12
DRAYNOR
The back porch is wide enough to walk a horse across the planks, but the angle of the afternoon sun lights up every white-washed inch. The plantation house is on the outskirts of the city, well beyond the bright lights and bluesy music. Here, the only music is that of the crickets.
Dawn sits at the far side of the bistro table, Markula and Silas on either side of her. Kain is still inside the house we’ve rented. He doesn’t seem to be feeling his best. It might be the stress of the situation, the idea that a group might be after us because of a prophecy in an old book — that they want to kill our inamorata. That Dawn’s mother might have been the first victim of their murderous fervor.
But oddly, Dawn does not appear stressed. Her face is pink and healthier looking than it has
