5. Sebastian

5

Sebastian

I knew she'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 as basic 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 or what I 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 I was exactly 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 details of 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.

One hand remained clutching the flower, while the other drifted downward, resting on her lower belly for a moment before sliding even lower. Her eyes flew open, and she immediately snatched the hand back as if she'd been burned. Within seconds, it was drifting back downward.

Fucking hell. She was scared of touching herself. Ashamed of her own desire. That meant my little cult girl was probably a virgin.

I couldn't believe it. I assumed these devil-worshipping freaks had wild orgies by a bonfire every night after drinking blood from chalices and speaking in tongues. Never in my wildest dreams did I think any of their girls would still be virgins above the age of eighteen. And this girl was definitely over eighteen. Without the makeup and modern clothing I was used to seeing on city girls, it was hard to tell an exact age, but given her facial features and voluptuous curves, I'd guess she was somewhere between twenty and twenty-four.

My cock was even harder now. A sweet, na?ve little virgin would make my plan a thousand times better.

Onscreen, her face strained, and she bit her lower lip and slid her trembling hand downward again, legs slightly widening. Once more, it didn't last. She pulled it right back again, face turning pink with shame.

I wondered if she'd ever made herself come before. Immediately after that thought occurred to me, I decided that she probably hadn't. Given the furtive, embarrassed actions unfolding on the footage before me, I figured she was probably too ashamed to come. Some part of her sect's doctrine must have taught her that she wasn't allowed to feel pleasure. That something terrible would befall her if she lost her virtue in any way.

One day, I could use that knowledge of her innermost beliefs and desires. Teach her to let go of the shame and hand over all control to me. But not yet. For now, I had to keep watching her from a distance while my plan took shape.

Once it all came to fruition, I could whisk her away from this strange, dark little corner of the world. I would make her mine; my trained, submissive pet. She would be terrified and full of hate and resentment toward me, the monster who dragged her into the underworld, but that was simply too fucking bad. The Covenant needed to be taught a lesson, and this girl was going to be the collateral damage in that process.

A normal man would probably have sympathy for her, given her age and sense of innocence, but I'd lost all sense of empathy when it came to these witchy wilderness freaks years ago.

They took from me, and I would take from them in return.

They destroyed someone close to me, and I would destroy someone close to them in return.

Real eye-for-an-eye shit, Old Testament style. Given their quasi-Christian origins, they'd surely understand that much, once they finally cottoned onto what was going on.

The right day wasn't here yet, and it probably wouldn't come for a long time, given how much preparation I'd have to do in order for everything to run smoothly. So, for now, I'd keep lurking in the shadows, keeping watch over the trail camera and making the occasional hike to the border fence to leave gifts for my future captive.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Waiting for the day I finally came for her.