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“They’re called The Seekers, right?” I nodded. “Canadian guy shows up, takes over a castle, calls himself ‘ Beloved Father,’ and what? People just flocked to sign up?”
“I assume it started slow. That he built up gradually.”
August frowned. “Why? Why would people give up everything to follow him? I wouldn’t. I’d tell him where he could stick his ‘Beloved Father’ moniker. I had a father, and he let me down. The last thing on earth I’d want is another.”
“I don’t think they actually believe he’s literally their father,” I mused. “Besides, you’re looking at it from the wrong side.”
August paused mid-chew. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not the person he recruits. You’re the recruiter.”
He snorted. “I’ve done many shady things in my time, but I can promise you I’ve never started a cult.”
“But could you if you wanted?” I challenged. “Isn’t a con about finding what makes people tick and selling that dream to them? That’s what you did with me—and I’m not gullible. Or at least I didn’t think I was until I met you. Couldn’t you sell it?”
His jaw tightened, the admission in his silence. “So what dream does he sell? Come and live in my castle. It’s got plenty of rooms and a sea view?”
“I don’t know. But it had to be good enough for Serena to leave home.”
August considered my point while he continued eating. “So he just leaves his castle to take a tour around the country to recruit more members?”
I laughed. “I highly doubt it. I imagine he’s like all the officers I had in the army.”
“Explain. I’m not military-minded.”
“They give orders, stand back, and let others do the work. Do you think there were any officers around the day I got bitten?”
“I’m guessing not.”
“And you’d be right. They were safely tucked away somewhere drinking tea.” A note of bitterness had crept into my voice, and I did nothing to eradicate it. “Must have been a terrible shame for Captain Marsh when he had to get off his arse to hand me my dismissal papers.”
August grimaced. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. No notice period. No suggestions for what I might do with my life when the army was all I’d ever known for the last decade. Just pack up and leave. I’d seen it happen to others, but you always think you’re different. I busted my balls for that unit for years, and one mistake, one bite, and I was gone.”
I rubbed the scar, discussing it making it throb. “Anyway. My point is, ‘Beloved Father’ will have other people to do his dirty work while he stays safe in his castle.” A smile slipped onto my face while I considered taking him apart piece by slow piece. “Or at least he thinks he’s safe. Until I get my hands on him.”
August finished eating and wiped his hands on his trousers. “You’re probably right. I’m surprised I haven’t crossed paths with any of his recruiters.”
“I told you. You’re a recruiter, not a recruit. They’d have taken one look at you and steered clear.”
August crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “I’m trying really hard to take that as a compliment.”
“It is.” I smiled. “You know I like you, faults and all.”
His mouth quirked. “I like you despite yours, too.”
Chapter Twenty-three
August
It had taken us six days to reach Dover, two of those spent sheltering from a red rainstorm in an abandoned clothing factory long since stripped of anything useful. Three biters had to be evicted first. Keaton took two down with a clean crossbow shot between the eyes while I almost cleaved the third’s head from its shoulders.
Even knowing the factory stopover was solely for his sake, Keaton’s frustration grew with every hour we stayed. With nothing else to do, we fell back on sex to pass the time—which wasn’t exactly a hardship. At least exhausting him kept him from bouncing off the walls, even if it couldn’t stop that faraway look from creeping back into his eyes.
I didn’t push him on anything, sticking to our agreement of ‘after,’ and in return there were no more awkward silences or arguments. I reminded him more than once that William Anderson wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d still be in Dover when we reached it.
And now we had, arriving in Dover just as day set about the serious business of turning into night. I stashed my bike in a brick outbuilding half a mile out, figuring there were more incognito ways of arriving in a place that might have scouts than with the roar of an engine.
