Torn: Original Sin Prequel

by Hart, Stella

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t even know you went to college. It wasn’t on your résumé when I hired you.”

  She shrugged. “I dropped out in my final year. I thought it might make me look bad to have that on there.”

  “Right. Anyway, I want to know what you can tell me about the Path of the Covenant.”

  Her brows shot up again. “The New Eden people? Why do you want to know about them?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell her about my plan, because she’d probably leap across the desk and slap me on behalf of women everywhere. Still, I wanted to find out as much as possible about the cult and their practices, and if she studied it in-depth, she’d know a lot more than internet rumors could ever tell me.

  “I’m curious about the place. I was actually there just before it got attacked eleven years ago. My parents knew Jacob Chastain and we visited him earlier that day,” I finally said.

  She nodded slowly. “Oh, that’s right. Your parents used to do business with him, didn’t they?”

  I leaned forward, clasping my hands together on the desk. “Yeah. Anyway, I remember meeting a girl there that day. Cute little kid. I’ve always wondered how she is and what she’s up to, and it made me wonder what the rest of them are up to as well.”

  Vlada didn’t look particularly convinced. “That’s nice of you,” she said, one brow slightly raised.

  “So how much do you know about them?”

  “Well, no one really knows much at all. Only what the cult allows visitors to see,” she began. “But my thesis advisor, Jack Lazic, actually went and visited them when he was studying fringe sects in Louisiana. They let him tour part of the ranch and speak to some of the members.”

  “When?”

  “Last year. I wasn’t actually studying anymore when he did it. I just keep in contact and hang out with him sometimes, because he’s an interesting dude.”

  My shoulders slumped. “So you know as much as anyone else, then. Fuck all.”

  Vlada shook her head. “No, he told me everything he saw and heard there. I…” She trailed off and hesitated. “Let’s just say he always thought I was interesting too.”

  I smiled. “Ah. Got it. So what’s it like out there now? Does he think there’s gonna be some sort of Jonestown-type scenario one day when the Prophet tells them the apocalypse is finally happening?”

  “Actually, he said he wouldn’t classify them as a doomsday cult.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He said the men never talked about anything like Armageddon or whatever. There wasn’t even a hint of it.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  She shrugged. “Apparently they’re just happy living simpler lives than they used to, or so they claim. They grow sugarcane to sell, and they have farm animals there to produce other stuff they might need. Milk, eggs, and so on. Anything else they might need, they buy when they travel into the nearby towns. That’s it. Laid-back living. Nothing about the end of days.”

  I frowned. That was fucking weird. When I visited the place with my parents, Jacob Chastain was preaching all sorts of fire and brimstone crap. Why did he suddenly relax his views and stop claiming all that doomsday nonsense? Did that terrorist attack lead to a change of heart or something?

  “So they’re a bit like the Amish, then?” I asked. Perhaps Thad was right earlier.

  “Hm. Not really, no.” Vlada leaned forward. “Jack said he got the impression they were all totally full of shit.”

  “How so?”

  “He said they seemed like they were hiding a lot. In my opinion, if they don’t want people to know what they’re really getting up to out there, that’s probably because it’s bad. Like, super dark and scary shit.”

  “But there’s no proof of that, right?”

  “Right. But Jack also said they seemed super hypocritical, and in that sense, he did have proof.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “He said the men out there act like they want to live a simple life free of sin and modern crap, but the mansion there is basically a decked-out bachelor’s paradise. He went and sneaked around it for a few minutes after he used the bathroom, so he saw everything.”

  I cocked my head. “Everything?”

  “There’s all these big lavish rooms, games, TVs, and bars stocked with alcohol, pills and coke. Once the guys are finished doing the farm work or whatever, they can go and hang out in there and get blitzed. Honestly, it’s no wonder they all love their little commune so much. It’s the perfect setup for them out there. In return for a bit of field work, they get free beer, food, and entertainment along with sex on tap from the women. At least that’s what we can assume.”

  I frowned. “So the women are right there in the mansion?”

  “No. That’s actually what really bothered Jack about the whole thing. The girls and women didn’t seem to be allowed anywhere near the mansion. They also aren’t allowed to have any access to technology. Even stuff as basic as electrical lighting. The so-called Prophet explained it by saying that girls and women are believed by their order to be weak and easily corruptible, and therefore they must be protected from modern things like technology. Apparently they all live together in this other section on the property without electricity or any other modern conveniences.”

  “Wow.”

  “Jack didn’t actually see any of those houses, because he wasn’t allowed to, but it’s safe to say they’re probably pretty bad. Imagine living with no air-conditioning in the summer down there just because you have a vagina.”

  “Yeah. That would be pretty fucked.” I paused and frowned, then went on. “So do the boys and men live in the mansion?”

  “No. They spend a lot of their spare time there, but apparently they sleep in the same place on the other side of the property that Jack wasn’t allowed to visit, where the women live and work. But get this—the male section has electricity, unlike the female section.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yup…”

  “So what do the women do all day in this section of theirs?”

  “Cook, clean, and raise the children. Presumably they also provide the men with as much sex as they want.” She rolled her eyes.

