Page 15 of Sinful

Jesse helped me figure out the modern names of the plants. He was smart as hell and an excellent researcher—he’d only failed the bar so many times because his nerves always got the better of him during exams—and he’d quickly tracked down an ecological pharmacologist who informed him that the plants were most likely nightshade variants known to the modern world as Scopolia and Black Henbane.

Those plants could be used to create something called scopolamine, which was an active component in so-called truth serums. It worked by creating a slightly altered state of consciousness due to its psychoactive properties, and those who took it often experienced drowsiness followed by a distinct desire to speak every single word on their mind.

Thankfully, there were antidotes, and given my family’s ownership of multiple hospitals on the East Coast, it wasn’t difficult for me to find a pharmacist willing to prescribe me some. I’d slipped a few tablets into my pocket before the hike up here, knowing there was a high likelihood that I’d be given the truth tea if I made it into Alderwood today.

Trudeau gestured for me to take a seat at a small wooden table. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, still smiling pleasantly.

When he returned, I noticed he was only holding one cup. The man couldn’t possibly make it any more fucking obvious that he was trying to drug me.

“Here you are,” he said, sliding the steaming mug over to me. In his other hand, he held a plate of pie with a dollop of cream on the side, along with a spoon. “You can also try this,” he added. “Blueberry and wild raisin pie, made by my daughter. I don’t think you’ll find anything like it on the outside.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”

I took a few sips of the special tea. It reminded me of unripe grapefruit, sharp and tangy on my tongue. To rid myself of the nasty taste, I picked up the spoon and took a quick bite of the pie mixed with the cream. It was heavenly.

“This is delicious,” I said, scooping up another piece. “Best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

Trudeau smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell my daughter you said that.”

“The cream is really good too.”

“Freshly churned by our dairy workers. We have several cows on our farmstead down in the valley. They also produce delicious cheese and butter.”

I took another bite of pie and swallowed. “How do you keep it all cold? Icebox?”

He let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head. “No. Every home in our village has a refrigeration unit.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes.” His sharp eyes bored into mine. “Does it surprise you that we don’t live as if it’s the Middle Ages in every single respect?”

“Honestly… yes. I thought you didn’t use electricity here. Apart from the boundary fence.”

He leaned back. “It’s very rare that we adopt outsider technology and equipment, but sometimes we have to admit thatyou people got something right,” he said with a laconic smile. “Every ten years, the elders convene for a week-long meeting on outsider technology, during which we discuss what we might want to bring in to improve the lives of our citizens. We don’t use electricity for the most part, as you suspected, but we decided long ago that refrigeration was too important to pass up, for the health and wellbeing of our people.”

“I see.” I nodded slowly. “What other outsider technologies have you adopted?”

“The answer to that question really depends on how far back you want to travel in time,” he said, stroking his dark beard. “But if you’re talking about more modern things, we don’t have televisions, computers, cameras, or gaming systems like most outsiders do. We only adopt things that make life undeniably safer and healthier for all our citizens. There are some exceptions, though.”

I furrowed my brows. “Such as?”

“Some of our members are allowed to drive cars, and we own a couple of them. It makes it much easier to travel to outsider towns and transport the farm goods that we trade or sell there,” Trudeau replied. “I also own a satellite phone so that outsiders can contact me—or the other elders—via calls or messages in urgent situations regarding our shared business. We don’t like it so much, but unfortunately, it has become essential for dealing with the outside world. And wemustdeal with it on occasion, in order to live and thrive up here. After all, we cannot produce absolutely everything here. Outside trade is necessary for survival. Always has been.”

“I understand.” I cocked my head. “How do you get electricity out here, anyway? It’s hard to imagine someone like you calling up the power company and asking them to come out and connect you.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I can imagine how it must all seem very strange to you. But your government approached us several years ago, asking if they could use some of our land for solar panels. We don’t use that part of the land ourselves, so we allowed it in return for a portion of the electricity it produces. It creates more than enough for us, so we never need to pay anyone, and the rest is fed into the outsider grid to meet the state’s demands.”

“I see,” I replied. “Sounds like a good deal.”

“Yes.” Another smile. “We’ve worked things out quite well.”

I knew exactly why Trudeau was happily engaging in this odd form of small talk with me. He was biding his time, waiting for the truth tea to take effect, before the friendly façade dropped.

Then the interrogation would begin.

Of course, unbeknownst to him, I’d quickly popped one of the antidote pills while he was in the kitchen preparing the tea, so his truth serum wasn’t going to do jack shit. Still, I’d need to fake some drowsiness quite soon, so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

“I have to say,” he said, tilting his head as he studied my face. “You look exactly like your father when he was younger. I don’t see Miranda in you at all.”

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