Page 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

The book sits on the table in front of Harek and me. I still haven’t touched it, hardly able to believe it could hold answers about my father that I’ve wanted to know since the day I understood Gunnar wasn’t my father.

“Do you want me to open it?” Harek asks.

I avoid the question. “What’s the title?”

“ The Hunter .”

“That’s it?” I ask. “Seems like a lot of letters for two words.”

“It’s a different alphabet. I can teach you.”

“Later.”

He rests his hand on mine and gives a gentle squeeze. “I know this is nerve wracking, but this is why we came here.”

I take a deep breath. He’s right—I didn’t come all this way to hide from the truth. Without giving it another thought, I reach for the book and pull it closer. The cover feels creamy and smooth, and when I trace the lettering it glows faintly.

So does my palm.

I leap back, like it’s on fire, and gasp.

Harek smirks. “If there was any doubt this is a book about your lineage, that’s now extinguished.”

“How can you find this amusing?”

“Because I’m happy for you, Eira. You’re about to get all the answers you’ve always wanted. How many times over the years have you asked questions about your heritage? Now they’re all at your fingertips.”

I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but what other choice do I have? If I want the full story, it’s right here. My readiness is irrelevant, so I scoot closer to the book. Again my palm glows faintly, matching the lettering on the cover.

“How does it do that?” I ask.

“Magic.” Harek says it like that’s the most obvious answer in the world. Maybe it is.

“Do you think it’s good? Every other time my palm has glowed, it seems to indicate danger.”

“It’s probably more complex than that.”

“Apparently.” I draw in another deep breath before opening the book to the first page. Those words also glow, and my palm doesn’t fade.

Harek leans closer. “Do you want me to read it?”

I blink a few times as I look at the faintly glowing words. “No, you don’t need to.”

“But you can’t read this.”

“Actually, I think I can.”

He stares at me like I’ve just grown another head.

“Tell me if I’m right.”

“Okay…”

I bring my palm closer to the writing. “The hunter line has existed as long as the fae to keep the balance. Without these rare fae, evil would overcome good, and the entire world would be in peril.”

Harek’s mouth falls open. “Nobody ever taught you to read fae?”

“Who would have? I barely learned to read the language of our people. Well, those of Skoro, not our people.”

“Your mother would have known how to read it.” His tone seems accusatory.

“She never taught me. Are you accusing me of lying?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“You’re one to talk, anyway,” I snap back. “You didn’t tell me any of us are werewolves. If I’d have known that killing would trigger a curse, I could’ve at least known what I was walking into.”

He looks like he’s struggling with how to respond. “Didn’t we already have this conversation? Either way, it was your mother who raised you—if anyone should’ve told you everything, it was her.”

“You’re blaming my dead mother? Again?”

“You can’t deny she left you at a disadvantage by keeping everything from you. It was her decision to let you think you were only human. My parents never agreed with her but went along with it because she was your mother. It wasn’t their place to say anything, and therefore it wasn’t mine either.”

A lump forms in my throat. He’s right, but I don’t want to admit it. Not when it means being mad at my recently deceased mother who put up with Gunnar all those years. “Why didn’t she raise me with our pack? Why follow your parents to Skoro?”

“She had to have been terrified for your safety.”

“Terrified?”

“You’re the hunter’s daughter—though I didn’t know that . To my knowledge, she didn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she took to the grave. There’s no way she didn’t know the lore surrounding the hunter. Speaking of that, I’d really like to read the book to find out if it’s true.”

“That my father or I have to kill the other one?” I fold my arms.

Harek’s eyes widen. “You know about that?”

“Vivvi told me what you wouldn’t.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“No?” I stare him down. “Then how is it?”

He reaches for the book. “I wanted to find out if the rumors were true before scaring you with what could be just old fairy tales.”

“You need to stop trying to protect me and start telling me the full truth, or you’re going to need protection from me.”

Harek jolts slightly. “Understood.”

We read, taking turns and flying through the pages. Everything Vivvi told me holds true. It wouldn’t surprise me if she read from this very book back when she was obsessed with my grandfather.

According to this book, the hunters have always been male, and once a child starts coming into his—or her, in my case—powers, the mature hunter begins weakening. But no hunter has ever gotten so weak they died of natural causes.

