Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mornings in the forest are especially beautiful.

I’ve never really been a morning person. I have a tendency to resemble an ogre who lives underneath a bridge, and it takes me a solid hour to maneuver myself back into a functioning human being.

Out here, however, I wake up early. Well, everyone wakes up early here. You can hear people up and mulling about as early as four-thirty. Which makes sense, since a lot of them are farmers, fishermen—fisher people actually, a few women—carpenters, and such. They have to be up early.

And I’ve seemingly caught the bug. I enjoy being up to watch the sun rise over the lake. Sipping a nice cup of coffee and feeling the breeze brush my skin, before it gets too hot. The weather has been exceptional lately, but the temperature at sunrise in the summer is now my favorite.

It’s seven-fifteen, and I just finished my coffee. I haven’t seen Abdiel yet. I was hoping to catch him, to apologize for our disagreement last night. I’m guessing he spent the night with the Head Priest…

It’s not that I’m salty, or jealous or anything, though it probably seems the opposite. I’m genuinely just concerned for Abdiel. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve come to realize how sweet he is. It’s basically unheard of, for someone to be that damn kind. He’s a generous, accepting soul, with loyalty in his marrow. People like that are hard to come by in regular society, let alone guys my age.

There’s no other way to say it. Abdiel Harmony is a unicorn.

And the last thing I would want to see, now that I feel so personally attached to him, is someone abusing his never-ending trust. Especially someone he’s madly in love with.

Darian. I want to like the guy as much as everyone else does, but it’s hard. He checks off so many narcissistic asshole boxes.

Older. Beautiful, almost unbelievably so. Strong, capable. A leader, a manipulator. Someone who looks at you like he can hear every thought happening in your head.

That part isn’t specific to him. Abdiel does that too, and so does Darian’s creepy brother, Drake.

Drake is another interesting piece of the puzzle of this cult I would love to figure out. That’s why I have a plan for this morning…

I’m going back to that lab. I want to see him again. I need to.

The first time I set eyes on him, he was painstakingly familiar to me for some reason. It didn’t take me long to remember why…

I saw a vision of him, when Abdiel and I were in that clearing. Before I almost tried to off myself, completely unintentionally.

Now, I’m not sure what that means. Why out of all the people in the world, I would have seen his face, his bizarre snake eyes, in my mind at such a poignant moment. Especially since I’d never met him before.

My brain was showing me his face… Or whatever forces that live on the mountain were. But why?

When I saw him, he was just standing there, exactly where we were in the clearing. He was looking, staring, right at us. Right at me. And he was crying red tears.

It’s strange, but when I was talking with him yesterday, I got the sense that he was trying to figure me out as much as I was trying with him. Only he was doing a much better job of it. He has this way about him, this air as if he can see into your soul. Like he can read what’s happening in your mind, and he’ll have no qualms about using it to his advantage. It spooked me. I fear he’ll be able to see what I saw when I was up on that mountain… and that it’ll upset him.

But even so, I have to go back to him, back to his lab. I need more answers.

It’s not that I’m against this place. In fact, the opposite is true. I think it’s every bit the heaven on Earth Abdiel had described when we met. But the thing is, I’ve never fit into any societal molds outside of this cult, and the same seems to be happening in here.

People don’t trust me. It’s apparent when I speak to them. Darian doesn’t, and I think they’re all so brainwashed by him that his skepticism of me is trickling down to his people. Of course, I have Abdiel, when I’m not pissing him off by talking shit about his man. And his adoptive parents, Gina and Paul are just as sweet, if not still wary of me, since no one knows me well at all. But they haven’t tried.

The only people I’ve gotten along with even a little are two of Darian’s wives, Emithel and Gem. They’re the youngest of his five beards, though they’re all at least ten years younger than him. Another red flag in my humble opinion, but what the hell do I know?

They’re sweet girls. Actually, speaking of them, I see Emithel coming outside now, her jet-black bob of hair shifting just above her shoulders as she walks over, rocking worn Chucks and a hoodie with some logo on it for a band I’ve never heard of. She’s definitely the quietest of all Darian’s wives. She rarely speaks, a natural observer if I’ve ever seen one. I recognize it because I’m the same way.

Lauris watches people too, but I haven’t spoken to her much, since she’s obviously Darian’s right-hand girl. She speaks to him more than the others, and he speaks back, though their interactions aren’t affectionate. He doesn’t act like a husband to any of the five, and not for their lack of trying. Kiara and Alissa, the hot ones as I call them, are constantly vying for his attention, which they don’t get.

