Page 13 of Sinful

As I drew closer to the top, the path became more dangerous to traverse, narrowing and twisting with sharp turns and sudden drops. This was by design, no doubt, to discourage outsiders from coming this way.

I kept going, and I knew I was almost there when I spotted a couple of talismans hanging from branches. The creepy things were crafted from sticks bound together with string, fashioned into crude humanoid shapes. I had no idea what they represented in Covenant culture, but given their ominous appearance, I could only presume they were intended to ward off outsiders.

Soon, the talismans were all over the place, along with stacked piles of rocks on the ground below the branches. In one spot where the concentration of talismans was particularly thick, I saw a small wooden box on a post with a symbol smeared on it in a brownish-red substance. Blood, most likely.

“Fucking freaks,” I muttered to myself.

Five minutes later, I found myself at the entrance to Alderwood.

Most of the Covenant’s land was secured by an electrified fence, but the front part of the village was different. A hulking stone wall rose before me, reminiscent of a medieval town. The front gate was enormous, constructed of thick, weathered wood.

As I stepped closer, I felt eyes on me. I glanced upward to see two watchmen staring at me from their posts atop the stone wall. I knew they didn’t have guns, but I was certain they were well-versed in other protective measures, so I needed to stay cautious.

“What are you doing here, outsider?” one of the men called down to me. His accent was strange.

My mother once told me the Covenant people sounded a little like Quebecers. However, given that the group had diverged from French Canadian settlers hundreds of years ago, along with the fact that they’d adopted English as their official language in their early days, there was still a stark difference.

“I’m here to see your governor,” I called up to the watchmen.

I knew from my mother’s surviving notes that the governor was Augustus Trudeau, the same man who’d arrived at the house with Jean-Pierre Leclerc to abduct her twenty years ago. Unless he’d died—which was unlikely, given that he was likely only fifty or so by now—he would still be in charge of village affairs.

The watchman who’d spoken to me looked over at his colleague and signaled something before disappearing from view. There was a slot in the gate, and he slid it open a moment later.

“Are you aware of the protocol we have in place for setting up meetings with outsiders?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did you see a wooden box on your way up here? About a quarter mile back the way you came?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I saw it.”

“That is the mailbox for outsiders who are interested in contacting us,” he said. “If you wish to request a meeting with the governor, you must leave a letter in that box, outlining your reasons for the meeting. You must also include a local address in the letter. Your request will be discussed by the elders, and a reply will be issued to you at the address you have given us. Once a month, a few of our members leave to conduct business with the outsiders in Pinecrest Falls, so you can expect to wait that long for a response. I should also advise you that over ninety-nine percent of requests are rejected. We do not like to have much contact with people from your world.”

“Thanks for the information, but I’m certain Governor Trudeau will agree to see me today.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You speak his name as if you have already been acquainted with him.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure. But I know he’ll see me.”

“I do not think so. You may leave your request—”

I lifted my hand and cut him off. “Tell him Sebastian Thorne is here.”

“As I said, you—” The man abruptly halted. “Did you sayThorne?”

“Yes. I’m Miranda Thorne’s son.”

He stared at me for a long time. Then he dipped his chin in a curt nod. “One moment, please.”

The slot closed again. I stood and waited under the vigilant eye of the second watchman, hoping my gamble would pay off.

Fifteen minutes later, the slot opened again, and the first man appeared. “You were right, Mr. Thorne,” he said in a clipped tone. “The governor will see you now.”

5

Sebastian

I heardthe telltale sound of hands working at a lock. Then the hulking wooden gate swung open with a loud, grating creak, as if it hadn’t been opened for decades.

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