by Hart, Stella
They were different to most cults in that they didn’t evangelize and try to recruit new members. In fact, they actively tried to keep people away from the area.
The men of New Eden occasionally had contact with the outside world, but the women never did. Ever. The occasional visitors allowed in the commune either didn’t see any girls or women at all, or they caught a glimpse but were expressly forbidden from speaking to them.
Only one person had ever been able to get close to a few of the young women there and say a few words to them, and that was a sociologist by the name of Jack Lazic who’d done some research into Southern-based fringe sects last year. He was allowed to visit New Eden for a few hours, and after making some veiled threats to Jacob Chastain about the strange lack of women (apparently he implied that they must be prisoners kept in chains in some sort of dungeon), Chastain actually went and fetched a few of the girls to prove they were healthy and happy.
The gaggle of girls he brought out were makeup-free, long-haired, and dressed in long-sleeved, full-length dresses like something from Little House on the Prairie. They all said hello and informed Lazic of how happy they were at New Eden, and they said they’d never been abused. Lazic had a sneaking suspicion that they were drugged and parroting rehearsed lines because they seemed dazed, but he had no real proof of that.
He did, however, manage to take some sneaky photos with a tiny camera he’d stuck in his shirt pocket. He’d published the photos in some obscure online journal that ninety-nine percent of the world couldn’t access, but luckily, my secretary Vlada knew about it (she was fucking the sociologist) and had an ID and password she could use to log in and show me.
When I saw those photos, I got the shock of my life.
One of the little kids I spent time with when my parents and I visited the ranch all those years ago was in one of the pictures. But she wasn’t a kid anymore. No way.
Jolie had to be somewhere around eighteen or nineteen by now, but she looked older. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was fucking gorgeous. Looked like a twenty-five year old Victoria’s Secret Angel, even without any makeup.
Not only was she one of the cloistered young women of New Eden, she was a Chastain. The Prophet’s only daughter.
Now that was unattainable.
Truth be told, though, I wasn’t entirely focused on the bet with Thad anymore. Sure, an extra million would be nice, and I wanted my fucking lake house back, but when I saw that photo of Jolie, I was struck with the most powerful urge I’d ever felt when it came to a woman. Even if a million bucks wasn’t on the table, I’d still want to return to the ranch for her sake. She was just that fucking beautiful. That fucking magnetizing. Of course, knowing how forbidden and taboo it would be to sleep with her was also hot as hell.
Pressing my lips together, I sped up. Trees whizzed by, their branches seeming to reach for the vehicle as if to say, ‘don’t go any farther.’ But I kept driving, heading closer and closer to New Eden.
In the distance, a snake slithered across the road. I eased the truck around it when I reached it, sparing its life. Most people had a great disdain for reptiles and acted as if they were evil, but I’d always liked them. They weren’t evil. They just wanted to be left the fuck alone. I could respect that.
I slowed the truck. I wasn’t far away from the Chastain ranch now. About a hundred yards ahead on the right was a high perimeter fence where regular farmland fences used to sit. It reminded me of a prison fence with all the curls of razor wire wrapped around the top.
I pulled my truck over on a shoulder and stepped out. As I drew closer to the gate, I saw a sign which stated that the fence was electrified. Jesus. They really wanted to keep people out.
Or did they want to keep their own people in?
There was a young man guarding the gate. I approached him with an amiable smile. “Hey. I’m here to see Jacob Chastain.”
The man regarded me warily. “We don’t accept visitors,” he said in a clipped, disdainful tone.
“I have an appointment.”
“I sincerely doubt that. As I said, we don’t accept visitors.”
I furrowed my brows. “I’m not lying. I have an appointment with Prophet Chastain.”
He looked me up and down for a full thirty seconds before replying. “Name?”
“Mason Ashwood.”
He nodded and stepped away, muttering into some sort of two-way radio. A moment later he returned and waved toward my truck. “I’m opening the gate. You can drive in.”
“Thanks.”
Although the perimeter fence was new and unfamiliar, the driveway stretching up to the restored plantation mansion was exactly as I remembered it. A wave of nostalgia hit me as I slowly made my way down the dusty road. It was lined by live oak trees with long gnarled branches that reached toward each other across the road to form a twisted canopy.
I parked at the end of the driveway and got out, staring up at the enormous white mansion pillars with apprehension. The place was beautiful, but even so, it had a weird vibe to it. I couldn’t put my finger on why, though.
Perhaps it was haunted from the shooting. After all, if ghosts were actually real, this would be the most likely spot for them to lurk.
“Mason Ashwood!”
I looked to the left to see Jacob Chastain heading toward me from the side of the mansion. He was wearing black pants with a buckled belt, a black button-down and a gray herringbone sport jacket. He smiled as he drew closer. I almost winced at the sight. His teeth were the whitest and brightest I’d ever seen, and I remembered thinking how fucking creepy and fake he seemed when he grinned at me all those years ago when I first met him. None of the smiles I saw on him that day ever reached his eyes.