They always fight to the death. Without exception.

My stomach flip-flops at that thought, which activates the magic inside of me to start racing around. I really need to get through this book and find out how to deal with this magic. It doesn’t matter if I get rid of it or learn how to control it.

Fae come and go, passing us as the hours speed along. The tome is full of stories about my ancestors, going back many generations. Most of the hunters live more than a century, some for several and others for far less time. It all depends on how long they go without procreating. The longest was just over five hundred years, and the shortest not even twenty.

I have no idea how old my father is. Clearly younger than Vivvi who had a thing for his father, but with fae it’s impossible to tell. If Vivvi was human, I’d guess her to be in her late fifties at the oldest. However, as a fae she has to be centuries old.

“Did you hear that?” Harek’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

Crap. I wasn’t listening, and this is life or death. “Sorry, no. My mind wandered.”

“Your stomach aches aren’t caused by magic.”

That gets my attention. “What is it?”

He throws me an exasperated glance. “Next time your mind drifts, let me know.”

“What’s the deal with the black mist I absorbed?”

Harek points to a paragraph on the middle of the lefthand open page. “It says here that when a hunter kills an evil fae, they take the souls with them.”

Everything beyond the table disappears as I process the news. It can’t be. “I have evil souls in my stomach?”

“Unfortunately. That’s why it feels like they’re fighting each other—they probably are.”

“How do I get rid of them?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

My skin crawls at the thought that I’ve been carrying around the souls of the fae I killed. “I need to get them out!”

“We’ll figure it out. Let’s keep reading.”

I shudder. “Foreign magic would be so much better. Evil souls are so gross.”

“It says?—”

“What if I can’t get rid of them? Will I have to carry them around for the rest of my life?”

“We’ll find out if you let me read.”

“Go on.”

He turns back to the book. “It says here the hunter’s sword collects the souls.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Gunnar has my sword!”

“I know.”

“What am I supposed to do now? Go all the way back to Skoro with these souls inside me and then figure out where he hid it?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“It’ll take another week to get back, and we just got here!”

“I know.”

“This is the worst news.”

He lifts a brow. “Worse than finding out you have to kill your father?”

“He’ll probably kill me. I bet every other hunter has trained for that battle for their entire life. I’ve been scooping manure.”

“Then we’ll train together. I’ll teach you everything I know about the bow and arrow.”

I sigh, feeling more defeated than ever. “He’s probably over three hundred years old. I don’t stand a chance.”

“He’s also weakening, and you’re getting stronger. That’s an advantage.”

“Did you forget the part about me having no experience?”

“This book and the rumors both confirm that he’s losing his strength.”

“What if I don’t want to kill my one remaining parent?”

Harek frowns. “You know the answer to that.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“Right, and I’m not about to let that happen. He’s going to have to get through me first. We could wait until the full moon and fight him then.”

“That’s it!”

He nods. “He won’t be able to stand against two wolves, especially if one is the hunter.”

My mind spins, putting all the pieces together. “There’s never been a werewolf hunter before. That will be my advantage.” I push the chair back, a renewed sense of courage running through me. “Now we have to find him.”

“Not so fast.”

“What?” I turn to him.

“You need to go through a shift before even thinking about something like this. The first is always the hardest because it’s so weird.”

“Okay, I’ll shift on the night before the full moon and then fight him the next night.”

“It takes time to adjust. You might feel sick after your first time turning.”

“I already feel sick with the evil souls fighting inside of me.”

“How about we finish reading this book before we make any decisions? There’s a lot to consider, and you aren’t even sure you want to fight him.”

“I am. He’s had his chance at life, and now it’s mine.”

“What happened to you not wanting to be an orphan?”

“If the choice is between him and me, I choose me. He clearly didn’t want anything to do with me, so why should I care about him?”

“Are you sure?”

I square my shoulders. “Yes, but first I need to find out more about my sword. Once I get it back, I need to know how to get these souls out of me. I also have to find out how to keep from absorbing anymore.”

“Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

We start flipping through more pages. I can’t wait to be able to manage my true nature on my own.

Then I can think about how to beat my father at his own game.