Honestly, I have no clue how anyone hasn’t picked up on how gay he is. I’m not talking stereotypical gay. He doesn’t sing show tunes and paint his nails or anything, but he’s just solidly not interested in females.

Most of the guys I’ve met here have checked me out at least once. Not all, but many. And I’m not saying this to brag on myself. It’s just something women are used to. It happens. Sometimes it’s flattering, sometimes it’s annoying, but it’s a part of life outside The Principality, and apparently, people here aren’t shy with their sexual interests either.

Except Darian.

I know he doesn’t like me, but still. Not once has he ever looked at me in any sort of studious way revolving around my looks. He’s flat out not interested, and it reminds me of the time I went to a gay club with a friend of mine from school. I was the only vagina in a sea of penises, and I’d never felt more invisible.

That’s how Darian reacts around me, only worse, because he’s jealous. I think he sees Abdiel as his property, a possession of his I’m flying a little too close to. And he ain’t having it.

My thoughts are shifted aside when I give Emithel a polite smile and a wave. I’d like to make at least one friend here, besides Abdiel. Em’s probably my best bet.

“Good morning.” She smiles.

“Same to you.” I gaze out over the lake. “This view is spectacular.”

“Isn’t it?” She sighs. “I come out here every morning, just to enjoy the beauty.”

We stand in quiet comfort for a moment before I ask, “Were you born into The Principality? Like Abdiel?”

She nods. “Yes. My parents have been here since almost the start.”

“What do they do?”

“My father is a carpenter, and my mother is the registrar for classes. She’s like the head teacher.”

“That’s amazing. What sorts of classes have you taken?”

“Well, I finished the high school equivalency and after that it was all about art.” She grins.

I saw some of her paintings inside Darian’s house last night. She’s incredibly talented, and it’s obvious she has a great passion for art.

“Have you ever thought about selling your paintings?” I ask without thinking, and she turns her face to give me a peculiar look. “I mean, at least online…? You don’t have to go to a gallery or anything.”

Her eyes narrow a bit in confusion. “We have no use for money…”

“It’s not about the money,” I tell her. “It could be about recognition. Or bringing your art to people who might enjoy it.”

“I have all the attention I could ever need right here.” Her tone is quietly peaceful.

It reminds me of one of the Manson girls.

Okay, maybe that’s an extreme example of brainwashing, but it’s just so strange to be around people who have no desire to travel, to see new places, explore new things. They have no earthly want to leave this forest, and it’s bizarre to me.

“So Darian… he’s just it for you, huh?” I peer at her. She starts chewing on her lower lip. “I mean, till death do you part, right?”

“No marriage is without its challenges,” she mumbles, awkwardly twirling a strand of dark hair around her fingertip. “Sacrifice is a huge part of the transformation.”

“Even if you’re sacrificing your own happiness?” I tilt my face toward her. “You’re so young, Emithel. Don’t you want to experience true love for yourself?”

Her face springs in my direction, eyes widening as if what I’m saying is illegal, and we could be shot for even talking about this. “I do love him…” Her voice is mousy, timid. Unsure.

“I’m sure you do…” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “I’ll see you in a bit.” This debate is pointless, and I have things to do.

I squeeze her shoulder before spinning away and walking toward the path. I can’t deal with the robotic conversations right now. I want to go speak to the only person who seems to tell it like it is around here…

The Serpent.

While I make my way, strolling the trail that brings me through their housing, rows and rows of trailers, I contemplate this whole thing. This place I find myself in…

I can’t deny that running away from reality feels good. I would never say I don’t understand these people’s desire to leave society behind. I mean, the terribleness I’ve experienced alone makes me want to hide from life, all the damn time.

I’ve only ever lived in the States, but it’s not exactly as fabulous as us Americans try to make it seem, or some other countries think it is. They glorify the USA as the best damn place on Earth, but beneath the surface of our shiny, apple pie-scented land of the free is a dark, seedy underbelly; a prism of evils unlike anything God probably ever imagined when He, or She, created the earth.

Mankind in general has turned this planet into something disgusting, but America really takes the cake as far as cruelty, dissonance, and a blatant disregard for the conscience we so actively try to convince others we have in spades. Maybe it’s just because this is where I live, but I’ve had many friends from other countries, and for everything I love about America there seems to be three things I can’t even believe I actually live amongst.

But all of that said, even though I totally get the idea behind wanting to flee the bullshit and take up refuge here in a place that’s sustained as well—almost miraculously so—as the Expanse, I can’t help but see through their rose-colored glasses.

