Dark Siren (39 page)

Max looked Orrin from head to toe before nodding reluctantly. “Alright. He’s cool.”

“Do you know where Rozzy went?”

“Nah.”

“Have you talked to her today?”

“Nah. I called to get her to bring home some toaster tarts. But she didn’t answer.”

She took a quick look at Orrin. “I can’t leave you here by yourself, so you’re coming with me, kid.”

“What?” Both Max and Orrin said in unison.

Seeing no need to argue with Max, Kali addressed Orrin. “You said it yourself, it’s not safe here. We can’t leave him.” Orrin didn’t disagree, so she turned back to Max. “Grab your bag and go get in the truck parked outside.”

“Aw baby, come on,” Max whined.

“Do it, Max.”

“Shorty, we gotta work on our relationship. I’m not feeling the love,” he said, but sauntered off to gather his stuff.

Kali retrieved her purse from upstairs and put a handful of birdseed out for Pat and Stew. When she returned, Max was waiting by the front door. Orrin held it open. “What was so important in this purse that could not wait?”

She blinked and flashed him an innocent smile. “My library card.”

Orrin’s gaze was steady. Kali froze, afraid for a moment that he might say no. But then he gave a slight nod. “I insist that I drive.”

Chapter 55

The county library was Kali’s only option for research. Holsenbeck Hall didn’t have a computer. And her home with its internet access was off limits. Between the world wide net and thousands of books, if she couldn’t find answers there, then answers weren’t meant to be found.

Kali was relieved when Orrin wandered off to a nearby couch and settled in with a magazine. She squinted to see the title,
The Real
Hunter
, and laughed. When the guy wasn’t talking, he actually blended in.

Where to start?

The internet was the obvious choice. Practically anything could be found or done online. From scratch soups to homemade bombs, it was all within reach of a few keystrokes. And the generous morsels volunteered by York would be her ingredients to start with.

She typed in Reaper and found instant success. Unfortunately, it was the wrong kind. The listed sites consisted of heavy metal bands, cartoons and Halloween stuff. Kali tapped her pencil against the keyboard and thought for a minute. Then she searched “shapeshifter.” Lots of hits came back. There was information discussing the history of the term, its origins in mythology and folklore, as well as modern day sci-fi and fantasy uses. Her eyes trailed down to a subheading entitled “lycanthropy.” The term was used specifically for men who turned into wolves——also known as werewolves. What Kali read wasn’t promising. Werewolves were uni-browed monsters, or witches that took the forms of wolves, or humans cursed by shamans, or demons sent by the devil. They killed for sport, raped women, and stole babies.

Well, clearly Warren is nothing like that.

She pored over page after page, reading up on painful transformations under moonlight, silver bullets, curses, and a few cross references to vampires. Kali rolled her eyes.
I’m so not going there.
She exhaled. “New approach needed here.” She tried to remember the term Tsai had used. He’d said they wouldn’t be safe…because of…the Neuri.

Jackpot
. There were only two exact matches, but the sites were less mired in fiction. Neuri were of Scythian or Slavic descent, from countries now known as Poland and Ukraine. There was brief reference to a tribe of Warekin. One entry in particular made goose bumps prick across her flesh. Because of a curse, once a year, men belonging to Neuran tribes turned into wolfish monsters. They became fierce predators, man-eaters of moonlight that terrorized villagers and stole people from their homes. York had said Reapers were once men, but had been forced to live as monsters because of punishment. Tsai had called the same creatures neuri.

Everything came back to werewolves.
But why would they want to kill me?

She pushed away from the computer as her mind raced. Warren had definitely turned into really big wolf. Was he cursed? He had taken orders from Rhane just like the others. If the horror movies she had seen carried any weight at all, Kali was certain a werewolf wouldn’t take orders from a human. If Warren was a werewolf, then Rhane had to be a werewolf too, and York had lied to her face. She shook away the thought.
This is completely ridiculous
.
No wonder York laughed at me. Werewolves don’t exist.

“You’re a freak, shorty. I like it.” Max leaned over her shoulder, and Kali nearly jumped out of her skin.

“What are you doing here, creeper?”

The boy touched a finger to his chin as if in deep thought. The guyliner he wore was very distracting. Max snapped his fingers. “You and Commando Oreo kidnapped me.”

“His name is Orrin. And I meant what are you doing up here, following me around, breathing in my ear?”

“You were taking a long time. I thought you might need help.”

“Do you even know what people do in libraries?”

He winked suggestively. “In the public section or the private section?”

“Go away, Max.”

“No wait, seriously. I can help.”

Kali stared at the screen and ignored him.

But like any good adolescent, he was undeterred. “If you really want to find something, I suggest you do it the old fashioned way.” Max then did something surprising. He spoke like an intelligent human being. “They got tons of old books upstairs, good for history and stuff. Most people don’t bother with ‘em. They sit up there catching dust because the net is supposed to be so much faster.” He shrugged. “Our civilization is bass-ackwards. Any Joe Blow can post whatever he wants on a web page, but to publish it in a book that makes it up those stairs, there’s gotta be some truth to it. Come on.” He took off.

After a moment of hesitation, Kali followed. It turned out that Max knew what he was talking about. He led her to a section of the library she had never been to: The Archives. From floor to ceiling, rows of dusty books filled with knowledge sat waiting to be rediscovered.

“Wow. Max, I am officially impressed.”

Blushing bright red, he looked at the floor and cleared his throat. “So, are we still looking for werewolf stuff?”

“No. I’ve read enough about them. Help me with something I didn’t really see online. I need to learn about the Warekin.”

“Can you spell that?”

She did.

