A man has broken into Zoe’s flat, someone she thought she’d never see again. A man they call the Hand of God. Now that he’s found her, she knows she must return to a past she thought she’d left far behind, to the cult of the Children and their isolated compound Home – to rescue the sister who saved her all those years before. Read an exclusive extract from this heart-racing thriller about coming of age under the indoctrination of a cult – and the extraordinary lengths it takes to break free.

Home
By Cailean Steed
Published by Raven Books

I’ve been thinking about the red entries that the Hand of God had me read from the book. They both had the same letters – F and S, for Father and Seed – but different numbers.

Different women. But Father only has one wife.

I consider asking about this, but it doesn’t seem right. I look out of the window instead.

We’ve only been in the car a couple of hours so far. Our usual trips last hours and hours, take us far away, but this doesn’t feel like a usual trip.

We start to pass more and more houses, until there’s no fields or trees to be seen at all and we’re in the middle of innumerable tall grey buildings. It’s raining, and Sullied people scurry past on the streets with their faces hidden under hoods or umbrellas. Some buildings are all windows in the front, and have bright signs on top. These are ‘shops’, the Hand of God has told me. Sullied people use their money to get things in them, mostly things that they don’t need. It’s called ‘shopping’. When there’s so many buildings around you that you feel swallowed up in them, that’s called a ‘city’.

The Hand of God pulls to a stop at a red light. Sullied people can’t be trusted to know when to stop and go while driving, so they need lights to tell them. The Hand of God scratches his cheek and his nails make a rasping sound against the stubble there.

 ‘You will likely find the place we visit tonight strange, little Acolyte,’ he says. ‘It’s not something I’ve shown you before.’

 ‘Not the woods?’ I say. He smiles a little.

 ‘Not the woods, no. It’s… well, you could think of it as a kind of outpost.’

‘An outpost,’ I repeat. I haven’t heard the term before.

 ‘In a manner of speaking. You know that we draw new Children from among the Sullied, when they are worthy enough.’ The light turns to green and the car begins to move forward again.

 ‘They give us money,’ I remember.

‘That’s right. But some also complete spiritual tasks for us, depending on their abilities and station. Tasks that are … useful for us. For the Children. Some Sullied people have positions that make them important in their society, for various reasons. We draw those people to us. And some very lucky Sullied people, if they are enough use to us, become truly Unsullied, and join the rest of the Children at Home.’

 ‘Alright,’ I say. I think about the Awakened people I know at Home, which makes me think about Teneil, which makes me think about her arm flopping as the man carried her out of the hall, which makes me think about what I heard last night. I still haven’t told the Hand of God any of it. But he knows what I know. Of course.

Doesn’t he?

 ‘So there are places in the world Outside, places where those Sullied who are working to become Unsullied gather and do good work. Outposts of the Children. We call those places “churches”.’

 ‘Churches,’ I say, tasting the strange word. ‘So today we are visiting churches?’

 ‘A church. And yes, we are. First. Then our work will take us elsewhere.’

 ‘Are we getting rid of a demon tonight?’ I say, feeling a little thrill deep in the pit of my belly. It’s a bit like excitement, but it’s also a bit like feeling ill.

 ‘Oh, yes. We will rid the world of a great evil tonight,’ says the Hand of God. ‘An evil that comes from the heart of the Children itself. And your actions tonight will prepare you for the greatest task of all, little Acolyte.

 ‘I won’t let you down,’ I say.

 The Hand of God touches my shoulder. ‘I know you won’t,’ he says. 

* 

 I stare down at my fingers, twisting together in my lap. I should feel happy. Proud. He’s trusting me with more of our important work. But I don’t feel right. I can’t stop thinking about how I haven’t told him everything, and how that shouldn’t matter – how he should know it, anyway. The Elders and the Hand of God can read minds. It’s what we were always taught. They can tell when you’re lying. The Hand of God knew I was lying that time in the Atonement Room, when I told him that Amy hadn’t said anything important to me before she left. Of course he did. Because he knows everything I know.

The only possibility is that he knows I was listening that night – the fact that he came into my room and tucked me into bed suggests he knew I’d been up, anyway – and doesn’t feel the need to talk about it. And it must be the same with what I saw in the Worship Hall last night. He’d bring it up if he wanted to know more.

That’s it. That’s got to be it.

Why, says a little voice in my head that sounds a lot like Catherine, would he ever need you to open your mouth, if it was really true he could read minds? Why would he ever ask you to speak? He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t need you to ever talk, or answer his questions.

I think shut up as hard as I can, but the voice keeps going, relentless.

He’d know you were thinking this, it says. He’d know that you were doubting him, right now.

I look over at the Hand of God, panicked. But he’s just looking ahead and navigating the car through more grey city streets. He doesn’t look like he’s noticed anything at all.

It’s not true, the voice says. And if that’s not true …

What else isn’t true? 

Home by Cailean Steed is published by Raven Books, priced £14.99.