And a small, yearning part of him wanted to be that man again. Was it possible?
He cleared his throat. “Yes. The book. I might have been hasty when I said that I didn’t recognise the language.”
He saw her face sharpen in excitement. This meant a lot to her. But why? Before he went any further he had to find out the circumstances as to how that book had come into her hands. He knew it was powerful; but until he translated it he had no idea of its actual purpose.
“Why does it mean so much to you, Keeley?” he asked quietly. “Is it a family heirloom?”
She blinked rapidly, surprised by the question. Hesitating, she stared towards the living room.
“It’s to do with him,” she said softly. “My father. It was found in his satchel when he was brought home that awful night. He was found wandering a back road by the sheriff.” She paused. “I’ve only just found out that he had been away in the days prior, as well. He had been investigating something. My mom told me that he would hole himself in his study researching whatever it was.”
Thad stilled. “He was carrying the book? Your mother had never seen it before?”
Keeley shook her head. “She says she had never seen it.” She leaned towards him across the table, her eyes glittering. “I know that book has something to do with what happened to him. Why he is the way he is now. I must find out. I can’t rest until I do.”
Thad’s heart plummeted. He could see the grim determination in her eyes, and in one way, he admired her for it. She wanted to figure out what had happened to her dad to make him the way he was. And she was smart. She suspected that the book had something to do with it, without even knowing what it was. That it was written in the language of the Vilgath.
But equally he wanted to reach across the table and implore her to let it go. That no good could come of it. She was messing with stuff of unimaginable power. But how could he tell her that? She would laugh him out of the room. As soon as he mentioned demons she would think him touched in the head.
He took a deep breath. She wanted to know. And he respected that.
“Let’s have a look at the book again,” he said slowly.
Chapter Six
Thad walked over to the kitchen window of the cabin, staring out at the moon high in the sky. It was an almost perfect creamy half-moon, halfway through its cycle. Another few weeks before he would be transforming into the wolf and roaming these mountains. It was another benefit of living so remotely and alone—he could change without even really thinking about it. In the old days, when he had been living in Covenester, the Wild Keepers would have to leave the city to go on camping trips when the full moon arrived. It wouldn’t have been good for five wolves to be spied roaming the city streets, after all.
He sighed, leaving the kitchen and settling into his favourite seat near the fireplace. He hadn’t bothered with making a fire tonight, and he doubted he would need to anymore for the next few months. Summer was here, and the nights were staying warm. He might even sit out on the porch after he had looked at the book and watch the stars in the night sky. Another benefit to living out in the mountains—so many stars in the sky. Under the smog and city lights of Covenester, he had rarely noticed them.
The book. He stared at it balefully, resting on the coffee table, as if it might suddenly lurch up and attack him. He knew that the sweat he was wiping from his brow wasn’t just from the heat of the day that had lingered in the cabin. It was also because he simply couldn’t face the thought of picking it up once and for all and finding out what was in its pages.
He took a deep breath. He had to. He had promised Keeley, and his word was sacred. She was depending on him. And now that he knew the story behind how the book had come into her possession, he understood. She was trying desperately to find out why her father had come back from his mysterious trip broken beyond repair. And he had to admit to himself that her instincts might just be correct.
He frowned, his hand hovering over it. It was still possible, of course, that Gil Walters had inexplicably been struck down with a stroke that had left him the way he was. There might be no connection between the book and what had happened to him; it might just be co-incidence. Thad smiled to himself, a bit ruefully. When he had been alpha leader of the Wild Keepers he had always told his shifter brothers that there was rarely any such thing. If things happened at the same time, and the demons were involved, it was rarely random. He needed to follow his own advice and trust his instincts, too.
He stared at the book. It didn’t look like much. A plain cover. But he had already flicked through it, and he knew that it contained something powerful. The Vilgath used writing and symbols to invoke something, or tell something, that couldn’t be expressed through speech. Sometimes they carved or painted symbols on walls of places they needed to control, or sometimes it was detailed descriptions of their rituals, where they would invoke their evil to achieve something.
The question was: how had Gil Walters come to have it, and why?
He sighed. He needed to just do it. He had found a reference book in his old tattered suitcase, one that he had forgotten he had with him the day that the fire had happened at the warehouse. It had been spared. It would probably be enough to help him if he ran into difficulty; he would be able to translate and decode most of it with its aid.
He took another deep breath and picked up the book, opening it to its first page. A chill had settled over him despite the heat of the night, but he forced his eyes to stay on the parchment.
***
Thad sighed deeply. He stood up, tossing the book onto the coffee table, and walked outside onto the porch. He had been poring over it for a couple of hours, and his eyes were sore. He needed to take a break.
He leaned against the old wooden porch railing, staring up at the night sky. In the distance he could hear the soft call of an owl and some rustling in the bushes just underneath his bedroom window. It was the same every night here. As soon as it was dark, the creatures would all come out to play.
He shivered despite the warmth of the night. The demons were the same. They liked to slither around in the dark, causing havoc.
