Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I sighed. This was why I had been hesitant about taking this job on. Not having answers frustrated me. It had been an issue all throughout my schooling. I’d miss one test question and immediately bungle all the rest because of how frustrated I got with myself. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose.
An idea slowly started to form. “Maybe we’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
“What do you mean?” Cassius closed the tome.
“We’re trying to learn more about the dagger, but I think we need to start learning about who has the dagger first.”
It was time to go down a new route.
I clicked out of the scientific journal and opened a new page. “That red-eyed shifter at the Kind Gala wore the same patch that was on the shifters who attacked Blake in the desert. Those two were linked. That patch has to symbolize something.”
I didn’t have any photos of the symbol, so all I could do was type in a description. Cassius brought his chair over to my side, the legs scraping against the warm stone. I hit Search and was immediately rewarded with images of the symbol. He leaned in and cocked his head. “Hmm.”
“What? You recognize it?”
Cassius paused for a moment before he shook his head. “I thought I might have. Might have recognized that shifter, but his face… it was so twisted between wolf and human. I’m not sure, though. It’s like right there at the back of my mind. I can’t pinpoint it, though.”
The fresh Malibu breeze rustled the palm tree above us. I heard the clinking of ice against glass before I turned around. Blake walked toward us, a condensation-covered pitcher in his hand. “Thought you guys might be thirsty.”
I smiled up at him. I was. He filled up the two empty glasses.
“Thank you,” I said. He spent all morning with Warrick and Dawn while I spent it training my archery skills. I’d barely seen him all day. It wasn’t until he was pulling up a chair and asking to join that I realized how I had missed seeing him this morning.
“What are you guys up to?”
“I figured searching for the symbol might lead us somewhere.” I scrolled through the images. They were all mostly hand drawn, but some photos did come back with people proudly brandishing the symbol on their clothes. I opened the first link, which took me to a video. I hit Play and watched as someone recorded themselves stitching it onto their jacket. The woman had thinning hair and sat outside in an overflowing junkyard.
“I’ve found my people. I’ve found my purpose,” the woman would repeat in an off-putting rhythm, like she was chanting it. And then her voice would rise as she’d shout, “Time shall not control us. Time shall not bend us. We shall bend it.”
“That’s fucking weird,” Blake said.
“She mentioned ‘people.’ Think there’s a group?” Cassius asked.
“Good question. I’ve got no idea.” I went back to the search listings and scrolled down to the bottom. An article caught my attention. It was from a news channel covering a collection of different local groups. It was for the Sunday morning news, so the piece was mostly fluff, interviewing a baking club made of vampires who used blood in their bakes to a group of fae and shifters that got together to do yoga with goats.
One group was organizing to “reminisce and reflect on the power of time,” which immediately caught my attention. There were photos of various kinds of people gathered around picnic tables at the park, talking together and eating BBQ. Many had the symbols visibly worn on their clothes; some had it tattooed on their arms and legs.
I scrolled to another picture and froze. It was the same group, but they gathered around one individual. He had his arms out and his chest puffed. There was an air of control oozing from him, even through the screen.
But what really made me freeze was the man’s eyes. Blood-red. Focused. Hungry. Powerful. Face still twisted between wolf and man.
“Look, it’s the same shifter that attacked me at the Kind Gala.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Blake placed a hand over his mouth.
“Does it say who he is?” Cassius asked.
“Nothing. This is the only photo that even shows him.”
Blake leaned forward and scanned the page. “It doesn’t mention any names at all.”
I got an idea, scrolling up to the top of the article. “What about the journalist? Maybe we can contact them and see if they have any information. Maybe they signed release forms.”
“Genius,” Blake said, rubbing my back. His touch and praise was a reward I didn’t know I was seeking. But damn did it feel good to get it. I jotted down the name of the journalist and took screenshots of the web page and the symbol. That’s when a text buzzed into my phone.