Page 8 of Sacred

He allowed me to leave the church, and I slowly headed down the main street, aiming for home. I’d planned to spend the rest of the day painting, like I always did on Sundays. It was my favorite hobby, and it was also a good way to clear my mind. I needed that clarity right now, because my head was still foggy from the tea. I almost felt like I was in a trance.

I blinked and came to an abrupt stop. I wasn’t heading for home at all. Somehow, I’d walked halfway to my secret berry-picking spot without even realizing where I was going.

It must’ve been due to the tea. It was still affecting me, pushing the truth to the forefront of my mind until my body followed suit. And the truth was… I had to go back there. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man I saw beyond the fence, whoever or whatever he was, and I was drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

I kept walking, eyes fixed on the woods ahead. The air was chilly today, but I barely registered it. My desire to see the skull-faced man was like kindling in my belly, stoking the new fire inside me and warming my body all the way from my head to my toes.

When I finally arrived back at the spot, the man wasn’t there. Only thin air remained where he once stood. But something else was there now. Something that I instantly knew was a gift for me.

Lying against the fence was a single red rose.

5

Sebastian

I knewshe’d be back.

I leaned forward, staring at the laptop screen as the footage played out. My sweet girl was on the screen, slowly trudging toward the Covenant boundary fence. I had a perfect view of her, courtesy of the trail cam I’d installed on a tree directly across the borderline.

Every night, I fast-forwarded through the day’s footage, hoping to catch another glimpse of her, but for weeks, she hadn’t shown up. Part of me thought I might have frightened her off forever with my ghastly appearance last time I went there, but at the same time, I had a strong feeling that she’d eventually see my presence as some sort of sign.

I was right. She was back at the spot now, long black hair tucked behind her shoulders and pale blue eyes fixed right on the camera as she headed toward the fence.

Of course, she had no idea the cam was there, tucked in a nook, and even if she spied it sitting there, she had no way of knowing what it was. The Covenant refused to use most modern technology, apart from the glaringly obvious, like the electric fence. Most of its citizens had likely never seen something asbasic as a TV or phone, let alone a spy camera with Wi-Fi streaming capability, full color, and sound, all wrapped up in a package the size of my fingernail.

As beautiful as she was, I couldn’t help but notice that the girl looked a bit off today. When I zoomed in closer on her face, I could see that her eyes had a glazed appearance, and her face was expressionless. It was a marked contrast to her appearance a few weeks ago, when she saw me staring at her. I still remembered the look of abject terror on her face, bulging eyes and all, along with the strangled shriek that slipped from her mouth after she dared to ask me who I was.

Fuck.It made me hard just thinking about it.

I got the idea from my undergrad studies. Back then, I was a member of a collegiate secret society. We did all kinds of weird, fucked-up shit during those times—it was basically a glorified fight club—and we painted ourselves up to look like Death whenever we had an initiation ritual for newer members.

It was all to set the scene and scare the shit out of the new guys, and it worked. They knew what they were getting into the second they walked in and saw the wild, macabre scenes everywhere, and they learned to act accordingly. Every single one of us went from a regular freshman to a hardened bastard by the time our senior year rolled around. And now, a few years on, those creepy painting skills had come in handy for me in giving the Covenant girl a good scare.

It worked perfectly. She genuinely thought I might be some sort of evil spirit, as evidenced by her asking me who orwhatI was, as if there was actually a chance that I was a demon who’d just emerged from the pits of hell to drag her down with me.

In a way, I suppose Iwasexactly that. At least that was how she’d come to see me one day, if all went to plan. I would be her new master, arriving in her world to yank her down to a dark, sinister place beneath the earth. And oh, how I’d enjoy myself…

She stepped closer to the fence. I zoomed farther in on the footage. She really did look strange today. Robotic, even. Someone must have drugged her. Or maybe she drank something of her own accord during one of her community’s fucked up mystic rituals.

The latter seemed more likely, given my knowledge of the community, limited as it was. Most of my mother’s notes on the sect had been lost after her death, but from what I’d gleaned from the pages that remained, the Covenant people were into some truly weird shit. Mom had described them as following a ‘magico-religious doctrine’ that seemed to be a weird blend of paganism, occultism, and Christianity.

The unlikely mashup had stemmed from the beliefs of the original members, who arrived on North American shores long before the United States were founded. Many of those founding members were so-called witches and alchemists who fled Europe to escape persecution. Others were French Catholics who’d shipped themselves to the new world in hope of a better life.

All of the above were initially citizens of New France, which had once colonized territories all over what was now Canada and the States, but at some point they’d splintered from the Acadians and left to create their own little world in what was now upstate New York. Some other early members were English settlers who’d defected from the British-owned territories of North America, bringing their language with them. The Covenant eventually adopted it to better communicate with the outside world when it became necessary.

The result of all that history was what we saw today: an isolated sect living in the vast wilderness of the High Peaks, practicing blood magic and carrying out ritualized murders in the name of their god. Or gods. No one knew the finer detailsof who they worshipped or how many deities they revered altogether.

No one except my mom, that is, and everyone knew what happened to her when she got too close.

I stiffened and narrowed my eyes at my screen, watching as the girl drew close enough to spot the flower I’d left there for her, propped up against the fence. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d view it as a sign from above.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she moved closer and knelt. The gaps between the net-patterned fence were quite small—not even a squirrel could squeeze through—but the girl was smart. She picked up a stick and carefully fed it through the closest hole until it touched the rose’s stem. Then she scraped it toward her, slowly maneuvering it through the gap until there was enough for her to grab. She dropped the stick, reached out one slender hand to take hold of the stem, and yanked the whole flower through.

I saw her breathe a visible sigh of relief as she sat back, folding her legs beneath her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she dipped her head forward to sniff the rose. A tiny smile curved up her pretty lips, and she opened her eyes and cast them to the heavens in a reverential stare.

Her mouth was moving now, whispering something that the camera couldn’t catch. A prayer, perhaps. Then she closed her eyes again and slowly lay down on her back, holding the rose against her chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” I muttered, raising my brows as I watched her.

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