Call me a negative Nancy, but I’m actually just a realist. I don’t think Utopia’s exist, and I feel like if I lived here, I would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s about a half-hour walk from the lake to the mountain. Once you get past housing and all the scattered locations for things like school and manufacture, you reach the crop fields. Rather than going left in their direction, I stick to the trail on the right, leading me closer to the mountain.

At its base is a different field, which is heavily guarded by their patrolmen. Abdiel told me they’re called the Tribe, which is good to know, since they’re the dudes who have been following me and watching my every move since the moment I emerged from the mountain with him. I guess their job is to protect this place, which begs the question… from what?

If it’s really as harmonious a commune as they all make it seem, then what’s the need for all the secrecy? The masked dudes on ATVs with machine guns strapped to their backs. A bit excessive for a place that doesn’t even use money, no?

My bet would be on the field before me. Abdiel told me it’s called the Field of Influence, and that different things are grown there. From the smell, I know they must be growing cannabis, but that can’t be it. With that level of security, it’s like they’re sprouting nuclear weapons from the soil.

I want some answers. Not because I plan on leaving and going to the press or some dumb shit. I don’t care about anything like that. I just want to know for my own peace of mind. I want to know why these people are so hardcore dedicated to Darian. Why they treat him like a literal King, and what his brother’s role is in all this.

I’m… curious.

And yes, I know curiosity killed the cat, but maybe that bitch was a simple house cat. I’d like to think of myself as more of a ferocious feline. A jungle cat, disguised as someone mousey and small.

Shaking it away, I cringe at the thought. I wish I had that sort of confidence. That’s the person I was supposed to be until that scumbag ripped it all away.

Swallowing my unease, I wander over to the entrance of the field, a trail that will take me to the lab, based on how Abdiel and I came up here yesterday. Only I don’t get very far.

“Where you think you’re going, stray?” One of the guards mumbles from behind his bandana. All I can see are dark eyes, narrowed at me as if I’m the enemy.

It’s pretty alarming. But I force myself to straighten.

“I wanted to see Drake,” I insist.

Both of the guys are quiet for a moment before they burst into two equally loud, booming bouts of laughter.

“Look at this girl,” one of them sighs. “Thinking she can just waltz in here and demand to see The Alchemist. Who the fuck do you think you are, little one?”

“Yea, who do you think you are?” His friend repeats, and now they’re both glaring at me, sliding their guns forward from where they’re hanging, strapped to their shoulders.

Gulp. “I think I’m a guest on your beautiful land.” I step forward, shaking like a leaf and trying my hardest to hide it. “Says the Head Priest.”

“He doesn’t want you here,” one of them growls.

“No one does,” adds the other.

My fingers are trembling, the quivers of my nerves trailing all throughout my extremities. I want to keep arguing, but I’m afraid if I speak again, my voice will tremor.

I’m just about to turn around and bolt, when a deep voice calls from somewhere behind them. “Let her in.”

The two guards straighten, obviously recognizing the voice without having to turn around and see who said it. I recognize it too, though I’m facing him.

There he is, with his charcoal black hair, longer on top, hanging down almost into his eyes. Equally dark brows resting above two orbs of swirling light and dark… the eyes of a serpent.

The guards back up and say nothing, simply nodding to the trail. Inhaling deep, I stumble around them, toward the tall figure. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, glaring down at me as I approach. He’s got a good foot on me, so he really has to angle his chin downward to make eye contact. And I have to pivot my face upward to look at him.

He certainly has a menacing look to him, and he’s quiet, inquisitive, which is probably scarier than someone loud and in your face.

All of his angles and lines, his jaw, long neck, broad shoulders, they run in rigid continuation down his body. A body that is slim yet defined, as much is clear from his form-fitting clothes. Right now, he’s dressed in skinny black jeans, and a black V-neck t-shirt. Simple as hell, yet on him, it’s like making a statement.

I try not to blatantly stare, but he’s doing it to me, so he’s getting what he gives.

“How can I help you, stray girl?” He blinks, slowly, looking exactly like a snake would if it were a person.

Everyone keeps calling me a stray… Maybe I am just the docile house cat they all assume me to be.

“I wanted to learn more about the business.” I get right to the point. He seems like the type of man who detests meaningless chitchat. “If I’m going to be staying here—”

“If…” he repeats my word, not like a question, more like a scoffing statement. I stare at him with my mouth open. “What would make you think you’ve been invited to stay?”

“I… I’m not…” I stutter, unable to form words while he glares down at me like that, the darkness of his irises swallowing up the swirls of light. It reminds me of that vision I had of him… in the clearing. “I just thought that, since I was in Business School, maybe it would be cool to see what your setup is like. What else you guys export…”

His jaw clenches. “I told you before, I don’t give out information to strangers.”

