalcy. But as the cult kills people and repeatedly attacks the funeral home, she must stand strong or lose Cort to the Lake of Fire.
Cover design: Christine Rains
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Other Works by Christine Rains
Acknowledgments
About the Author
I
was surrounded by dead men. And not just the two corpses on the carts on either side of me. I worked with demons, trained with a killer, and played with vampires. Or I did do the latter. Until Nicolas ran off.
It’d been ten months since vampires killed most of my adopted family. The Putzkammers were victims of my mistake. I helped a fledgling when his cruel sire wanted him back. Only the Putzkammers’ eldest son Cort survived, and as a constant reminder of my folly, I worked in the mortuary with Paul, their second son. The only one not killed by vampires.
Because I had killed him. For working with our enemy.
It wasn’t Paul himself who was Putzkammer & Sons’ Funeral Home’s mortician. The demon’s name was Zaphkiel, and he had taken Paul’s face and name. I’d voted against his being here, but Cort needed a mortician and Zaphkiel needed a job after losing his leg fighting a vampire.
At least Zaphkiel kept to himself and was almost as good as Paul had been at his job. Zaphkiel had a personal relationship with the dead being an Allu demon. He could wear the face of any dead person, but he had worn Paul’s face for so long I wondered if he could change it now.
“Pay attention. You’re pushing past the artery.” Zaphkiel had Paul’s voice down pat. Quiet and even toned.
I returned my focus to the arm of Jacob Whittaker and eased the needle I’d inserted back a little. Jacob had been over two hundred when he passed away, but his arms were still as thick as a Venice Beach weightlifter’s.
“You got it.” Zaphkiel hobbled around the table and reached to knead the plastic bag on the IV pole. “The sap’s still a good consistency. Whittaker will need it once he’s replanted.”
Kapre demons like the big one in front of me, could be reborn if properly nurtured. Modern technology helped revive their nearly extinct kind. The modern world helped many of us lead normal lives which would not have been possible a hundred years ago.
“You’re quiet today.” He put a hand on my shoulder, and I winced. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong was that he wore Paul’s face, and I had to stare at the friend I’d murdered every day. What was wrong was I missed Nicolas when he was the asshole vampire who cheated on me. What was wrong was the fact Abdiel had dislocated my shoulder in our training session that morning, and it still throbbed.
I gave him a small smile. “Rough training session this morning. I’m lucky I can use my arm right now.”
“Then the training wasn’t rough enough.” Zaphkiel returned to the knives he was sharpening. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. With him being an Allu demon, I leaned to the former.
Abdiel had no mercy in teaching me to fight. One time when I hadn’t fed in a few days, he’d broken three of my ribs. Not so long ago, I had been terrified of the Allu. The faceless killers were my boogie men. My mother had terrified me with stories of them when I was a child. Now I no longer saw them as mysterious monsters. Instead, their savagery was as clear as day.
Whittaker’s body twitched. I sucked in a breath. He wasn’t going to rise. That happened just once. It wouldn’t happen again. Abdiel had exterminated all vampires within a fifty-mile radius of South Bend, Indiana. Plus, Cort had taken special magical measures to assure no more vampires ended up in our basement.
Logic had little influence over my heart these days.
“Erin!” This time, I did startle. Cort’s voice echoed down from the top of the stairs. “Come up when you have a moment.”
“Go on.” Zaphkiel waved me out. “I’ve got everything handled here.”
“Thanks.” I removed my gloves and apron before washing my hands. Yanking down my sleeves, I covered the brown spots on my arms. Once I’d hated the spots because they reminded me of my mother. These days, they were a reminder of Nicolas. He had thought them sexy.
I breathed out a sigh as I left the mortuary and walked up the concrete stairs to the main floor of the funeral home. The light scent of lavender teased my nose. It calmed grievers and covered up any odors that might sneak up from below. Sometimes the smell of certain dead demons could cause me to lose my breakfast into the trash can.
Glancing from left to right as I entered the main floor corridor, I shut the basement door behind me. Silence greeted me, and I savored it. Later that evening, all three viewing suites would be packed. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy my job, but there had been very few nights off for me recently. Cort brought in new clients from all over the country and never took a day for himself.
I ran my fingers along the wall as I walked. New paint, new wallpaper, new tables, vases, paintings, lights, and floors. All the touches Aleo and Bolona Putzkammer had given the funeral home over the decades erased. The new look was modern and clean. Pale grays, charcoal, and white. Bouquets of flowers added the only bright spots of color. Completely Cort.
