Blood Sins by Kay Hooper Page A

"How many families live here?"
    "We have twenty-one cottages, plus the gatehouse," Ruth answered. "I believe all of them are currently occupied. And, of course, we have rooms and dormitories for our single members in the church itself."
    "Really? Isn't that unusual?"
    "Not for our church."
    Since she wasn't offered any opening to probe that further, Tessa shifted the subject a bit. "No members live outside the Compound?"
    "A few, though not many. We're a community," Ruth told her, smiling. "We don't require all our members to live here, but so far most have chosen to. Eventually."
    That last word was oddly chilling, and Tessa did her best not to shiver visibly; it was a very mild day for January, after all. "I already have a home in Grace," she pointed out.
    "Your husband's family home. Forgive me, but can it really feel like home to you?"
    Tessa allowed the silence to stretch as she walked beside the other woman up the wide steps to the open front doors of the church, not answering until they stepped over the threshold. "It doesn't," she admitted after a moment, being more honest than Ruth could know. "The house is too big and . . . I ramble around in there. Sometimes it almost echoes it's so empty." She allowed her voice to wobble a bit, her eyes to tear.
    "I'm sorry, Tessa--I didn't mean to upset you."
    "No, it's just . . . The happy families out there . . . The way I feel in Jared's family home--"
    "There's a restroom off the vestibule where you can have a few moments alone. It's as safe a place as you'll find in there. The stalls are tiled from the floor almost to the ceiling, and the doors are big. The recreation area where people tend to congregate at odd hours is downstairs, so the main-floor restroom isn't used much except around the times of services."
    Tessa managed to squeeze out a tear. "If you don't mind--a restroom?"
    "Of course, of course. It's just over there, ladies' room on the left side." Ruth's voice was warmly sympathetic. "I'll be here. Take your time."
    The restroom was fairly large and brightly lit, with six stalls and three sinks, and like everything else she had seen was exceptionally neat, to the point of appearing to be newly scrubbed. Tessa looked around briefly but wasted little time in locking herself into the stall farthest from the door.
    Hollis's information had been right: These stalls were designed for a great deal more privacy than those usually found in a public facility. In fact, the stall struck Tessa as a bit claustrophobic, and she had to take a deep breath as she closed the toilet lid and sat down on it.
    Focus. Concentrate.
    She was wary of opening herself up completely in a place where she felt so uneasy and even trapped, but she wasn't at all sure control was a luxury she could afford. Still, as she closed her eyes and concentrated, she did her best not to drop her shields completely.
    Pain.
    It was immediate and intense, fire burning along her nerve endings, exploding in her mind, and it took everything Tessa had not to cry out. Her hands reached out to the tile walls on either side of her, and she instinctively braced herself, or tried to, pushing against the cold tile, against the hot, shimmering pain, against the incredibly strong presence she was instantly aware of.
    I see you.
    H e'd been given at birth the triple-barrel name that sounded so biblical and had served him so well: Adam Deacon Samuel. His mother's mocking joke.
    There was certainly nothing biblical about being the bastard son of a whore.
    Samuel frowned and shifted in his chair, keeping his eyes closed. It was his custom to meditate every day at this time, and every day God tested him by beginning the ritual with forcing him to remember where he came from and who he had once been.
    It was . . . difficult. But there was no relief, no peace to be found until he forced his way through the memories.
    The first few years were fuzzy; by the time he was old enough to wonder why she hadn't just aborted him, he knew the