“Yea, but it’s not a secret if you’re trading with outsiders, right?” I mumble, feeling pretty stupid for arguing with him.

He stays quiet for a moment, giving me a pretty intense look I can’t read at all. The silence drags between us. Seconds, minutes, hours... who even knows how many have passed at this point. Time is infinite in his presence.

And then suddenly, he twirls and stomps up the path, saying nothing more. He’s walking in the direction of the lab, so I decide to follow him, since he didn’t tell me to go away, not outright, anyway.

His long strides are hard to keep up with, and I’m practically jogging behind him. When we reach the lab, he moves up the steps and pushes the doors open, the guards standing off to the side to allow him in. Reluctantly, I follow, peeking up at the guards while they glare at me. None of them appear excited to have me back in this building, but whatever.

I’m not here for them. I’m here for the guy who’s stalking away from me right now.

Inside the lab, he goes to a door which is marked as his office, opening it with a key, then moving aside, motioning for me to come in. Those inner alarms I have, the ones that warn against danger, they’re pinging all over the place. Entering a confined space with a strange man twice my age, who looks the way he does and is observing me the way he is… Yea, it’s probably something our self-defense instructor would advise against.

Yet here’s me, prancing right inside and turning to watch as he steps in and closes the door behind him. Locking it.

Gulp again. “This is your office?” My voice quavers as he saunters toward me, slowly, exactly how a snake would move toward a mouse it knows for a fact ain’t going anywhere. “It’s nice.”

His head cocks to the side, studiously. Dangerously. “Why are you really here, stray? Tell me the truth. I can’t seem to get a good read on your intentions, and it’s… quite frustrating.”

What the hell does that even mean?

“It means I want you to tell me exactly what you want,” he keeps speaking, somehow answering my inner thought, though my lips remain firmly shut. “You have one minute. Make it good.”

He stops when he’s standing right in front of me, towering. I try to back up, but my ass hits his desk and I startle. My pulse is jumping, rattling my veins while I gawk up at him, a total deer in headlights.

“I…” My voice cuts out with my nerves, his eyes burning me alive where I stand. “I want…”

“Speak up,” he growls, barely audible, though I feel it, his voice, rumbling into me.

He smells like flowers, musky ones. Like gardenia and rose oil. And fire…

“I want control back.” My words come out before I can even process them. “I want my life back.”

His eyes narrow into slits as he stares down at me, heavily, smothering me with that look. My mind is rushing through all the times I was afraid. All the times I begged and pleaded for him to stop, and he didn’t…

Drake’s Adam’s apple slides in his throat, a movement that catches my attention and holds it.

I said the words because they’re true. That’s why I went into the woods that day. That’s why I’m here, trying to figure this place out.

Because I don’t trust anyone, and I need to. Because I need to get the fuck away from it all and find myself.

I’m not sure if I can do it here… Or if these people will even let me. If the forces up on that mountain will allow me to stay…

Drake leans in closer, gripping his desk on each side of my hips. He’s hovering over me, and I slant back. Not that much, not enough for him to be directly on top of me, but enough for me to feel him as if he were.

This is usually the part when I’d be able to feel the warmth of the body near mine, but with Drake it’s only ice. He radiates cold, and for reasons unknown, it’s comforting.

Heat is stifling, but cool is calm. Easy.

“You need to learn…” he murmurs, breath brushing my lips, like a burst of fresh air. Minty. It reminds me of those peppermint candies my grandma used to have in dishes all over her house.

My eyelids flutter, blood rushing in my ears while I await whatever he’s about to say. I need to learn…?

But before I can hear his words, I hear a knock instead. Three, actually. Rap rap rap on the door to his office, causing me to jump and my eyes to fling open. By that time, Drake is already across the room, opening the door a crack. He whispers to someone through it, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but his posture is rigid.

He runs long pale fingers through his black hair, then turns back to me. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything.”

And then he leaves through the door, closing it behind him.

My head is spinning. What the heck was that?? How did he get me to confess something like that to him? Just by standing close to me, looking all dangerous and smelling fantastic?

That’s entirely ridiculous. And what the hell was he about to say? You need to learn.

Learn what?? I know there’s probably a lot I need to learn. I won’t pretend I know everything, not even close. But what would me learning have to do with what I told him? About wanting to reclaim control, of my life, my body, my thoughts…

I rub my eyes with my fingers and get off the desk, pacing around in circles. He’s a very strange, intense person, which of course, is incredibly intriguing to me. I’ve always been drawn to the quiet ones, the scary ones. As much as I thought I was developing a crush on Abdiel, especially after that steamy makeout session from the other night, the Serpent, as they call him, is really winding me up, and it’s not good.

