The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(19)

Well, that escalated quickly. Strangely enough, his threats grounded her. She wasn’t a helpless teenager anymore, no matter how coming back here made her feel. Years of training and experience had made her deadly in her own right, even if she put that to use in the name of law and order.

But all the training and experience in the world weren’t enough to deal with her mother.

She lifted her chin. “Speak of the devil. Where is she?” She’d expected Martha to meet her with bells on. Her mother always liked a good show. It seemed like she was missing an opportunity to proclaim that her prodigal daughter was home at last.

Eden looked around. The commune had expanded a bit in the last ten years. Before, there had been only the main building and a scattering of houses behind it. Now there were two more buildings flanking the chapel, creating a U-shaped courtyard of sorts. Since morning prayers had ended well over an hour ago and lunch wasn’t for another hour, it was strange that the only person out and about seemed to be Joseph.

Maybe she’s actually listening to what I say for once and respecting it.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she gave herself an inner shake. Martha didn’t respect anyone’s needs but Martha’s. If it appeared she was being sensitive to Eden, it was because she was buttering her up for something. The woman did nothing without reason, and Eden highly doubted her mother was about to start now.

Joseph opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else insulting, but caught himself at the last moment. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. “She was called away. She said to make yourself at home in the chapel and she’ll be with you shortly.”

So Martha wasn’t being sensitive. Something more important came up.

Eden followed Joseph into the building, doing her best to smother the complicated tangle of emotions inside her. Part of her was relieved that she was right, but it was doing battle with the strange disappointment stemming from the same reason. She had no business being disappointed. Hell, she had no business expecting anything from her mother.

Especially answers.

She pushed it all aside and focused on her surroundings. The decorations leaned toward the light and airy—white walls, simple wooden pews that were expertly crafted, white prayer cushions for when kneeling was called for. The only thing extravagant about the room was the mural behind the podium, painted in vivid color.

The fear on Persephone’s face had always resonated with Eden. Here was a girl who also wasn’t in control of her own fate, who was being thrust back and forth between two powerful forces. Eden had always privately held that there was relief lingering in her eyes. Hades might have dragged her into the underworld, but the silver lining was that he’d effectively removed her from her mother’s influence. And what kind of person—goddess or otherwise—put her own grief before the well-being of the entire world? Persephone had dodged a bullet, and it was only because she’d failed to eat enough pomegranate seeds that she was forced back aboveground once more.

But only for six months. And when they were through, Eden imagined she welcomed the shadows of the underworld and Hades’ uncomplicated attentions. He didn’t expect her to be subservient. He wanted her to rule at his side.

There had been more nights than she cared to remember where she lay in bed and prayed for her own Hades to come and save her. To take her away from the world she’d been trapped in—away from the woman who ruled her with an iron fist and a sweet smile.

In the end, Eden had been her own savior.

She just had to remember that—remember that she’d walked back into her own personal hell of her own free will. She could leave whenever she wanted to. “Not much has changed.”

Joseph watched her with muddy brown eyes. The sheer hate there made her flinch before she caught herself. She started to reach to touch the butt of her gun before she remembered that she wasn’t on duty and she wasn’t carrying it.

He gave her another slow visual rake. “You want to know something?”

The only thing she wanted was to get the hell away from him. “No, thanks.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “If you’d stayed, she would have given you to me. She told me so.”

If that wasn’t just another indication that her leaving was the right thing to do, she didn’t know what was. “Guess I dodged a bullet.” In so many ways.

His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s still time.” Had her mother resorted to giving her followers drugs? Because there was nothing short of insanity that would have him being that confident he’d ever have a chance with Eden.

Drugs . . . or an unrelenting belief that every word that came out of Martha’s mouth was the gospel.

If her mother said Eden would come back into the fold, he believed her. Of course he did. Martha was convincing in the extreme. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten this far—or have a decades-long history of bending people to her will.

You have to at least try to be convincing. Coming in here with verbal fists swinging isn’t going to open any doors. “If you say so.”

Joseph turned and strode out of the chapel, leaving her staring at his back. It took her a few minutes to get moving once the door closed behind him, but she blamed that on culture shock caused by coming to Elysia after so long away. Eden wandered around the chapel, but nothing had really changed. The pews were of better quality—and probably more expensive—but everything else was exactly the same.