“I’m going for a walk,” she said.
She felt Sage’s eyes on her.
“Stay there and keep an eye on the doors,” she said.
Eric would be irritated that she left without telling him and wandered around the town alone, but Adria was beyond caring, and she wasn’t made of glass.
Besides, after hiding this little escapade from her, Eric deserved to worry a little.
In the past few days, she had met her mother, learned ‘X’s’ identity, helped plot a plan to kill Bryson’s father, and juggled her new relationship with the three hot heads behind her in the diner.
She needed room to breathe.
The green door of the church was familiar, and Adria found herself walking with ease in that direction.
Inside was quiet. No soft music of a starting service today. Instead, she found the building empty, with the faint smell of incense and candles. For some reason, the space was comforting.
The walls were painted in vibrant colors, surrounding ornate windows that she suspected were original to the building.
Adria walked along the wall, following the depiction of Christ’s crucifixion. Bryson had said the church was catholic, and if that were true, Catholics were particularly dark when depicting their lord and savior.
Framing the oil-based paintings were family crests. Most likely families that had originally founded the church.
Adria enjoyed the uniqueness of every symbol, finding it reminded her of the Nine’s cavern. It seemed that marking your family’s territory wasn’t exclusive to the Nine.
Paisley curls wrapped around an ornate R, and another had a depiction of an old tree, almost Celtic.
And then Adria froze mid step. Tilting her head to the side, she studied an ink drawing of three mountaintops, the ice caps dripping from the peaks. The bold lettering below said “Serra.”
Her hand reached out, hovering over the symbol, following the ridges. It looked so familiar.
“Can I help you?”
Adria turned to see the priest standing near the dais.
Adria’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“It’s okay, we’re open. Please.” He gestured for her to continue her musing.
Adria looked back at the wall.
“How long have you worked here?” she asked.
When she looked back, she saw that the priest had approached her.
“Fifteen years,” he said, looking at the mountain painting with her.
“Do you know this symbol?” Adria asked, her stomach growing cold. It felt dangerous to talk about.
“These are the founding families. The church itself is over a thousand years old. It’s gone through several renovations, but the artwork is original.”
Adria looked at the other symbols, but none gave her the same sinking sensation as the one before her.
“Do you have information about them?” she asked, turning to him. “Records.”
His mouth pressed into a line, clearly wondering why she needed to know.
“Please,” she said. “I think it’s important.”