My shoes tapped on the marble
floor as I turned down the main hall toward Cort’s office. I readied myself for whatever task he had for me. Accounting, inventory, or listening to his plans about expansion. I’d rather be assisting people when they came in or in the quiet of the basement, but Cort wanted me to know about all the aspects of the business since the place would go to me if something happened to him.
Nothing would happen to him. I’d make certain of it. He just better get on to producing an heir sometime soon.
I rolled my eyes at myself. Now I sounded like my landlord, Demi–also known more respectfully as the Lady. She’d taken over the motherly role in Cort’s life since Bolona had been murdered. I didn’t know what was more of a nightmare for Cort: having the Lady pursue him as a mate or having her act as his mother.
My mouth quirked up as I stopped to knock on Cort’s open door. He motioned to me to come in as he continued his conversation on the phone.
A big desk of dark wood drew the eye’s attention away from the file cabinets in the far corner and the tall long leafed plant in the opposite corner. The plant had seen better days. It needed a window, which the room didn’t have.
I sat in one of the charcoal chairs in front of the desk and stretched out my legs. Hardly ladylike, but I had never been a cross-your-legs-at-your-ankles type. I ran a hand through my hair and caught a glimpse of an envelope on the desk addressed to me.
Focusing in, I could see the Virginia return address. My stomach tightened as I gripped the arms of the chair.
Only one thing would be coming to me from the south. I’d been trying to find out more about my father. My mother had stated he was some random human, but with my new found strength, it could be she had lied. And there would be no surprise in that. The bitch had been a monster in every possible way.
I might not be a half-demon, a mutt. My father could have been a demon too. Another phage like me? Perhaps. I wouldn’t know until I found him.
I’d been born in Virginia. Of course, I had no memory of living there as my mother moved us around a lot, but she had to live and work somewhere then. I’d emailed the hospitals in the state, asking for my birth certificate. It should have my father’s name, but if it didn’t, they’d have the address my mother lived at during that time.
Licking off the perspiration on my upper lip, I resisted the urge to dart forward and grab the envelope. I hadn’t bothered Cort with my search. Not that I wouldn’t tell him if I found something, but he had enough on his plate these days.
Cort said his goodbye and set his cell on his desk as he grinned. “Our first Sasquatch client. Her family is flying her in from Alaska. I think this will open us up to a whole new realm of clientele.”
My chin dropped slightly. “Bigfoot? How did they find us?”
“The internet.” Cort shrugged. Of course. Everyone used the internet these days, even, it seemed, Bigfoot. “Their burial ground is now too close to a mining operation. It isn’t safe for them to give their bones back to the land. With our unique crematorium, they can at least spread the ashes.”
We had the only crematorium in the world capable of reducing any demon to ash. Important when someone didn’t want humans to know their kind existed.
“They’ll be here in a few days. It’ll take a while to fly even with their own plane.”
And now Bigfoot had his own personal plane too. My gaze drifted to the envelope. “So what did you need?”
“I decided to bring in security this evening. The Azeban will be in, and I don’t want them disturbing the other mourners. And with the Futakuchi coming too, you see why I want things under control.” Cort turned his chair and sat. He laced his fingers, clearly waiting for the protest he expected from me.
I should have looked at the schedule for tonight. The Azeban were tricksters, and while they wouldn’t dare steal or cause mischief for the Putzkammers or the business, they sometimes couldn’t help themselves when it came to other demons. As for the Futakuchi, they had no tolerance for those who didn’t have respect.
To top it off, security meant Abdiel would be here likely with other Allu demons. One dirty look or snide comment and they would take it as a cue to fight. It was a recipe for disaster.
I leaned forward and pressed my hands together. There was no point in challenging Cort’s decision. He booked clients for mornings, afternoons, and evenings. Most preferred the evenings though, and we usually had a full house. I had suggested he plan out the schedules to avoid mingling demons that wouldn’t get along, but he simply stated we couldn’t control when someone died.
Saying anything about the Allu, too, would be pointless. Abdiel was like Cort’s best friend these days, or as much as either of them could be said to have a best friend. Or in Abdiel’s case, any friends. Abdiel would be fine for security, but he insisted on hiring other Allu to help. Maybe it was his way of keeping the peace in the Allu community, because not one of them liked the other, and with Abdiel the most powerful of the lot, many wanted to kill him to prove they were better.
