Tegan didn't appreciate the reminder, but she was right. Fuck it. He needed to act now, because the odds were good there wouldn't be a later.
What street is the delivery place on? he asked her, flipping open his cell phone and dialing 411.
Elise gave him the location and Tegan recited it to the computerized prompts on the other end of the line. As the call connected to the FedEx store, he prepared to hit whoever answered with a little mental persuasion, level the playing field while he had the chance. The line picked up on the fifth ring and the voice of a young male who announced himself as Joey offered a disinterested greeting.
Tegan latched on to the vulnerable human mind like a viper, so focused on wringing information out of the man he hardly noticed Elise coming toward him from the kitchen. Without a word, she dropped a weighted plastic grocery bag down in front of him, a rectangular box at the bottom of it clopping on the counter.
Through the yellow smiley face Thank You logo stamped on the bag, Tegan saw an airbill addressed to one Sheldon Raines--the same Minion that Elise had killed the day before.
Holy hell.
She couldn't have-- He released the FedEx clerk's mind at once and cut off the call, genuinely astonished. You went back for this today?
Those pale violet eyes holding his surprised gaze were clear and keen. I thought it might be useful, and in case it was, I didn't want to risk letting the Rogues have it.
God. Damn.
Although she didn't say it, Tegan could tell that Elise's Darkhaven-bred propriety was the only thing keeping her from reminding him how not a few hours before he'd assured her there was nothing she could do to help the Order in this war. And whether it was stubborn defiance or courageous savvy that sent her out today, he had to admit--at least to himself--that the female was nothing if not surprising.
He was glad for the interception, whatever it might prove to yield, but if the Rogues-- particularly their leader, Marek--were expecting the package, then it must be of some value to them. The question remained, why?
Tegan pulled the box out and sliced open the tape seals with one of the daggers at his hip. The return address appeared to be one of those shared-office corporate types. Probably bogus at that. Gideon could verify that fact, but Tegan was betting that Marek wouldn't be so careless as to leave a legitimate paper trail.
He tipped the box and the contents--a thin, leather-bound book sealed in bubble wrap--slid into his hand. Peeling the cushioned plastic away from the antique, he scowled, perplexed. It was just an unremarkable, half-empty book. A diary of some sort. Handwritten passages scrawled in what appeared to be a mixture of German and Latin covered a few of the pages; the rest were blank except for crude symbols doodled here and there into the margins.
How did you manage to get this, Elise? Did you have to sign for it, or leave your name, anything?
No. The clerk on duty wanted identification, but I don't have any. There was never a need for anything like that when I was living in the Darkhaven.
Tegan fanned the yellowed pages of the book, seeing more than one reference to a family called Odolf. The name wasn't familiar, but he was willing to bet it was Breed. And most of the entries were just repetitions of some kind of poem or verse. What would Marek want with an obscure chronicle like this one? There had to be a reason.
Did you give the delivery station any information that might identify you at all? he asked Elise.
No. I, um...I traded for it. The clerk agreed to give the box to me in exchange for Camden's iPod.
Tegan glanced up at her, realizing just now that she'd made the trip back to her apartment without the aid of music to block her talent. No wonder she had seemed out of it when she came in. But not anymore. If she felt any lingering discomfort, she didn't let it show. Elise leaned forward to inspect the book, focused wholly on the task at hand with the same interest as him, her mind totally engaged.
Do you think the book might be important? she asked him, her eyes scanning the page that lay open on the counter. What could it mean to the Rogues?
I don't know. But it sure as hell means something to the one leading them.
He's not a stranger to you, is he. Tegan thought about denying it, but allowed a vague shake of his head. No, he isn't a stranger. I know him. His name is Marek. He's Lucan's elder brother.
A warrior?
At one time he was. Lucan and I both rode into many battles with Marek at our side. We trusted him with our lives and would have given our own for him.
And now?
Now Marek has proven himself to be a traitor and a murderer. He's our enemy--not only the Order's, but all of the Breed's as well. They just don't know it yet. With any luck, we'll take him out before he has a chance to make whatever move it is he's been planning.
What if the Order fails?
Tegan turned a hard stare on her. Pray we don't.
In the answering silence, he flipped through more of the journal pages. Marek wanted the book for some reason, so there had to be a clue of some sort secreted in the damn thing somewhere.
Wait a second. Go back, Elise said suddenly. Is that a glyph?
Tegan had noticed it at the same time. He turned to the small symbol scribbled onto one of the pages near the back of the slim volume. The pattern of interlocking geometric arches and flourishes might have appeared merely decorative to an untrained eye, but Elise was right. They were dermaglyphic symbols.
Shit, Tegan muttered, staring at what he knew to be the mark of a very old Breed line. It didn't belong to anyone called Odolf, but to those of another Breed name. One that had lived--and died out completely--a long time ago. So what reason could Marek have for digging up the ancient past?
Screams carried into the drawing room of an opulent Berkshires estate, the howls of anguish emanating down from a windowed attic room on the third floor of the manor house. The chamber boasted a wraparound wall of windows with unobstructed views of the wooded valley below.