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Chapter 12: Damon

Luke dawdled finishing his last bite, but Abel didn't seem to be in a rush to leave.

"So, why do you work at a bar?" Abel asked, his chin in his hand.

"Uh—" Luke didn't look at him, instead into his mostly-empty cup of water. He wasn't sure how much he should tell him. "It's something for The Faith."

"That's why I'm asking, it doesn't seem like something you guys would be allowed to do."

Luke tensed his hand on his lap, and the adhesive from the bandage tugged at his skin. "It's an assignment from the Herald."

Abel smiled, humor dancing in his eyes. "Oooh, the Herald? He sounds important."

Luke cracked a smile at his tone, though at the back of his mind he felt refreshed talking with someone who knew so little about The Faith; he didn't know the Herald, he didn't know the Doyens, he didn't know Luke's father. "He's the head of the—um—"

Abel's brows jumped up and a wry smile spread on his lips. "Cult?"

"Organization," Luke said, pointedly grimacing at him.