most benefit from their expertise, whatever it may be—but what they offer others, they also offer to each other. Like I said, we’re family. That’s what family does.”
“You think everyone here truly believes in God and Warren’s New Theory, or do you think there’s a chance they’re just in it for the perks?” I ask. She stares at me and I shrug. “I could pretend to be a believer for a lot of what you’re offering.”
“But everything we offer is to facilitate God’s work,” Casey says. “And answering that call isn’t easy. Becoming a member means exercising total selflessness and giving up everything to give your life to God through acts of service to others. To exemplify the way the world can—and will be—if we all make the same choice. It’s not a free ride. It never has been.” She pauses. “Speaking of family, Emmy’s here.”
“Speaking of family, how come nobody knows Lev Warren has a kid?”
Casey pauses, as though she wasn’t quite anticipating that going on the record. “Lev is no stranger to threats on his life. People want to hurt him. And sometimes the easiest way to hurt someone is to hurt what they love the most. We all agreed that Emmy be invisible to the public eye until she was old enough to make that choice herself. We’ll have to talk about how you approach this in your profile…”
“Does The Unity Project have a lot of enemies?” I ask.
“We’ve made a lot of people unhappy with us over the years. Right-wingers think we’re plotting some kind of socialist takeover. Liberals consider us too close to God … the Catholic Church might be one of our most vocal opponents—”
“Really.”
She nods and then digs through some papers on her desk, tossing a few Bible Tracts, some church bulletins and flyers my way. They all seem to be renouncing false prophets. I recognize one of them; that blue-sky Bible Tract I found in Jeremy’s wallet.
That same verse on the front.
But the Lord is faithful, He will lend you strength and guard you from the evil one.—2 Thessalonians 3:3.
“Subtle, isn’t it?” Casey asks. “Most churches don’t really love Lev’s anti-church rhetoric, as I’m sure you can imagine. They flood us with their propaganda, trying to convert members back … we get them at the house, at the farm, at all of the centers…”
Her phone chimes. She glances at it.
“He’s ready to see you now.”
She didn’t tell me I’d be interviewing Lev in a cabin on the other side of the property.
She gives me directions—down the path through the pine trees to the lake, head right, keep to the outside of the woods edging the shore; eventually the cabin will reveal itself—and says it should only be a fifteen-minute walk, but it’s a trek I didn’t quite plan for. She lets me out the back door, eyeing my boots as I trek into the trees. Snow has accumulated in spite of their cover and I end up ankle-deep in it, trying to ignore the way it seeps into my socks. My toes are numb by the time I clear the path but I have to admit, the view almost makes it worth it; the lake stretched out endlessly before me, the water half-sheeted by ice, beautiful in its stillness and the way it reflects the sun. I admire it until an uneasy feeling settles over me. I glance behind me. The path is in shadow from this side of it.
There’s nothing there.
I head right, keeping to the outside of the woods like Casey told me to, unnerved by the quiet. Smoke drifts lazily into the sky, and I know I’m getting close. Finally, a small log cabin with a forest-green roof and a forest-green door reveals itself. I’m halfway to it when a rustling sounds behind me. I stop and turn, and there’s still nothing there—at least nothing I can see.
When I turn back to the cabin, the door is open.
* * *
It’s small inside, an intimate space with a kitchenette, a table for two, a desk by the window, and a couch in front of the fire. A door leads to what I assume is the bathroom. There’s a bed in the far corner, blankets rumpled, unmade.
Lev leans against the sink counter, watching me. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and black jeans, a pair of thick worker’s socks. I bring my bag to the table and empty its contents there, setting the recorder up, placing my phone beside it. When I’m