Devil Dog Days by K. H. Koehler

Author:K. H. Koehler [Koehler, K. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KH Koehler Books
Published: 2018-12-24T22:00:00+00:00

20

The Children of Endor

The sound of quickly approaching footsteps woke me from a sound sleep.

I opened my eyes, looked around, and almost forgot where I was. The master bedroom of the old Victorian the Satanists owned. Yeah. That was right. The paper on the wall was red and gold damask, and the bed was a four-poster monstrosity with red satin sheets and a white fur comforter and veils. There were pictures of Victorian erotica on the walls and a closet full of fancy suits and black leather BDSM gear (which I noticed while looking for a change of clothes I never found). It was like staying in the bedroom of the Marquis de Sade.

I sat up in bed as Sada walked in, her high heels clicking on the polished cedar floorboards. She was dressed in a simple button-down shirt knotted at her waist and jean shorty shorts with a white chef’s apron tied over it. It was hot in the house even with the high-end A/C unit on full blast and she had ditched the long sundresses. Well, it was either the heat or she thought I would find this look more alluring.

She looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” I said, digging the crusty stuff out of the corners of my eyes. I’d slept hard, but not very long. Maybe a few hours, at most. I still felt like a zombie, and though all my injuries had healed, I felt wrung out, physically and emotionally.

“I tried to make dinner,” she said, biting her lip. I noted the tone of her voice was better suited to telling long, epic tales of lost romance and tragic death. “But…it didn’t go well.”

“No big deal.”

“But you must be hungry.”

“We’ll order a pizza.”

She smiled as if that was the best suggestion she’d ever heard. Not for the first time, I got the sharp feeling that this was very much her first rodeo. Despite her age—early twenties, I’d say—she seemed painfully young and almost…innocent. I wondered if she’d ever really been away from the coven for any significant amount of time.

Before she turned to leave me, I said, “Sada?”

“Yes, Nick.” She turned about-face, soldier-straight, to smile at me.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

That surprised me. She seemed much younger than that. “And how long have you been with the Children of Endor?”

She looked confused, as if she couldn’t understand why I would ask her anything so personal. “I…was born into them.”

“To one of the girls there,” I guessed. “One of the Satanists.”

“Yes,” she said as she turned to go order the pizza, her cell phone in hand. “Juliette is my mother.”

* * *

The pizza had arrived by the time I dragged my sorry, tired ass downstairs.

Sada had set the table with nice linens and white and red candles. She had set a wreath of wildflowers around some floating candles as the centerpiece. It was almost poignantly romantic—though a scent of burned pasta did manage to waft out of the kitchen, something ruining the overall effect. She seemed happy again as she

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