Messiahs, Matt Rogers [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

back. Smiled like she was in the grasp of a Bodhi hit, even though she’d never touched the stuff.

‘None,’ she said. ‘None at all.’

39

The mess hall was enormous, and everyone in the cult ate three communal meals a day.

At dinner — their first meal in the commune — Alexis and Violetta got a true sense of the scale of Mother Libertas.

The movement was two hundred strong already, a small army. No wonder the bunkhouses were cramped, the conditions poor. Looking out at the sea of followers as she munched on a serving of chicken casserole and rice, Alexis realised what was going on.

Maeve was implementing a literal version of “growth hacking,” which were the strategies implemented by modern companies to acquire customers fast and cheap, and she’d used Dylan Walcott’s capital to do it. Alexis could imagine the pitch Maeve made to Dylan.

‘I’ll combine my persuasive speeches with chemical compounds to suck in as many lost souls as possible. Then, when I have enough members, I’ll get them all dependent on Bodhi, and use my ever-increasing sphere of influence to amass more and more of their money. I’ll use that money to pay off those in important positions who have the ability to shut us down, get them hooked on Bodhi too, and from there we’ll spread like the plague.’

Walcott would have handed over as much money as she asked for.

Now, beside her, Brandon said, ‘How was your first afternoon?’

Addison sat on the other side of him, head down, eyes on her food.

‘It was great,’ Alexis said. ‘Everyone here is so nice.’

‘There’s word going around that you’ve decided to join us.’

Alexis bowed her head. ‘That’s correct. Maeve is incredible. I can’t imagine a future without her wisdom in it.’

Brandon leant forward to look past Alexis. ‘And you?’

Violetta looked up from her plate. ‘Oh, yes. It’s wonderful.’

‘You don’t sound so convinced.’

‘What would you like me to say?’

‘I don’t know,’ Brandon said, ‘but I expected a little more enthusiasm than that.’

Violetta’s face shifted. ‘Are you doubting my commitment already?’

Brandon said, ‘I—’

Violetta sat forward, too, so they were talking across the space in front of Alexis.

Violetta said, ‘Are you jealous of us or something?’

‘What?’ Brandon said.

‘Stop pretending you’re some big shot here,’ Violetta said. ‘You’re nothing. Maeve already trusts me and she sure wouldn’t like to hear about one of her followers intimidating the new arrivals.’

The colour drained from Brandon’s face, and his eyes went dark — a potent blend of fear and anger. He said, ‘Listen—’

Violetta said, ‘I swear, I’ll go talk to her right now. I’ll tell her all we’re trying to do is assimilate and this farm boy keeps harassing us, asking us too many questions, trying to get in our pants, and it’s really turning us off the whole movement. How do you think she’ll feel about that?’

Violetta spoke in a measured, even tone, not once raising her voice. It created an aura of total control, and it had an immediate effect on Brandon.

He sat back in his seat and stared at his food, his lips sealed.

Beside him, Addison grumbled, ‘Idiot.’

Directed at her brother, not Violetta.

Violetta settled back, satisfied…

…then pain seized her abdomen.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hunched over. Alexis knew exactly what it was, and sat still, eyes fixed forward. Brandon was emotionally wounded, focused on his food, so he didn’t notice. But Addison leant forward to get a good look at Violetta. There was concern on her face.

‘Are you … cramping?’ she asked.

Through the discomfort, Violetta opened her eyes and fought for control. She smiled and waved it off. ‘No, no, it’s not that. I’d know if it was that, honey. Trust me. I think it’s just digestive issues.’

Addison nodded and returned to her food. Brandon hadn’t joined the conversation, but his eyes sharpened with clarity.

But he took it no further, and Violetta recovered enough to slip back into a jovial mood.

The tension now dissipated, Alexis scanned the mess hall and spotted a man hovering in one of the exit doorways, staring back at her with unrestrained curiosity. He was in his late thirties, Caucasian, with thick brown hair cut short and a neatly trimmed beard. His frame was thin and tall. His shoulders were stooped like he was self-conscious of his height, and his eyes were intense. They didn’t blink once as they watched her.

She figured he was Dane Riordan.

She mouthed, ‘Can we talk?’

Above the heads of a sea of devotees, he nodded once.

She got up.

Violetta said, ‘Where are you going?’

She said, ‘I’ll be back.’

She tried to minimise the attention she drew as she weaved between the long benches and tables, but it was impossible. She was brand new in the commune, and stunning to look at. Half the male eyes in the room were fixed to her backside as she moved to one wall and went around the perimeter of the hall. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to return any long gazes.

The unwanted attention made her think about what Maeve wanted with her and Violetta.

The cult leader was probably frothing at the mouth thinking about what she could use them for.

Any man would listen to them.

Any man would serve them on the off chance they returned the affection.

They could recruit hundreds for Mother Libertas.

Maybe thousands.

Dane could see it too.

She approached him and stared up at him in the doorway. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ he said.

His voice was quiet and reserved. He was more introverted than his wife. It seemed Maeve was the performer and he was the director, but Alexis knew Maeve was too smart to simply fulfil the role of the air-headed actress getting fed lines. Maeve probably wrote most of them herself.

Dane said, ‘Everyone’s staring at you. Should we talk outside?’

‘They’re not staring at you?’ Alexis said, not taking her eyes off him.

‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re not.’

She let him lead her out through the corridors that framed the perimeter of the mess hall, and they stepped outside into a crisp cold night. The blanket of stars overhead was mind-boggling in its