The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(33)

Shock rocked her back on her heels before reason intervened. He wasn’t asking her out. He was looking to do the same thing they had last night—meet up and compare notes. He doesn’t want a distraction, no matter how attractive it feels to you. Have to remember that. She smothered the disappointment threatening to raise its ugly head at the realization and managed a smile. “Why don’t you just pick up something and meet me at my room?”

“No, Eden.” His blue eyes were as clear as the sky above their heads. “Don’t get me wrong—I want to find this killer, and we’ll need to work together to do that—but dinner tonight is a date.”

A date. She blinked. “I, uh . . .” What was she supposed to say to that? Her hands fluttered at her side, coming up to touch her hair and then drop down again, which only served to make her feel like a fool. She didn’t do this. She didn’t flutter. Eden took a breath, released it . . . and still didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say anything. Zach walked her to her car and held the door open for her as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“See you at six.” Then he was gone, striding across the parking lot like a man who was in total control of his life.

She was honestly a little surprised she recognized that trait, even in another person. This is a mistake. He was right last night when he put a stop to this whole thing. She couldn’t afford distractions when she was facing off with her mother, especially distractions in the form of Zach Owens. In another life, maybe. But in their current situation . . . it was the worst possible idea.

So why hadn’t she shot him down?

The thought plagued her throughout the drive to Elysia. She finally managed to force it from her mind and focus on the problem at hand. The compound was deserted, the only sign of habitation the faint sound of singing coming from the chapel. She checked her watch. They’d be occupied for a good hour yet, which meant she had to hurry. There was no way she could search every single household in Elysia, but she didn’t have to.

She was going to start at the top.

Martha was too much of a control freak to let one of her flock get away from her like this. She knew who was responsible—or at least had an educated guess. It’s just like my mother to be benefiting from this somehow, though it’s anyone’s guess as to what her endgame is.

She headed to the largest house directly opposite the chapel. It was the first to be built when Martha settled here, and it had always reminded Eden of a giant hen squatting over its egg, watching every move anyone in the square made. Growing up, she’d always wondered if it was coincidental or not, but now having studied cults in all their manipulative splendor, she had all but confirmed that her mother had designed it that way on purpose. As happy and downright cheerful as the Elysians seemed on the outside, the inner workings of the cult were rife with paranoia, as well as a surveillance system that would put Big Brother to shame.

Have to wonder if those cameras have picked up something vital to this investigation.

Skirting the edge of the building, she paused by the back door and looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching her, but the small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention all the same. She frowned, giving the surrounding area another sweep. There shouldn’t be anyone out and about. If anyone dared miss chapel this morning, Martha would have sent Abram to bring them in—and ensure they never missed again.

Her favorite way to bring members of her flock to heel was to use the torch so vital to Persephone and Demeter. There were few injuries more painful than burns, and there were ways to burn a person that didn’t scar afterward. Eden rubbed her wrist, almost able to feel Abram’s uncompromising grip as he forced her to hold it a few inches above the candle on the kitchen counter. Many people didn’t realize that that spot was the hottest, not the flame itself.

The pain . . .

Most people weren’t subject to the private sessions. For them, Martha performed her cleansing ritual in the chapel, in front of the rest of her followers. Her mother claimed that fire was pure, devoid of any of the sin of this world. Eden didn’t think ancient Greeks figured sin the same way Martha did, but the memories of those burns on strategic parts of her body when she acted out against her mother were more than enough fodder for her nightmares, even without the rest of the shit that went on.

She exhaled and let the past go. Or tried to.

Nothing moved in any of the windows of the houses facing her, and there wasn’t even the slightest breeze to sway the wild grass growing between them. Must be my imagination. But she couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something.

She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Eden crouched next to the lock—one of the only set of doors in the entire compound with a lock on it—and took her lock-picking kit out of her jacket. It had been a long time since she’d had to use one of these things, mostly because breaking and entering was the slightest bit illegal and she was a law-enforcement officer, but she’d gotten good when she was in the midst of her teenage rebellion. She’d kept up the skill over the years, no matter how impractical, because you never knew when you’d have to get yourself out of a tight spot.

Or into one.

The lock clicked open, and she moved into the house and shut the door behind her. So far, so good. It took a grand total of three steps into the main hallway before what she was seeing registered, and Eden stumbled to a stop. She looked around, blinked, and looked around again. “Impossible.” It was identical to when she’d lived here, right down to the tear in the rug on the stairs where she’d fallen down the last three steps one night when she was trying to sneak out. The keys in her pocket had ripped clean through the old carpet. But that was thirteen years ago. She could understand Martha not fixing it while Eden was still here, but after all this time?