He was only a quarter of a way into the book, and it was puzzling. It didn’t seem to be a description of a ritual. Instead, it seemed to him that it was a collection of folk stories. Stories of the Vilgath from the beginning of time, following specific demons and their battles to destroy humanity. Shapeshifters featured in these stories, too. As the enemy that these mythic demons would eventually conquer.
Thad shivered again. If he wasn’t mistaken, this book read like a spiritual text. A sacred text of the demons’ stories that explained the world, and indeed, the universe, according to their twisted ideology. He tilted his head, staring up at the stars. They featured in these stories, too. Several were mentioned by name. Sometimes, the stories said, certain stars would appear to guide the demons on a quest or journey somewhere.
He started to tremble. This book was important. Very important. He had heard rumours of a sacred text of the Vilgath, but he had never quite believed it. He had always thought that if such a thing existed he would have encountered it somewhere. He had been with the Wild Keepers a long time, and alpha leader of the pack for a while, too. So, the talk of a sacred text had been akin in his mind to sighting a unicorn.
He hadn’t wanted to pick up that book. But now that he had, he burned with a fierce desire to finish it. Somehow, it might be the key to everything. He just knew it.
He walked back into the cabin, staring at the old clock on the wall. It was already after eleven at night. But he knew that he simply couldn’t sleep until he had read more, if not all of it.
He sighed, walking into the kitchen. He needed coffee, and lots of it. It was going to be a long night.
***
Thad jolted awake. His eyes opened to sunlight streaming through the living room window. He felt confused for a moment, watching dust swirl and play in the light. What time was it?
He sto
od up, slowly, stretching painfully. The book slid onto the floor. He must have fallen asleep in the chair studying it. He had pushed himself to stay awake, but it must have overtaken him eventually.
His eyes slid to the clock on the wall. Eight o’clock in the morning. More coffee was in order.
He walked into the kitchen to put on a pot. His whole body was stiff and sore from the uncomfortable sleep, and his head swam with fatigue. He vaguely remembered that he had heard birds starting to trill before falling asleep. He had only had a few hours rest at most.
As he waited for the pot to brew, he walked over and picked up the discarded book on the floor, placing it back on the coffee table. His heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest.
He had been correct. The book was a sacred text. But it was even more than that.
He wiped a weary hand over his face. He had promised Keeley that he would keep her abreast of what the book said. He had been doing it for her, after all. But now that he knew the enormity of what it contained, he was unsure.
He pictured her sitting across from him at her kitchen table, her pale blue eyes afire as she told him that she would do anything to find out what had happened to her father. He liked Keeley; the more time he spent with her, the more he realised it. She was passionate, and strong, and single-minded. A smart woman. And he had always been attracted to intelligent women.
She was beautiful as well, of course. He had spent a lot of his visit to her house trying to not be aware of that beauty, but it had been impossible. In another life, when he had been the man that he was, he might have tried to pursue that attraction. He might have been confident that she could be interested as well. But that was so long ago, and he wasn’t the man that he once was anymore. It was as simple as that, really.
He poured himself a coffee, mulling it over in his mind. He had promised her. But she had no idea of the can of worms that had been opened by this book. It would put her in danger. And while Keeley Walters struck him as a woman who was fearless in the pursuit of an investigation, how could he willingly send her into that fray? She was an innocent. At least where the Vilgath were concerned.
He took a sip of his steaming coffee, feeling the caffeine hit his bloodstream. He should tell her that he had found nothing of significance. She would never be able to contradict it—he highly doubted she would find anyone else who could translate that text. He would simply say that it was a collection of folk stories that held no connection as to what had happened to her father, and the whole thing would go away.
He took another sip of coffee, scalding his tongue. Except that it would be a lie. And he would be lying to her.
He frowned, wrestling with the dilemma. He should never have agreed to look at it. He knew that a Vilgath text was not to be taken lightly. Perhaps he had hoped that he could appease his guilt at how roughly he had treated her by looking at it and that the whole thing would then fade away. That the book would have no connection to her father’s malady and she would be happy that she had at least tried to find out. But it hadn’t gone that way.
Thad walked out onto the porch with his coffee. It was another beautiful day. The sun was climbing higher into a perfect blue sky. He felt a stab of sorrow. His retreat from his shattered life was over. He knew it in his bones. He would be leaving this place very soon.
Because even if he decided to lie to Keeley about the book, he knew that he couldn’t let it go now. He would have to pursue it to the bitter end.
He owed it to his fallen brothers. He owed it to the people of Covenester.
And he owed it to himself.
***
Keeley walked into the Magnet, yawning under her breath. Monday mornings always messed with her head. How was it that some people jumped out of bed on a Monday raring with energy to start the week?
“Nice weekend, honey?” asked Ellen, smiling at her wolfishly.
Keeley shrugged. “I didn’t do much. I let Mom have the day off on Saturday and spent Sunday cleaning.”
Ellen raised an eyebrow. “A little birdy told me that an old Chevy truck was parked outside your house for a few hours on Saturday.” She paused. “Have you made friends with the reclusive Thaddeus Morgan?”