  “But no one knows for sure?”

  “No, they don’t. That’s just what Jack assumed from reading between the lines.”

  “And he never saw the women?”

  Vlada tilted her head to one side, lifting one brow. “Actually, he did.”

  “Seriously?”

  Vlada pressed her lips together for a few seconds. “He said he got a sudden terrible vibe from the Prophet when he asked about the women. Like the guy was hiding something really, really fucked up. So he strongly implied to the Prophet that he thought the women were all being kept in chains as sex slaves, and that he might have to ask the authorities to launch a full-scale investigation into their practices. Of course, he doesn’t really have the power to do that. He just wanted to see what would happen if he said it. Anyway, the Prophet told him to wait, and then he went and got a bunch of the women.”

  My shoulders tensed. “What happened then?”

  “He told these women—well, girls, really—to say hello to Jack and tell him how their lives are in New Eden. Jack said they all seemed kinda dazed, like they might’ve been drugged, and their answers seemed very rehearsed. But they all said they were happy and felt extremely fortunate to be living there after all the terrible things that have happened to the world. The Prophet also asked them to confirm for Jack that none of them had ever been abused, and they all said that was true. Then they repeated how happy they were, how much they loved serving their God, and how grateful they were to the men for keeping them safe.”

  I rubbed my chin. “So it’s possible to talk to the women there. Sort of.”

  “I guess so. But Jack was only allowed that very brief interaction with them. He wasn’t able to speak with them privately.” She sighed, and then her face brig
htened. “He got photos, though.”

  “What? Really?”

  “The cult members had no idea, but he was wearing one of those little spy cameras in his shirt pocket the whole time. It automatically snaps a shot every thirty seconds.”

  “Why aren’t these photos available online?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “The college was worried they would get sued by the commune if they published them freely online, because they’re so private, and apparently Jacob Chastain used to have a reputation back in the day for being extremely litigious. So they’re only available on a private sociological journal site. You can’t see them unless you have a college student or staff login. It was a super obscure paper that Jack wrote, too, so hardly anyone even knows it’s there. Otherwise I’m sure the photos would be available all over the net.”

  “Do you still have an ID and password?” I asked, curious about the photos. “I presume you had one for your studies.”

  “Yes, I think it’d still work.” Her eyebrows pinched together, and she leaned forward. “Seriously, why are you so curious about this place?”

  “I told you why,” I said.

  She crossed her arms and flashed me one of those looks women are famous for when they don’t believe you.

  I held up my palms. “Fine. I was actually thinking about going back to visit New Eden, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “That’s not your concern,” I said bluntly. “Can you show me these photos or not?”

  With a dramatic sigh, Vlada stood and walked around to my side of the desk. She bent over the keyboard and typed rapidly.

  “Here,” she finally said, gesturing to the screen. It said ‘American Journal of Sociology’ at the top of the website, and below that was an academic article written by Jack Lazic. “Scroll all the way down to the bottom.”

  I did as she said. Below the article was a clickable link which led to a folder full of image thumbnails. I clicked on the first one and slowly went through the photos.

  Most of the things were familiar to me. The seemingly endless miles of sun-bleached fields on the way to the ranch. The oak trees lining the long driveway leading up to the old white Greek Revival mansion, and the green Spanish moss swaying from the branches. The side of the huge house with all its beautiful gardens and bald cypress trees. The pond where I’d learned to skip rocks with little Jolie.

  A lot of the men in the images were familiar, too. I remembered seeing them all those years ago in that white marquee.

  “Keep going. The photos of the girls are coming up soon,” Vlada said.

  Click. Click. “Here we go,” I said, peering at the screen. In front of me was a photo of six young women.

  Some of them were clad in long gray dresses, and the others wore light blue. All of them were pale and bare-faced with long hair. It seemed obvious they’d never cut it. At least not as long as they’d been at New Eden, anyway. I couldn’t tell how old they were, but they all appeared to be somewhere between the ages of sixteen and twenty.

  Vlada’s old advisor was right about the girls seeming dazed and drugged. Even in the slightly-blurry photo, it seemed clear they’d been given something by Chastain or the other men. Their expressions were too vacant to be completely sober. I wondered if any of them even remembered seeing and speaking to Jack, or if the memory had been wiped clean from their minds by whatever they’d been plied with.

  I clicked again. In the next photo, another girl had joined the first six. My eyes widened, and my heart began to thud. “Holy fuck,” I whispered.

  It was unmistakably Jolie Chastain. She was a decade older and nearly two feet taller with hair that had darkened from pale blonde to a mixture of honey blonde and light brown, but she had the exact same piercing green eyes as the cute little girl I remembered.

  Even though she was wearing a loose long-sleeved dress like the other women, there was no hiding the curves of her breasts, waist and hips. She was well and truly a woman in this picture, and Christ, she’d grown into a real beauty. Even without a stitch of makeup, she was ten times more gorgeous than the majority of the models I saw slinking down the busy city streets around here.

