The Secrets of Lore Seymour

103. Plans in the Works

Cyan POV

We travel through the shadows of the streets, glancing down alleys and across roadways for any who may recognize us. A poster catches my attention, a crudely drawn rendition of me with crooked eyes. I rip the paper from the wall, glaring at it and the rendition of Draven that is far more flattering. Though no drawing could ever do him true justice.

"These sickening hemorrhoids. Take a look at this," I say, offering Draven the poster. He raises a curious brow barely discernible beneath his dark hood. "They made me look a fool. I bet I don't even need this hat. No one would recognize me from this. Whoever drew this should be fired."

Draven holds the poster up, admiring the both of us. I try not to flush under the attention, but I've been failing at that ever since we made our relationship official. And here I thought that'd lessen my heart skips, alas they've been made worse. If I must seek medical attention, Draven will be charged for it.

"I certainly see the resemblance," he says, smirking at my glare. He crumbles the paper and mumbles under his breath, "Though it's almost cruel to expect anyone to capture your true beauty."

My throat runs dry at his stupidly suave words that work more than I'd care to admit.

Draven offers me a swift glance then clears his throat, "Come along, they'll be starting soon."

"Right." I follow Draven, smiling when he ghosts his fingers over my palm. He never takes hold of my hand, just offers a soft touch that tells me he wants to. Slipping my fingers between his, our hands clasp and we continue our journey to the townsquare where Ristain informed us a few deserters of the Holy Church, like Seren and myself, will speak.

Almost a month has passed since we fled Seymour Manor. The children have been adjusting in their own ways. Arline keeps an even more watchful eye on them. Lore is actually grateful that the Holy Church searches so heavily for him and Seren. It gives them an excuse to lay low, to stay with the children and tend to them while Draven and I, along with others of the Red Moon, keep track of how our plan is fairing. While our posters have been cast about the cities, they pale in comparison to Lore, Seren, and even Olere. I'm surprised the Holy Church hasn't created a spell to show images of the most wanted criminals of the kingdom in the sky. Honestly, I'm a little insulted not to be higher on their watchlist. I'll have to cause more trouble so I can take the number one spot.

"What are you smirking at?" Draven inquires skeptically.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Stop thinking it. You're making me nervous."

That makes me laugh. Draven shows a soft smile that disappears as quickly as it arrived. We made it to the townsquare where a crowd of civilians had formed. They surround a makeshift platform. Four church survivors stand atop the platform. Draven and I gaze about the crowd, spotting six other members of the Red Moon. We're here to ensure nothing happens to those brave enough to speak out.

The survivors are already speaking, telling stories similar to my own. They lost their family to vampires or showed promise in the magical arts. The church took them away, beat us, trained us to be murderers. The crowd gasps when two of the survivors reveal the scars littering their backs. I roll my shoulders, recalling the countless times a rod beat against my skin until it bled. Draven rubs his thumb against the back of my hand, easing the tension with a simple gesture.

"What is this rubbish?" A man huffs beside us. "The Holy Church toughens kids up to fight those damned vamps. They wouldn't survive otherwise. They're causing a stir over nothin'!"

"That's no excuse to beat children," a woman argues.

"It ain't beating. It's strength buildin'!" He grabs an apple from the bag he's carrying to launch at the stage. "Get out of here, heretics!"