Accidental Surrogate

Cora

About three hours later I am…over books. As a genre, in their entirety.

My hands are dusty, and I’m sick of the smell of musty old pages, and they’re just so boring –

Page after page of history regarding shifter worship practices – who genuflected to this god, and how, and where, and for how long, and the minute changes in the practices…

I groan, pushing my twentieth book away from me and looking dourly at the stack of about fifty still left in my pile.

“Come on, Cora,” Roger says, sitting comfortably across from me, smirking at me over the edge of a neat little green text. “You’re supposed to be the smart one in the family. I thought you’d have more staying power than this.”

“Ella’s smart,” I reply, immediately defensive. He nods, conceding the point. “But you gave me all the dusty books,” I sigh, frowning and pulling the next one off the top of the pile and towards me. I cough when it raises a puff of dust into the air on its way.

“I gave you all the ones with more pictures,” Roger murmurs, closing his book and reaching for his next as well. “Wanted to make it easy on you.”

My mouth drops open in a little outrage at his implication there but then I see the upturned corner of his lip. “Liar,” I say, smiling down at my book as I open the cover. The title page reads A Complete History of the Cults of the Dark God, 1862. “You just didn’t want to get your hands and clothes dusty touching all these old ones.” Passively, I gesture to my clothes – which are indeed covered in a light layer of grey library dust.

“You’ve got a little on your ass,” Roger murmurs indifferently. “Come here, I’ll help you brush it off.”

illustrated, with many pictures of occult ceremonies and practices that I find fascinating, if not a little disturbing. I’m letting my eyes drift over the description of a

I stop, frozen.

him, right in front of me.

the same – but of course it’s not, then he’d be over

and his attention is instantly on me. “I think…I think

my side in a moment, faster than I thought he could be, leaning over–the book next to me. I point at the image, which takes up three quarters of a page and shows a monk with a partially shaved head striding through a forest in a dark robe, tied at the waist with a rope from which charms dangle. In his hand is

not sure I remembered in the moment. I’m sorry about that – but the charms, and the rod and and something about

on my lower back, not brushing against me by accident but staying there,

then we both

emphasizes hierarchy, war, and discord between peoples. in order to honor their lord, the God of Darkness, who they understand as best worshiped by sowing disharmony as well as blood sacrifice, From the eighteenth to the nineteenth centuries. the Cult developed significant magical prowess and their abilities to manipulate the elements should not be underestimated. While the most devoted members of the Cult exclusively wear the trademark black robes, many others move through the world in disguise. Devotees tend to flock

and disappointed to find that that’s the end.

he asks me, turning the page back and pointing

nodding steadily. “When I saw it – it was like déjà vu. Just an immediate return to those memories. If I had seen that image, even without the hypnosis,

releasing me. “Look through the rest

turning back to the book and quickly looking through the pages, my mind whirling. What the hell was this cult? And what on earth can they want with

the god who works in

phrase “blood sacrifice” and my heart drops to

I jump, spinning towards her. “I’m so sorry!” she says, her hands