“Mr. Chastain,” I replied, flashing him a big fake smile of my own. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”
It hadn’t been easy to get an appointment with him. I knew it wouldn’t be when I first started this endeavor. He very rarely met with outsiders, and letting one in to visit the property was so rare that I was probably only one of ten people who’d been allowed past the gate in the last decade.
I wasn’t a quitter, though. I knew I’d figure out a way in eventually, and I did.
I’d done a shit-ton of research into his finances over the last couple of months, because I remembered my parents mentioning his enormous property portfolio, and I knew the best place to get people was right in the wallet. The Global Financial Crisis was only two years ago, and even the crème de la crème of society had lost out when the real estate markets crashed along with everything else.
Jacob was no different. While he was still worth many millions, it appeared that he’d taken a substantial hit in the GFC, and he was probably still reeling from it.
I had a feeling the commune mostly ran on his dime, because the sugarcane they farmed surely wasn’t enough to sustain the hundreds of people who lived here. No, they needed serious money, and I figured Chastain might be worried that his hoard may eventually run out. As such, I’d asked to meet with him in regards to buying a chunk of his land.
In the end, though, I was pretty sure the only reason he’d finally agreed to let me meet with him was because of my last name.
“Lord, it must be twelve years since I last saw you,” Jacob said, still smiling as he looked me up and down. His voice was a soft Southern drawl.
“Eleven,” I said.
Something flashed in his deep green eyes. “That’s right.” He nodded slowly. “You were here that day, weren’t you?”
He didn’t need to specify which day he was talking about.
“Yes. I’m so sorry about what happened to your church. I can’t imagine losing so many members like that.”
He pursed his lips and then nodded again. “It hasn’t been easy, but we’ve adjusted.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Shall we go inside?” Jacob gestured to the grand front entrance of the mansion.
I followed him inside and up
a sweeping staircase. He led me down a hall and into an enormous study. It contained an antique wooden desk with framed photos on one side of it, multiple chairs, stacked bookshelves, and hardwood floors. All pretty normal so far.
“Take a seat.” Jacob motioned to one of the chairs. He shook his head. “My, my… I still can’t believe you’re here. Mason Ashwood.”
“All grown up,” I said with another fake smile.
“Indeed. How are your parents doin’?”
“They’re doing well. They retired a couple of years back. I run their company with my siblings now.”
“Wonderful. I’ve often thought of your folks over the years.” Another bright creepy grin. “Nice people. It’s a shame we lost contact.”
They stopped talking to you because you appeared to be leading a fucking doomsday cult last time we saw you, I wanted to say. Instead I nodded. “Yeah. I guess they just didn’t know what to say after the attack on your church. And then you started this whole commune thing out here, so they probably figured you wanted to be left alone.”
“That’s fair. I understand completely.”
I sniffed the air. “Is that smoke I smell?”
Jacob rubbed his head. He had dark hair which stuck up in thick spikes, and it had receded quite far back on the sides, leaving him with a large widow’s peak on the top of his forehead. “It’s my hair. I really should’ve washed it when I showered this morning,” he said. “We had a bonfire out here last night,” he added by way of explanation.
“A bonfire? Sounds cool.”
“Yes. So anyway, what can I do for you, Mason?” he asked, leaning forward with his forearms on the dark polished desk. The smile was gone now, replaced with a cold, calculating expression.
“Well, you’ll probably think this is strange coming from me, because to be honest, I hated this place as a kid. Louisiana, that is. But I’ve been living in New York for a long time now, and I just…” I paused and shook my head. “Let’s just say I’ve finally started to appreciate it out here. The landscape, the culture, the people. It’s the perfect escape. You know what I mean, right?”
He nodded. “Of course. I can’t stand the big cities either. But what on God’s green earth does that have to do with me?”
I leaned back and waved my hand around the room. “I’ve always remembered this ranch. Not because I was here the day of the attack, but because of its beauty. You’re sitting on around forty thousand acres out here, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I totally understand if you’re not interested, but I was kinda hoping you’d be willing to part with some of it. Just a little patch on the very edge. A few hundred acres or so.”
The Chastain ranch sat on thousands of acres of sugarcane fields, but it also contained vast stretches of woods, marsh waters, distinctive swamps, and miles upon miles of overgrown grass. Beautiful land, but essentially useless.
I could practically see the dollar signs in Jacob’s eyes as he considered my words. Even if he sold just five hundred or so acres, that would net him several hundred thousand dollars to put into safer investments, which I assumed he wanted to do given the volatile nature of the real estate market right now.
“Could you expand on that?” he finally asked with slightly narrowed eyes. As much as he probably wanted cash infusions right now, I knew he would still be extremely careful about selling off any of the land around the commune.
I held up a palm. “I don’t want any of the fields. I’m not looking to start a farm. I was actually thinking of turning a piece of land into a nature reserve for wildlife that’s been displaced from areas farther south due to flooding and erosion. I’m really into conservation these days.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “A nature reserve? What a wonderful idea.”
