Page 14 of Sinful

“Please follow me,” the watchman said, still eyeing me with unvarnished suspicion.

As I stepped into Alderwood, a jolt of surprise ricocheted through me. I’d imagined thatched-roof huts, dirt paths, and firepits everywhere, but instead I was greeted by a picturesque scene that seemed to have jumped straight out of a medieval French village.

Quaint homes lined the cobblestone streets, their wooden frames and stone facades adorned with ivy and climbing flowers. Giggling children in colorful old-fashioned clothing played on the streets, seemingly without a care in the world, and the adults around them looked happy too, their smiles only briefly faltering when they registered the stranger in their midst. It was a far cry from the dark, gloomy scenes I’d originally pictured.

The town was also far bigger than I imagined. The main road was so long that I couldn’t even see the end of it from where I was standing right now.

“How many people live here?” I asked.

“Hm, let me think,” the watchman said, lips twisting. “Your government sends a census-taker up here every few years, but the last one was quite a while ago. If I remember correctly, it was somewhere around twelve hundred souls. Perhaps more now, given that several years have passed since then.”

My brows shot up. “That many people? I thought it was only half that. Or even less.”

“Many of those numbers are children, of course. But it’s still more than you expected, eh?” The watchman smiled. “Outsiders are always surprised to learn this.”

I forced a smile in return. It was important that I stay on the good side of these people for the time being, or else they’d realize I was a total fucking snake in the grass. That wouldn’t do, given my plans.

“I suppose most of us have no way of knowing what it’s really like up here, given how secluded it is,” I said smoothly.

“True. But it’s nice, no?” the man replied, gesturing around us.

I nodded, taking another look at the buildings as we passed. Itwasnice here, but beneath the town’s enchanting exterior lurked a sinister undercurrent. All you had to do was look a little closer for that to become apparent.

Small twig and straw effigies hung from doorways, swaying gently in the breeze, and animal bones were scattered beside garden paths, arranged in strange patterns. The contrast between the town’s charming beauty and the macabre symbols was jarring. It made it seem as if the place was a living entity, pretty and innocent on the outside but harboring shadowy secrets within.

“The governor lives over there,” the man said, pointing toward a narrow double-story home with a thriving rose gardenat the front. It was identical to every other house lining the street.

My brows rose with surprise yet again. “There?”

“Yes.”

“Are all the houses the same size?” I asked.

The watchman nodded. “Mostly,” he replied. “Some are bigger, for those with many children, but most are about the same.”

“Where I come from, the leaders tend to live in very big houses compared to everyone else.”

He gave me a tight smile. “We don’t do things like that here,” he said, turning down the garden path that led to Trudeau’s front door. “Here, we are equals, no matter our position in the community.”

He rapped on the weathered wooden door three times. It swung open to reveal a tall, imposing figure with dark hair touched by streaks of silver at the temples.

Augustus Trudeau.The man I’d thought about killing every single day for the last twenty years.

“My, my… Sebastian Thorne. What an unexpected turn of events,” he said, staring at me with piercing blue eyes. “Please, come in.”

I’d never actually seen his face before, but I recognized his voice from twenty years ago. The sound sent an immediate bolt of anger hurtling through my system.

“Thank you,” I said curtly, following him inside.

He gestured to his right. “When I heard you were here, I put the kettle on to boil right away,” he said. His voice was smooth with an undertone of sinister charm. “I’d be honored if you would try our signature blend of tea.”

As he awaited my reply, he turned his head over his shoulder to look at me, lips drawn in what I could only assume was meant to be a friendly smile to mask the disdain he truly felt for me.

I returned the fake smile and nodded. “Sounds great. Thanks.”

I already knew exactly what the signature tea blend was made of, and I’d prepared accordingly.

My mother’s notes had mentioned a type of tea the Covenant used to get the truth out of people. It was usually given to errant children and teens who refused to admit to their wrongdoings, but it was occasionally used on adults too. She’d written that it was made from the dried leaves of plants the Covenant referred to as moonshade and whisperwort.

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