I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (43 page)

"I told you I'd find it," the old man says in a strong, but wobbly voice.

"Find what, Cephas?" I reply in a deep baritone. Who is Cephas? And why do I sound like a man?

"The letters! I found the letters from the angel!" he exclaims, standing up much slower than his enthusiasm wants him to.

"Let me see them," I request, extending my arm. My movement, which I'm consciously not participating in, strikes me as odd. Sheets filled with scribbles, symbols and strokes stare back at me, but I'm incapable of reading a single one.

"Ah yes, I do see what you mean now. The letters from the angel do bear his name. Funny, considering he’s a werewolf." I don't know what any of this means, but somehow I'm reading and interpreting them. Who's the werewolf he's talking about?

"Aquila, why should it matter? He's well trained and fights for what he believes in. A man that noble can't be overlooked," the man called Cephas retorts.

"Cephas, we've been through this. It's too risky to invite him here or show ourselves, especially now that Micah's involved. We can't chance this book getting into the wrong hands," I say, tapping my fingertip on the hefty book's open page. Something about it feels familiar.

"I know, Aquila. Micah is a threat, which is why we need to assemble the community," he spits indignantly. "We can't just sit here, hoping he doesn't find us... he will, you know... sooner or later. He's very resourceful," he adds as an afterthought. “Have you spoken to The Highers?”

“Yes. They fear we are being overzealous and do not believe there is any real threat yet.” I sigh, placing my fingers on the bridge of my nose, and massaging it. "I need to think about this, Cephas. We’re on our own for now," I answer.

My eyes pop open and the familiar walls of my bedroom are the only things in sight. That wasn’t a dream; it was a vision. The significance of what happened settles in my brain as a smile plays on the side of my mouth. I was one of the Scholars! I squeak with excitement, which soon gives way to dread. Even though I placed myself there, the reality is, I'm capable of doing what Micah needs. Talk about raining on my parade! I throw the covers off me, checking my reflection in the mirror. A few tugs and pulls on my hair, then on my shirt do the trick. Sliding my feet into my green fuzzy slippers, I head downstairs, completely ignoring Valen's shut door. A clattering of pots and pans comes from the kitchen, telling me someone besides Martello is cooking breakfast. I round the corner just in time to watch Roman drop a few slices of white bread on the floor. Giggles escape my mouth.

"What are you doing?" I ask with no attempt to hide my amusement.

Roman frowns. "I was trying to make breakfast," he responds, looking flustered.

I help him clean up the slices of bread, and throw them away in the trash. "You don't have to do this," I say, pointing to the mess in the kitchen. Flour is sprinkled sporadically on the countertop along with egg drippings from where he cracked them. Pools of butter lie half-melted on plates full of soggy pancakes. "Would you like some help?"

He nods. "Apparently, acting normal is a lot harder than it appears," he grins.

I grab some paper towels and a sponge, wiping away the flour and egg splatterings. Next, I categorize the ingredients. Organization is the only way I know how to work. I break two eggs in the large bowl, throw some milk and pancake mix in, and whisk it smooth. Roman stares at me with the concentration of a soldier. You would think I'm disarming a bomb, not making pancakes. I drizzle the batter into a butter-soaked pan, flipping the pancake as soon as numerous bubbles appear on one side.

"Bubbles are the key," I say, looking at Roman. "When there are a lot of bubbles, that's when you know they’re ready to be flipped."

He cocks his head at me. "Good to know."

I flip the first pancake, allowing it to cook on the other side. "Why didn't you just spell up some fancy eggs?" I ask curiously.

"I don't use magic for trivial things," he answers, pointing to a golden brown pancake sitting in the pan. "That's not what it's for."

I shrug, wondering about the direction of his moral compass. Sliding the pancake out of the pan and onto an empty plate, I smile. "Now, spread a smidge of butter on it." I watch Roman do as instructed. He lightly scrapes a small amount from the container, spreading it evenly on the pancake. He's always so focused. I wonder if he ever gets distracted. Sunlight peeks through the curtains, brightening the area where he's standing. My eyes are drawn to the light reflecting off his well-developed arms and chiseled features. He's a sight, that's for sure. I promptly turn away, trying to deny my attraction to him.

"I had an intriguing vision last night," I announce.

Roman stops buttering the pancake, and places the knife on the edge of the plate. "About what?"

I slide the last pancake off the pan, before placing it back on the stove. "I saw one of the Scholars," I say with a sneaky smile. I'm not trying to hide anything; I just don't know if I should celebrate yet.

Roman's eyes widen. "You saw them?"

"Roman, I was one of them," I answer excitedly. "I saw what one of them was seeing. I was him, but not really. I couldn't walk or say what I wanted... it was more like I was a spectator in his body," I add, hoping he understands.

He raises his thick fingers to his chin, stroking it soothingly. "Did you find out where they are located?"

I shake my head. "No, but I was in an underground tunnel with paintings on the walls. I was able to make out one of a man surrounded by fire," I trail off.

"It sounds like an ancient region," he responds. "The problem is there are thousands of them." He thinks out loud. "There's a good chance the painting you saw was a hieroglyphic or an early form of symbolism, which might help us narrow down their location," he continues. "If you saw that area again, would you recognize it?" he asks, sitting down at the table.

"Without a doubt," I reply.

"Recognize what?" Valen interrupts, walking his shirtless self into the kitchen.

