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Seth shook his head. “Psychometry isn’t one of my skills. But Dad is amazing.”

Orsini smiled. “He was amazing when he wasyourage. I long to see what he is capable of now.”

Jake pointed to the carving of a bear holding a spear on the side of the nearest casket. “That’s on three of them.”

“It would be. Those would have been taken from the tomb of Berengar, an ancient shifter. His name meansbearandspear.”

“When was he alive?” Jake loved Seth’s tone of awe.

“According to records, he lived in Germany in the mid twelve hundreds.” Orsini’s hand trembled as he stroked the lid.

Jake didn’t want to wait a second longer.

“Help me move this, carefully,” he asked Brick. Together they lifted the lid, then set it down on the rug. Jake peered into the shallow casket, his breath catching in his throat at the sight. Nestled in layers of cloth was a sheaf of thick, fluffy sheets of paper, a deep cream in color, almost yellow in places. A woven strand had been tied around them.

“Is that paper?” Brick asked.

“Yes. Probably the oldest form of paper we have,” Orsini told him.

“Why does it look like that?”

“If it’s the same as the paper on which theMissal of Godwinwas recorded, it’s made from flax and a small amount of straw. The paper appears thick and fluffy because the fibers had been chewed and beaten.”

Jake touched the top sheet, and an electric shock zapped through him.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. He focused his senses, concentrating on the image that filled his mind.

“What? What do you see? What do you feel?” Orsini’s rapid breathing betrayed his own excitement.

“I see a man. He… he’s huge. Even bigger than Brick, and that’s saying something. He’s wearing a robe with a fur collar.” The light that fell on him came from torches and shallow metal bowls suspended on chains, in which flames flickered.

“You could be seeing Berengar himself. Where is he?”

Jake fought to control his elation. “He’s in a room. The walls and floor are stone. The three caskets with the carvings are there too.” He shivered. “So old….”

“The sheets of paper?”

“Not just them. Everything.” All he saw had to have taken place long, long ago. The robes the guy wore, the swords on the wall, arranged in a semicircle, the decorations…. Jake swallowed. “I think you’re right. This could be Berengar.”

“Ohhh.” Orsini gasped. “What I would give to see with your eyes.”

“Can we open another casket?” Seth was like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Brick added. “The hairs are standing up on the back of my neck.”

Jake totally got that. He was bubbling inside.

They removed another lid to find another sheaf of papers, nestled in several layers of fabric. Jake laid his hands on them, and the emotions that washed over and through him were intoxicating. “These were written a long time ago.” Then he paused. “Wait.” Something tugged at his mind, and he closed his eyes to focus.

“What is it?” Seth demanded.

“It’s Berengar again… but this time he’s focused on a document. Whatever is on it has really shaken him.”

“Can you see what it is?” Brick asked.

Jake shook his head. “Not clearly. All I can make out is a painting. He isn’t looking at text.” He opened his eyes, his heart pounding. “Let’s open the last two. Then we can get started.”

What drew him, however, was the casket with no carving.