Of course he’d say that. If he sold the land to anyone else, they might want to develop it in some way, and that would obviously bring more people to the area. That was a negative for him, because he didn’t want anyone near his commune. But if I took a chunk of the land and made it clear it would never be developed, it would all swing in his favor—he’d make some cash from a few acres he didn’t even need on the edge of the property, and he’d be sure that it wouldn’t bring any new people to the area.
This plan would cost me in the beginning, but in the long run, I’d make more from Thad once I won the bet and got that million along with my lake house, which was worth over three and a half.
“I thought so too,” I replied. “As I said, I strongly believe in environmental conservation.”
“But why here?” Jacob leaned forward again, sparse brows pinching together. “What exactly made you think of me and my land?”
I was expecting that question. He wasn’t a stupid man.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Like I said, it’s the perfect place. My mom once described this ranch as having all the natural beauty of the state rolled into one patch of land. The fields, the forests, the bayous… all right here. It’s incredible.”
Doubt flickered in his eyes. “There’s a lot of land available in this parish right now. There must be some other reason you went to all the trouble of getting a meeting with me, which you know is not an easy task, and then coming all the way out here to ask me for a pocket of land that isn’t even for sale,” he said bluntly.
I suppressed a smile. I knew he’d say something like that. He’d stepped directly into my snare.
I feigned contrition. “Okay, sir. I’ll admit, I did have another reason for wanting to come out here.”
A triumphant gleam lit his eyes. “Well, go ahead, son.”
I opened my mouth as if I were about to say something, and then I shut it again. I waved a hand. “Never mind. I really shouldn’t say. You’d probably think it’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me.” His voice was dead-calm.
I took a deep breath as I readied myself to lie through my teeth. “I really do want to work on land conservation out here in my spare time, seeing as this is the parish my mom grew up in, but I also wanted to come here and check out your commune. I admired you so much when I met you all those years ago. The way you spoke, the things you said, the way your people were so enraptured… I’ve always thought about it and wondered how you’ve developed it over the years.”
“You’re interested in my church?” he said disbelievingly.
“Yes. I’ll be frank. My current one is far too liberal. They’re all like that in the Northeast.”
Jacob leaned back and regarded me through narrowed eyes. I feigned contrition again and lifted my palms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you aren’t liberal.”
“No, you’re right. We aren’t the type to promote women whoring around or boys kissing other boys. But I have to say I’m quite surprised to hear this coming from you. Your family never struck me as devout.”
“My father isn’t religious at all,” I admitted. “But my mother was raised as a Christian. She used to tell me about it as a kid, and I guess it stuck with me.”
“Which church do you attend in New York?”
Shit. I didn’t think he’d ask me to be that specific. “Uh, the one on West 74th St,” I said, hoping he didn’t realize how full of shit I was. Was there even a church on 74th? I had no fucking idea.
“I haven’t been to New York in a long time, but if my memory serves me correctly, that church is Episcopalian. I also remember your mother telling me she was a lapsed Catholic when we had a brief conversation about religion once. We have a lot of Catholics in this part of the state. But not so many Anglicans.”
Christ, this man was shrewd, and he had the memory of a fucking elephant.
“You’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. “She was raised in the Catholic faith. But it wasn’t for me. In fact, none of them seem to be for me. The church I’m at right now is probably the seventh I’ve tried in the last few years, and it’s still not what I want. So I’ve ended up here, just hoping and praying you’ll give me some advice.”
> “Well, I’m sorry, son. I’m not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for in New York, to be honest,” Jacob said. “But you won’t find it here, either. Our commune is very exclusive. We only accept new members on the rarest of occasions, and it takes a lot more than simply showing up on my doorstep.”
“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t looking to join. I was just hoping you’d tell me a bit about your way of life, that’s all. Perhaps one day I can start my own little commune, inspired by you.”
“That’s something that interests you, huh? Creating your own church?”
I nodded and pasted on a bright smile. “Oh, yes. I know it’s a pipe dream, and it’ll probably never happen, but I’d love to do something like what you’ve done out here. I want to have people worshiping their God and living off the land, well away from the toxicity of the cities.” I leaned forward. “And I don’t mean the pollution.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“Anyway, let’s get back to our discussion about the land,” I said, waving a hand. If I seemed too interested in the commune, Jacob would get suspicious. I’d given him a taste of the bait. Now I just had to wait and see if he swallowed it.
He smiled and opened a desk drawer. Unfurling a large map over the desk a moment later, he pointed to the far south side of it. “There’s a chunk of land around there which you might like, and I might be interested in parting with it.” That toothy grin again. “It’s a very swampy spot, but that’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? For all that displaced wildlife you were hoping to find a home for?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’d want to see the land, though.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to buy it without getting a decent look at it,” he said with a chuckle. “How about I take you down there and give you a tour?”
“I’d love that. Thank you, sir.”
We went back outside, and he directed me over to a white truck which was parked near mine. “Hop in. It’s a bit of a trek.”
The truck meandered down a winding dirt road, heading southwest on the ranch, and I made small talk with Jacob about the weather and other such things. As I spoke, I continually rubbed my eyes with my left hand, pretending I’d gotten some dirt in them earlier.