I rumble inwardly. He's doing this on purpose; talk about not playing fair. I turn my back to him, not in the mood to hold a conversation. Roman dives right in, updating him on my vision. I finish cooking the French toast and scrambled eggs, and place them on the kitchen table. I snatch some plates and silverware, haphazardly putting them next to the eggs. It's going to be a buffet-style breakfast this morning. I grab a plate and fork, filling it with food, and slide into the chair next to Roman. Heaving a forkful of eggs into my mouth, I’m far too hungry to act shy.

"Europe might be a good start," Valen says, lowering himself into the seat next to me. "Roman, it's possible they might be hiding in the catacombs."

Roman ponders this, before nodding in agreement.

"Why the catacombs? I thought they were just tombs," I question.

Valen fixes his eyes on me. "Yes, the catacombs were used as burial sites centuries ago when Romans didn't allow burials inside the city. Because of this, miles of underground tunnels were dug, which form intricate mazes."

"Christian art is painted on the walls, which may very well explain what you saw," Roman adds.

I mull this over. It makes sense to me, considering the art and underground tunnel. I don't understand what we’re going to do with this information. I can't imagine traveling to Europe, hoping to find people who spent their entire existence hiding with magic. "So what do we do now?"

"Find them," Roman answers.

"Isn't that putting them in more danger?" I stress.

Roman leans forward. "Anna, we need to warn them. If they know how serious this is, perhaps they can help us."

I drop my fork on my plate, suddenly losing my appetite. "They know Micah is after the book," I divulge. "In my vision, they were looking at letters... from an angel," I pause. "The Scholar named Cephas was concerned with Micah's involvement. He was trying to convince the other Scholar, Aquila, to assemble people and help them fight against him," I finish.

Roman exhales. "Amazing," he states, falling back into his chair. "What else was said?"

I leave out the werewolf comment, not ready to share it yet. If Roman really is jealous of Valen, he might find a way to re-interpret the information. I'll keep it to myself until I can tell Valen in private. "Aquila was hesitant about accepting help in fear of giving away their location... the safety of the book is his main concern; so he has to think about it. The Highers are not helping either. They don’t believe the Scholars are in danger yet."

“That’s absurd!” Roman exclaims, slamming his fist on the table. The silverware jumps up with the impact, clacking loudly. “I apologize for the outburst." Roman composes himself before speaking again. "Micah is an extreme threat and if he gets hold of that book, The Highers will be destroyed.”

I shrug. What can we do? I push the food around on my plate, noticing Valen and Roman don’t even touch theirs. Generally, Martello and Kristy would gobble up most of it, but they had to be at work early this morning. What a waste.

"Let's wait it out. We can't fly off to Europe, just hoping they're there," Valen replies, looking at me. "Anna, do you think you could try and zero in on them? Maybe find a landmark?"

I sigh. "I can try," I respond miserably. I want to help out as much as I can, but this feels too invasive, not to mention dangerous. What if Micah finds out? Then what? All the time we spent training and preparing won't mean anything if he gets his hands on the book.

"I know it's risky, but it's the only way," Roman says to me. "If we can get to the Scholars first, then the chance of Micah finding the book will be much slimmer," he finishes, folding his hands together like a true businessman.

"I realize that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it," I retort. How are we going to keep our search off the radar? "Can Micah see my visions?" I ask, meeting confused eyes. "Can he monitor the things I see... like a wire tap on my mind?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but be sure to use the scramble spell beforehand to stay on the safe side," Roman answers.

I scowl lightly, convinced there's no such thing as a safe side anymore.

"For now, let's focus on your training," Roman suggests.

He stands up with his full plate of food, and tosses it into the garbage before placing the plate in the sink. What is it with these guys? I barely ever see them eat. I follow suit, only my stomach is full and my plate is empty. As I turn to clear the table, Valen grabs my hand. "Anna, I'll clean up. Get out there and practice."

I smile, and say a small thank you before diving out the back door. The less I see of him, the better. I’m still bent out of shape after last night. I catch up to Roman as we begin running through the normal spells of binding, shielding, and scrambling to warm up. Today's lesson is how to change other people and myself into animals, or as Roman calls it, the metamorphosis spell.

"The trick is to envision the animal you want to shift into. The drawback is you must have seen it previously with your own eyes," Roman instructs.

I've seen a lot of animals. "What if I saw them on television, does that count?" Sounds stupid, but it's a logical question.

Roman laughs. "No, it doesn't... with your own eyes," he chides, pointing at his. "If you were at the zoo and saw a lion, you can draw on that."

This is astonishing. I’ve been to the zoo a dozen times and seen all types of animals, so this exercise is going to be fun, to say the least. "What do I do?" I ask.

"Close your eyes and envision the animal. Study it from top to bottom as you place yourself inside it."

I shut my eyes, allowing his voice to guide me. I imagine the ring-tailed lemur. I survey its pointy ears, passing its beady brown eyes until I reach the end of its black-and-gray-striped tail. Without warning, my vision is suddenly focused on Roman's shins as I lift my tiny head upward. He smiles down at me. I look at the comfortable gray fur covering my entire body. I glide my leathery hand up and down my arm as my soft coat massages my tiny black palm. My sense of smell is magnified, allowing me to smell things from much further away. At one point, a whiff of the creek Valen and I were at filters into my nose. I jump a few times, acquainting myself with my novel sprightliness. I run towards the trees like a dog chasing a rabbit. At the tree line, I hurdle myself upward, gliding into the air. My tiny hand hooks onto the closest tree limb, and proves it's stronger than it looks. My body takes over, recognizing the familiar landscape. It flings me through the trees like a trapeze artist, flipping and spiraling between limbs. Near exhaustion, I saunter back to Roman, who’s standing in the field with a wide grin.