Fallen

Scarlett stood, turning toward him, and for a moment they simply stared at each other, the cloudy LA night sky behind her, the brightest stars somehow managing to peek through the gloom.

He was tempted to look away. Camden had a hard time looking at her the same way he’d always had a hard time staring at anything beautiful. It overwhelmed him, made him want to understand its allure—its layers—so he could somehow carry it with him. And when it was taken away, he’d know it, and in this way, it could still be his. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he liked beautiful things—they always made him feel slightly desperate.

Better not to want much. Better not to yearn for things that would never be his.

He’d had to figure out a way to toughen his skin so that it didn’t sting each time he encountered something sharp. And yet, he’d only managed one thin layer. Even all these years later, the longing for things he’d been denied still tore at that insufficient protection over a wound he’d realized would never heal. Abandonment.

She came toward him, stepping over the ledge and entering the hotel room. Camden swallowed. There was wariness in her gaze and he wished he could wipe it away, but he understood why it was there. He’d fouled this up. God, he’d made a mess out of everything. “Should we sit inside?” she asked, nodding to the small sofa near the window. He turned, pulling the chair from the desk forward and taking a seat on it while she sat on the couch, pulling her legs beneath her. The room had seemed big when he’d first entered it. Now? Now it felt small and enclosed. Somehow this delicate-boned woman took up the entire space, filling it with her presence, overwhelming him.

He sat back. “I’m going to start with the Religious Guild. But before I tell you about the Guild, you have to know how it was formed. You have to understand the way Farrow operates, the way it always has.”

“All right.”

Camden took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Hubert Bancroft formed the Religious Guild in Farrow. It consisted of men from the thirteen original families. I told you about what they did to the natives. You read about it firsthand.”

“Taluta,” she whispered almost reverently.

“Yes, Taluta,” he confirmed. “Taluta and her people.” Camden allowed his eyes to search her face. He saw the empathy there, just as he had when he originally told her the story. This woman, she cared deeply for others, not just those she knew, but those she didn’t. Those who were long dead, their suffering ended, and thank God for that. His shoulders relaxed. It was the reason he trusted her, he realized. No person could carry that amount of compassion for people she’d never met and not have a loving heart. And though he wasn’t quite sure he deserved it, maybe she’d extend some of that understanding his way.

“When Hubert Bancroft formed the original guild, each man invited to take part also established a monopoly of trade in Farrow for their particular industry. That’s remained the case until today and because of it, Farrow is still small, even intimate you might say. Over the years, the guild has also successfully dominated local government and they exert enough control over the Farrow town council that it works to protect and maintain their interests.”

Her gaze slid away and a wrinkle formed between her brows. “Outsiders are unlikely to have success in Farrow and eventually move away.”

“The ones who infringe on a guild member’s business, yes. Farrow has grown some over the years, but the power structure remains the same. Membership in the guild is handed down through the generations, and those members run the businesses, hold places on the town council, and have their hands in every local election. Nothing happens in Farrow unless the guild says it does.”

“So that’s their purpose? To retain control of Farrow? It’s all about money and power?”

“Isn’t it always?”

She expelled a breath. “I . . . yes, I suppose it is.”

“The same group of families—ten remaining out of the original thirteen—has retained the wealth and control in that town for generations. It’s why it’s in their best interest to keep each other’s secrets, and the secrets of the members before them.”

“There’s a religious component too though, fraudulent as it might be.”

He nodded, considering all he knew, some he’d experienced, and others he’d ascertained. “The Guild hides behind religion, it always has, generation after generation in one form or another. In actuality, God has nothing to do with their practices, though they’ve convinced themselves He does. It took me some time to realize that.” He sighed, remembering when he’d first come upon that trunk hidden behind a portion of wall in the basement. The stories, the personal accounts from Taluta and Narcisa had helped him understand the true nature of evil. He’d had moments of deep discomfort regarding the things he’d been taught at Lilith House, but the indigenous women’s accounts had clarified for him right from wrong, helped him assess the kind of god he wanted to believe in versus the one being presented to him every day in the form of shame and mercilessness. Manipulation and religious artifice. Those writings had taught him to think critically.