Page 16 of Loreblood

“I like her,” the man said. A smile formed behind his beard, filled with holes where teeth should’ve been. “Good work finding a new one, Baylo. Extra ration for you tonight.”

My heart slammed against my ribs in warning.A new one?I wondered what the fuck this gross, fat man was talking about.

“Seph,” Baylen said, stepping closer again and taking my hand. “I’d like to introduce you to the leader of the Diplomats, Dimmon Plank.”

I was wordless for a moment, until Dimmon said, “What is she, mute? Guess that won’t matter if she is.”

“P-Pleased to meet your acquaintance, sir,” I eked out with a small nod of my chin.

I was anythingbutpleased to make his acquaintance.

In fact, I was already plotting how to get as far away from Dimmon Plank as possible.

Chapter 5

My heart hurt to see how swiftly and how far Baylen had fallen in just a few short years. Without any direction from the House of the Broken—even as deficient as their direction could be—he had quickly found his place with a rotten lot.

To be associating himself with these degeneratevagabondswas . . . awful. I couldn’t fathom him allying with the boy who had beaten him silly over a few copper coins, and whose friends nearly kicked him to death.

Never one to hold my tongue, I told Bay as much during my first night with the Diplomats.

“Like I said, Seph, things are different now,” he explained, bowing his head to avoid my judgmental gaze.

We sat hunched around a trash fire, alone, eating a meal of hardtack. Other members of the gang were nearby at different fire pits.

I frowned at the food in my hands. “A far cry from eating fruit on the rooftops over the bazaar, watching the sunset,” I pointed out, forcing down the stale food. I wanted him to remember the memory we shared from our youth, hoping I could bring him back to me.

Baylen simply scoffed, biting off a piece of his tack. “A dream that was only a mask to cover up the lies of the House.” He spoke angrily, glancing over at me with dangerous, narrowed eyes. The firelight flickered in his orbs. “Do you ever think you were trulyfreewith the Truehearts? With Father Cullard and Mother Eola and the tyrannical vowagers?”

My head reeled. “Free?” I’d never known freedom in my life. How was I supposed to know what that felt like? “Well, no. I don’t believeanyonein Nuhav is free, so long as we live under the shadow of Olha—”

“I am,” he cut in, lifting his chin defiantly. He scooted over, remaining crouched like a goblin with his knees bent. Sitting would soil his pants with street mud. “The Diplomats gave me a life when I was nothing more than a gutter-filth sewerboy.” A wicked smile curled his lips. “Jeffrith beating me up years back counted as my hazing, so I didn’t have to go through that again.”

Creases formed in my brow. “Hazing? What are you even talking about, Bay? This isn’t the boy I grew—”

“No, I’mnotthe boy you grew up with, Seph. I’m not a boy, to start.”

I wanted to shake him, to yell in his face that he was fuckingthirteen! His cracking voice was all the evidence anyone needed to know he was not a man.

“Dimmon and the Diplomats have taught me a way of life and self-sufficiency the House never did. Cullard and Eola would’ve kept me enslaved to the True my entire life.” He nudged his chin. “Maybe if you wereluckyenough, you could’ve become a mute vowager. Breastfeeding the crying whelps, repeating the cycle.”

His words dripped with sarcasm. There was a new, crazed light in his eyes that didn’t used to be there. He believed everything he was saying.

My shoulders sagged as I sighed and stared into the crackling flames. A boy walked by and tossed a mixture of peat and shit into the pit, sparking embers that floated into the sky, before he leered at me and wandered off.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to leave this place and these people?” I asked in a low voice.

His body stiffened, nostrils flaring. “Look at you on your high horse. I knew you were arrogant, always thinking you’re thesmartest around, but I never thought you’d become sosuperior. Just like the other Neathers!” He swept a hand out at the wider city.

His outburst surprised me, making me fall silent as he continued to rampage.

“These peopleare my brothers and sisters!” He yelled, earning a few eyes in our direction from other fire pits. “Much more than any Brothers and Sisters from the House of the Broken ever were. You’re no better than me, you’re just the same. A girl tossed on her ass when the heat got too hot at the House. When you learned thetruthof that diabolical place.”

I blinked at him. I was almost certain Baylen didn’t even know the “truth” I’d learned regarding Father Cullard’s sinful ways. He was simply spouting off. Clearly, Baylen Sallow had thought about his past and come to some conclusions that were filled with deep resentment and anger. More likely, Dimmon Plank had filled his head with wicked words, molding Baylen to believe everyoneoutsidethe Diplomats was the enemy.

I couldn’t blame him for the resentment or anger. I felt it, too. Yet my anger wasn’t directed at everyone . . . yet. It was directed at specific people. I didn’t see every other Neather—slang for people living “Beneath” in Nuhav, as opposed to the vampire Buvers living “Above” in Olhav—as enemies.

“There are wicked people everywhere, my friend,” I said with another sigh. “I’m just worried you’ve let the worst of them get closest to you.”