Max rubbed his hands together. “Be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later, lugging a huge volume with worn a leather binding and tattered pages. He took a seat on the floor, folding his legs and feet. When Kali did the same, Max carefully placed the book between them.

“This was the only one with anything on those guys.” Max opened the book. “Only problem is…” He turned the page so she could see. “It’s not in English.”

She lifted the heavy volume from his lap. “That’s okay. Maybe there’s something we can look at.”

“You mean like maps or pictures?”

“Yeah.”

The pages were so fragile with age; it took time to gently turn each one. But Kali had guessed right. There were lots of pictures. Most were portraits of fearsome men. Beneath the photos were dates and additional script that perhaps detailed various exploits in each man’s history.

Max pointed. “That guy could be Genghis Khan…”

She nodded and kept flipping pages. The maps had shaded areas or colored lines connecting various points in a geographic region. There were drawings of battles, weapons, decapitations, raids, hangings, villages on fire, etc. “I think this is a catalogue of historical conquerors.” She pointed at a drawing. “Napoleon is recognizable anywhere.”

“We passed the dude that nuked the Aztecs too.”

“Max, there was no nuking in the 1500s.”

“This is cool! Keep going.” Max reached over and turned the page. As Kali’s eyes fell to the next image, all the breath in her lungs expelled in a defined whoosh.

The picture was the reproduction of a crude painting. A warrior in black armor sat atop a large mount of the same color. It was the same as in her dreams. Only this time, the rider was helmetless. She saw him clearly, walking toward her in the snow, his dark hair flying wild and shapeless in the wind. The horseman’s eyes glowed in the unusual manner of chrysoprase, leaping out from the weathered canvas page. Those eyes were unmistakable. And Kali had seen them only on one person in her lifetime.

There was a date beneath the picture: 1326 A.D-?

She found her voice. “I need to know what this says.”

Max’s eyes were wide and uncertain. Kali couldn’t blame the kid. She probably looked pretty freaked out. She certainly felt pretty freaked out.

“S-sorry. This is the reference section. You can’t check these jewels out.”

“Max, please. I need your help.”

“You just said the word.”

Five minutes later, Max was downstairs with the huge book shoved under a jacket Orrin had retrieved from the truck. The bulge looked highly suspicious, and they were counting on that. One of the librarians, a pale and skinny college kid in need of a haircut, spotted Max and narrowed his eyes. He stood up from a desk so small it was laughable. “Hey, kid,” he said a bit too loudly.

Max smirked. It was like a scene in high school where the science nerd faced down the rebellious skater that had burned his homework in the boy’s bathroom and thrown the ashes in the toilet. But the librarian wasn’t in high school anymore. The little punk couldn’t tie the nerd to a toilet and steal from him anymore. “Hey, kid!” he yelled. A few people turned, scowling. “Sorry.” The too skinny librarian blushed and started walking toward Max who was quickly closing in on the front door.

Just before the security strip in the back of the book set off the alarm, Kali stopped scanning titles and whispered in Orrin’s ear. “Now,” she said. He leaned against the nearest bookcase and toppled it with little effort. Like dominoes, the shelves fell one after the other. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of books went sailing in all directions, landing in a cacophony of crashes. The college guy squawked. Cries of alarm went up as employees and volunteers ran to the small crisis. Suppressing a fit of devilish giggles, Max skittered out the door.

Chapter 56

Using information gathered from Mack Ventures, Rion had found an address for another buyer with interest in The Siren’s Heart and given the details to Rhane. According to city records, the property was purchased within the last three months. The sale had followed customary standards, involving a realtor and a bank. Everything about the single family home seemed perfectly normal. Its white siding, colorful flower bed, and the whitewashed fence that surrounded its impeccably manicured lawn all shouted ordinary. The problem was that the house was deeded to a person involved in selling Kalista to Reapers, and it was located only sixty miles from the town where she lived.

Rhane approached cautiously.

It was too quiet. Nothing moved in the house or in the woods behind it. Stepping through the unlocked front door, he instantly knew River was there. All of his heightened senses came to full alert. Room by room, he cleared the house and exited through a door into the backyard.

Crossing fifty yards of lawn, he headed for the woods. The white fence stopped at the tree line. Swinging his long legs over it, Rhane hit the ground and crouched low. He closed his eyes, found the faint whirl as it whipped through the air, and instinctively rolled. The blast of splintering wood exploded into his ears. As he ducked behind the trunk of a large pine, he heard the sound of footsteps retreating into the woods and rose to pursue.

The trail went cold at the edge of a clearing. A canopy of trees blocked the sunlight with their branches, forming an impenetrable barrier. Despite the lack of light, Rhane saw the metallic glint of something hidden in the lush green carpet. The object was nearly centered in the clearing. Rhane was drawn to it, unable to resist the lure of its shine. He ignored the stillness that suddenly fell as his hand closed around the leather wrapped hilt. His fingertips found the ridged inlay of detail a silversmith had intricately carved in the blade a lifetime ago. Bellefuron. The metal sighed, emitting a satisfied hum as if recognizing its true owner. On top of that melodious sound, the dull roar came of air splitting perilously close to Rhane’s head. He lifted the sword overhead and behind. The air cracked again, this time with the ring of metal on metal.

He whirled to face the man who attacked, wielding Bellefuron to meet a violent flurry of strikes. He backed to the edge of the clearing. His blood awakened to the challenge. Rhane countered. Exchanging defense for offense, he cut mercilessly at every weak point. The two men danced to the center of the clearing and fell back. Blades held in opposite high and low guards, they circled dangerously, each calculating the other’s next move.

Rhane stared into pale blue eyes, trying to read them. “Why are you here, River?”