Keeley reddened slightly. She should have known. There was nothing that went unnoticed in Coyote River. The town grapevine would be buzzing with the news that Thad had visited her. And of course, they would leap to the conclusion that there was a budding romance in the works. The town had been trying to set her up with every single man in the district since she had turned sixteen.
She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s just helping me translate a book. He used to be a translator, you know.” Hopefully that would be enough to appease Ellen, who had no idea that she was obsessed with the book that her father had in his satchel the night that he had come home changed, all those years ago. Only her mother and Dean were aware of its significance.
“Did he?” Ellen smiled, her eyes misty. “I’ve always wondered what his story is. Such a tragedy what happened to him in the city.” She stared at Keeley pointedly, looking for all the world like a bloodhound sniffing for more information.
Keeley’s smile wavered. “Yeah, he’s a mess, alright. But hopefully he’s on the path to recovery.”
She walked to her desk, hoping to end the conversation. But Ellen wasn’t letting it go that easily. The older woman got up, following her.
“A handsome man,” said Ellen. “Even though he tries to hide it underneath that beard and hair. But I can always tell.” She gazed at Keeley, who had sat down and was turning on her computer. “His eyes are amazing. They almost pierce your soul.”
Keeley’s eyes flickered. “Are they? I’ve never noticed. All that hair is a bit distracting, I find.”
Ellen laughed. “Hair today, gone tomorrow.” Her laugh deepened. “I read that somewhere. Maybe in an ad for a hair laser removal clinic.”
Keeley stared at her. What on earth was Ellen going on about now?
Ellen wiped her eyes. “My point is, hair isn’t permanent, Keeley. I think if Thaddeus Morgan decided to clean himself up a bit, you might be swept away, just a little.”
Keeley sighed. This was painful. “He’s a bit old for me anyway, Ellen, even if he did decide to lose the beard and the hair.”
“Nonsense,” said Ellen briskly. “Under thirty, I’d wager. The beard and the hair make him look older than he is.”
Keeley smiled sourly. “Or perhaps the beard is hiding a hair lip or something,” she said. “A weak jaw. My mother always said that men with beards like that want to hide something.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not interested anyway, Ellen. He’s just helping me with something, like I said.”
Ellen’s eyes were as round as saucers. “All work and no play, Keeley,” she said slowly. “You are a beautiful girl. When are you going to start to date?”
Keeley shrugged. “I’m a journalist,” she said crisply. “I don’t have time for romance. I’ve got a career path, you know.”
Ellen shook her head sadly. “I saw Jake the other day, you know. Coming out of the drugstore. I don’t think he’s happy with Ashley…”
“Really?” Keeley’s eyes hardened. “It’s no concern of mine. Ellen, I have to start work.”
Ellen looked a little shamefaced, drifting back to her desk. Keeley took a deep breath. What was it with people? Why couldn’t they just let things go? It had been years since she had dated Jake briefly, but they all wanted to believe this fiction that she had been dumped and left heartbroken. As if she cared that Jake Stapleton was about to marry Ashley Pike. Good luck to them. They deserved each other.
And they were constantly wanting her to date again, when she had no desire to at the moment. At first it had not been a conscious choice—there simply wasn’t anyone in the small pool of eligible men in Coyote River that she fancied. A lot had tried, and she had rejected them all. And then, it had become important to her that she not distract herself from her career goals. She had seen how men
could do that.
Most girls she had gone to high school with were married by now or engaged. Ready to settle down to a life of boredom in Coyote River. Have their two-point-five children and become obsessed with playgroups and little league. Ashley Pike was a case in point. She had been to college and graduated with a degree in design, but it seemed she had no desire to do anything with it. Her only aim was to snag a guy so that she could wear the big white dress and have the ring slipped onto her finger. And Coyote River men were bred to be traditional. They liked to be the breadwinners and have the wife stay at home.
It was like a time warp from the 1950s in this town, thought Keeley fiercely. And as much as she loved it, and loved the Magnet, she wanted more. Much more. She wanted to live in other places, explore the world. Covenester was her first goal; the city papers there were so vital and alive. But after that the world was the limit. She had always harboured a secret desire to become a foreign correspondent. Perhaps in a war zone somewhere. Now that would be exciting, she thought, grinning to herself.
No, tethering herself to a Coyote River native was not in her plans. Not in the slightest.
Her heart sank as she ran an eye over what she had to do today in her planner. The Davidsons were selling their farm and she had to go there to write a feature real estate piece about the place. Then type up an article about what the local council had agreed to at their latest meeting. It was so dull, she thought, leaning back in her chair. But she knew she had to keep pressing on. No city paper would take her without a few years of experience under her belt, and at least she was getting that.
She stared at the planner, thinking of her father. Had he had dreams to ever move on from the Magnet? Had he been thinking that the book, and what he had been working on at that time, might be his ticket out of here? It hadn’t been a Magnet story, after all. Harry Gibbs had confirmed that.
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