I pressed the sides of my hands to my chin before straightening and nodding. “Security will be good. I’ll make sure we have enough tea and cups for the Futakuchi.” I stood and stepped toward his desk, closer to the envelope. “Anything else?”
“I didn’t think about the tea. Thank you, Erin.” Cort relaxed and ran his hands over his head. His short shorn blond hair smoothed back, making him look like a cover model for a modern romance novel. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. And I think Abdiel nearly cracked my skull when we were training yesterday.”
At least I wasn’t the only one having a rough time training. “You want to talk about it?”
“Is there a way you could get the Lady to stop setting me up on blind dates?” He shook his head and leaned back. “Forget it. It would do no good and only remind her that she hasn’t set you up on any dates.”
I wanted to laugh but shuddered instead. “Yeah, let’s not go there. I’m happy being single.” Sorta. I hadn’t been lonely before Nicolas, but after he’d left, something in me ached for that space to be filled. I loathed the feeling and ignored it as much as I could. “Just be grateful she hasn’t set you up with one of her sisters.”
“She has sisters?” Panic flashed through his eyes.
This time I did laugh. “No. Not that I know of.”
He smiled. A genuine smile. I didn’t see those much anymore. “Go on. Check the tea. If you need more, just take some money out of petty cash.” He then gestured to the envelope. “Oh, that came for you earlier. Who do you know in Virginia?”
I shrugged, my shoulders heavier than a few seconds ago. “No one. I just needed my original birth certificate. Or an official copy, whatever they send.”
Leaning a little, I snagged the envelope between two of my fingers. No grabbing or clutching. Could he hear how hard my heart was beating?
Cort’s cell buzzed, and he glanced at it. “Yeah? You planning on getting your passport and traveling a bit? Mom always said you needed to see more of the world. Maybe go someplace warm this winter. I had been thinking—”
A soft knock at the door tightened my grip on the envelope. I turned to see Gracia Reyes, our receptionist, with a solemn look.
“There’s a young woman here to see you, Mr. Putzkammer. Shall I send her in?” Gracia had a lovely lilting Spanish accent. She could speak five languages. It was the main reason Cort hired her, and I had no doubt he liked having a gorgeous brunette greet him every day too.
“Yes, thank you.” Cort straightened his suit jacket.
I nodded to him and headed to the door, but the second Gracia left the entrance, another woman filled it. She really was young, probably not even twenty. Her dark roots showed that the brassy red of her hair wasn’t her natural color, and the freckles on her cheeks served to make her look younger yet. If she had lost someone, it might be a good idea if I stayed and helped calm her if she got too emotional. Though what radiated from her at the moment wasn’t grief.
The woman stared at Co
rt, frozen to the spot.
He smiled and came around his desk, smooth as his silk tie. “Please, come in and have a seat. I’m Cort Putzkammer. I—”
“It’s true.” The gobsmacked woman fell to her knees as tears rolled down her cheeks. She laughed and choked it back with a sob. “I didn’t believe them, but it’s true. Ammut lives.”
S
tuffing the envelope into my pants’ pocket, I darted forward and tried to lift up the woman as she bowed her head to the floor. How she knew Cort had the Blood of Ammut I had no idea, but he had no desire to be reminded of it. Even though he had managed a full transformation into his Ammut form when vampires had invaded the funeral home, he was still nearly killed by their powerful leader Hessa. Since then, he hadn’t uttered a word about it.
“My lord, Great Devourer of the Dead. I am your servant.” The stranger wept against her arm as she squirmed out of my grasp.
What I had felt from her earlier sang with joy tinged with fear. I tempered my demonic strength as I tugged her to get up, but she fought against me. Gracia gasped from the door and hurried to the woman’s other side to help me.
Cort’s jaw worked from side to side before he blew out a hissing breath. “It’s all right. Leave her.” He motioned to us to step back and then looked to the redhead. His brows furrowed, guarding whatever was going on behind those eyes. “Get up. Who are you and why are you here?”
The woman hopped to her feet before I even let go. She kept her head bowed, stepping closer to him. “My name is Chione Nassry, my lord. I am your servant in this life and forever.”
“No, you’re not.” Cort shook his head. “I don’t have servants. Why are you here?”
“Please sit, honey. Take a moment to calm down.” Gracia patted one of the chairs, but Chione ignored her. Exchanging a worried look with me, Gracia made a sign for phone and hurried out of the office.
If she was calling 911, I didn’t think it necessary. We could handle one crazy woman. But maybe it was better if it was officially taken care of by the police.