He’s the last person I should be looking at.

Rumor has it he’s an eternal bachelor. He hooks up in secret, interested only in sex. Basically, the exact type of guy I’m usually attracted to. Great.

On top of that, he just left and told me not to touch anything. That’s the sort of thing you say to almost guarantee everything will be touched.

And in that spirit, I sneak to the other side of his desk, poking around while keeping my eyes fixed on the door. I’m not sure what he’d do if he caught me snooping through his stuff, and I’m also not sure why the possibilities excite me so much. I have issues… Daddy issues too, clearly.

He has plants everywhere, which strikes a chord in me. For someone so robotic, so cold, it’s fascinating that he cares for living things as if they’re his children. Or maybe his pets…

But still, he’s obviously The Alchemist for a reason. He grows plants and turns them into things. Medicine, fuel… but what else?

That Field… What else does he grow there?

Rifling through the papers on his desk, looking for answers, I tug open drawers. I don’t find much in the top ones, more papers, pamphlets, packets of seeds, note cards with all sorts of chemical equations on them.

But then in the bottom drawer, I stumble upon something that stops me short. Needles.

More specifically, syringes. Packed in plastic, like the ones you’d buy from the pharmacy to inject insulin. I reach inside and pick one up, examining it closely. Why would he have needles? Is he diabetic?

Ducking down, I dig farther into the drawer, pulling out one of those large rubber tubes. Swallowing hard, my fingers brush over it. I know what this is for… usually to tie your arm when you’re shooting up.

I’m no stranger to drugs myself. Fortunately, I haven’t fallen down the addiction hole like some of my friends, but I’ve tried enough things to know what happens and how it all works. The escape from reality…

Is that what this is? Is Drake a drug addict?

Continuing my search, I reach the very back of the drawer, locating a small vial. Peering back up at the door before I pick it up, I don’t see or hear anyone just yet. So I take it out.

It’s full of clear liquid, and there’s a label on the side that says Empyrean.

Empyrean… The highest part of Heaven.

I’m trembling all over as I squeeze the vial in my hand. Maybe that’s what this place is about… Drugs. They’re making more than just fuel and medicine in this lab.

Are they all on drugs? Even Abdiel… Darian??

For reasons I’m not sure I’ll ever understand, my mind urges me to tear open the packet with the syringe and stick the needle into the vial. I’m shaking so hard I almost drop it, terrified that Drake will walk in at any moment. But I barely even care.

I’m trying this shit. Empyrean.

And if I overdose and die, well then… it was meant to be.

Grabbing the tube, I use it to tie up my left arm, struggling to do it one-handed. I squeeze some of the liquid out of the needle then tap the most prominent of my veins. I’ve done this once before, but by no means am I a professional. I had to stab myself four times before I could get my vein, and this time is no different.

I keep stabbing at myself, my hand shaking too bad. Taking a deep breath, I try once more and finally, I see blood flow into the syringe. Pushing down, I empty the contents into my vein, and once it’s done, I remove the rubber tie, managing to stuff it back inside the drawer as colors and shapes start popping in my vision.

Sitting back on the floor, I look around the room.

Everything is moving. Everything is alive.

“Fuck…” My voice travels from between my lips, the word visible, floating up into the air, banging against the ceiling.

Lifting my hands, I observe them. The air is rippling like waves in the lake, my fingers stretching out long, like claws.

Fear clutches my insides while I crawl onto the floor, words attacking me from every direction. Where are all these voices coming from??

Stumbling to my feet, I rush to the door, the air in the room trying to keep me there, though I’m fighting against it. I can’t stay in here. It’s too small. I can’t breathe.

When I whip open the door, the voices become louder. They’re all different tones, no conversations, more like inner monologues. I can’t identify anything they’re saying because there are too many of them. The sounds are attacking my brain.

I realize I still have the empty vial and needle in my hand, so I stuff them into my pocket and rush out of the lab, brushing past the patrol on my way out.

What’s her problem? A deep male voice comes from one of them, and I look up, my forehead lining in confusion. Why the hell did Head Priest let her stay here, anyway? I mean, she’s hot, but still. She seems like a headcase.

His lips aren’t moving, but I hear him saying these things about me.

My eyelids flutter with rapid blinking as I dart through the hall, away from the guy who’s talking like a ventriloquist. I race through the corridor, ignoring all the colors and shapes following me, the voices assaulting my mind. I leave the lab, not stopping for anyone.

I just run. I run into the woods.

I run up the mountain.

It’s calling to me. And I have to listen.