  As my eyes coasted over every inch of her, I was struck with a ruthlessly-powerful urge to go back to the ranch. Before this, I’d often wondered what happened to her in an innocent, platonic sort of way, but now I felt something different. Some sort of magnetic pull toward her, like she was begging me through the photo with those wide green eyes to take her away from the cloistered, overprotective world she was stuck in. Begging me to make her mine.

  This definitely wasn’t innocent or platonic. Not when all I could think about was stripping her and showing her just how wicked men from the outside world could be.

  I rubbed the stubble on my jaw, brows pulling in as I kept my gaze firmly fixed on the photo. I suppose I had promised to go back for Jolie when she was eighteen, hadn’t I? I didn’t mean it one bit at the time, but now, I couldn’t think of a single woman I wanted to conquer more than the stunning cult beauty in the photo before me.

  So maybe I did mean it after all. Maybe I would go back for her. Maybe I’d even decide to keep her.

  “You’re not really thinking of going all the way out to that crazy cult place, are you?” Vlada asked me in a wary tone, as if she’d read my mind.

  I looked at Jolie’s stunning face again, taking in her plump pink lips, model-high cheekbones and mesmerizing eyes. Then I glanced back up at my secretary.

  “Yes,” I said, lips curling up in a devilish smirk. “I’m going to New Eden.”

  Pre-order Taken here!

  Sneak Peek

  Keep reading - a glimpse of Taken is waiting at your fingertips…

  Jolie

  NOW

  Sometime in November, 2018…

  Somewhere in Louisiana…

  “Wake up.”

  A deep voice sounded from above me as a rough hand shook my left arm. I did my best not to wince from the fingertips digging into the deep purple bruises there, and I kept my eyes firmly shut. Maybe the insane man who’d taken me captive would finally leave me alone if I pretended to be asleep.

  “I said, wake up.”

  A jet of freezing water hit me in the face. I yelped and got up, skittering to the far side of the mattress before cowering away from the hose. “I’m awake,” I muttered.

  It was dim in my cage. Or cell. I hadn’t really decided what to call it yet.

  Despite the lack of light, I knew it probably wasn’t the middle of the night. I had no idea what the time was, though. It could be morning, noon, or evening, and I wouldn’t know. Considering where this place was in relation to the main house, there was no way for me to tell. Not unless the tiny TV in the corner was on, and it wasn’t right now.

  My mysterious captor had presumably put the TV there so I wouldn’t completely lose my mind in this place. It went on for around two hours a day, and then it switched off again. Still, even with that, I’d managed to lose track of time. I didn’t even know what day of the week it was anymore.

  “I knew you were faking it,” the masked man said. “Although that isn’t surprising, given your history. Lying little slut.”

  He let out a low chuckle. There was no mirth in it, only mockery and bitterness. I thought he might spray me with the hose again, but instead, he stepped back and opened the barred cell door with his code. Then he stood behind the bars, lurking in the darkness and watching me as I cowered on the bed. Behind him was a set of stairs which led out of this hellhole.

  I would never reach them. I’d long since given up on that hope. When I discovered the nature of my prison several days ago, I realized it would be impossible to escape.

  I drew in a shaky breath and crawled off the mattress. The man would probably get angry—or angrier, I should say—at me if I tried to walk or show any sign of strength whatsoever.

  On my side of the barred partition, there was a tray with a plate of food and a cup of wate
r. Meager rations. Dirty crockery. I didn’t care. I stayed crouched by the tray and gulped down the water before starting on the food.

  “It’s a shame I have to bother keeping you fed,” the man muttered. I couldn’t see his face behind the black mask, but somehow I could still tell he was glaring at me malevolently.

  “Why do it then?” I murmured between bites of plain oatmeal.

  He didn’t respond. I finished the food and pushed the tray through the bottom of the barred partition for the man to take away. Then I sat back on the cold floor, waiting for him to leave.

  This time, he didn’t. My heart began to thud. That meant he was probably here to hurt me again, not just feed me.

  On one side of the cell, there was a large mirror taking up a portion of the wall. I had a feeling the man had put it there so I would be forced to see what he’d done to my body whenever I was awake.

  I looked over at my reflection now. I saw a shivering young woman, pale skin a bright contrast with the gloom surrounding her. A bruised and battered body, matted hair that was once silky, peeling lips that were once soft and pink.

  Even though I’d lost track of time, I estimated that I’d been here for somewhere around a week and a half. Two weeks at the very most. The man who’d kidnapped me and tortured me was always covered from head to toe in black, and his voice was always muffled behind his mask. I had absolutely no idea who he was.

  I had a feeling I knew who the mastermind behind my captivity was, though.

  I’d spent many of my formative years at the New Eden commune, in bondage to a group of sadistic men who abused me and many others for their own sick, twisted pleasure, using a fake religion as a cover. I knew I couldn’t suffer it all over again, so after my escape many years ago, I’d made a vow to myself. I will never be a captive again.

  And yet, here I was. I’d come full circle. I was a captive then, and I was a captive now. Like it was my fate.

  I guess I’d slipped. I hadn’t been careful enough to avoid danger despite my vow. The men I thought were long-dead must somehow still be alive, and they must’ve paid this strange man to kidnap and torture me; break me down until they were ready to take me back into the fold.