My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

345  Crow and Dove

The first page of the ancient looking book Zagan held in his hands had an old black and white drawing of two birds circling toward each other in the air. The two birds—one black and one white—looked as if they were preparing to fight.

It was elegant, Zagan thought, this moment that was depicted before the first draw of blood that would inevitably break the black and white spell with its garish splash of red. The inscription "Crow & Dove" was the only other thing on the page.

It appeared as if Nelo had given him the wrong book, which would be a huge inconvenience. Zagan was willing to go back to Gray Vale if he had to in order to retrieve the right information when it was regarding something as crucial as this, but it was certainly not ideal. He gritted his teeth, drawing blood from his own lip with one of his fangs.

When he flipped to the next page, it was blank… with the exception of several black and white feathers drawn at the bottom. On the following page, there was a simple heading: "The Liminal." Apparently the book started here. There was no table of contents or page numbers. It began with "The Liminal." He groaned but then read what followed.

"Two opposing drawn together, forces against the grain.

One liminal blooms from the center, this red or gray gateway.

A ceasing withers inward, gray heart plus two it makes.

Within this sacred fold, either the fluttering of new or perishing of old.

It cannot be both that wakes."

Zagan groaned again after finishing the verse. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely something less lyrical and more practical—like a how to manual or something about vampiric anatomy and mating behavior. Even a series of parables would be vastly more beneficial than whatever this was.

He flipped through more pages and found similar verses that seemed to want to simultaneously disguise and reveal. No dark secrets were brought to light. No answers were given. Why would Nelo hand him a book that told him nothing at all? If Penelope was his mate, he wanted to know how to take care of it immediately.

"For example, is it safe to kill her?" he hissed through his teeth.

"What boss?" Emmett called from the other side of the glass-paned room.

"Nothing," he called back with a dismissive flourish of his hand.

Zagan flipped to the end, hoping to find something of use hidden within. The final pages listed a series of dates and initials in small script. He squinted to read it and quickly recognized some of the dates and initials corresponded to vampires he was aware of that existed. So this was a list of vampires in existence and the dates they were created? He scanned through all of the entries before arriving at another familiar date and initial: "A.D. 1028, Z."

———————

August finally arrived at the staircase Penelope described. If only she had a light of some kind, because the stairway was pitch black. Her confidence wavered a bit as she imagined what kind of creatures could be waiting in the dark to jump out and scare her. But then she thought of who else could be waiting… a countless number of alyko who had been trapped on this island for years, many of them with families who believed them to be kidnapped or dead. Among those imprisoned here could also be Greta and Graeme's beloved Maggie.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the memories she had seen and felt of Graeme's—of Maggie's kindness and the reassurance and love she gave to the Hallowell twins who loved her like a close family member. And then she concentrated on Graeme, on the mate bond between them. If something did end up happening to August now, she wanted him to feel how profound her love for him was in the hope that it could sustain him when she was gone.

She found that golden cord within her that somehow connected her and her mate across space and time, but he felt so distant. It made her ache to pull on that cord and draw him into the world where she was. Maybe if she tried it, he would actually appear in this stairway with his deep, consuming eyes and powerful angles that sculpted every delicious part of him… and with his warmth that was like the sun. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

She twisted the band on her finger. He was her sun. She was his moon. Just the thought of him gave her strength, and she let out a deep, calming breath. If she imagined he was right next to her, she could do this. She could do this. She could walk blindly into the darkness, believing in the light at the other end. If it was for him, she could do anything.

In the dark staircase, August's twin golden suns could be seen glowing. But she couldn't see anything beyond the black air. Her hand traced the stone wall as she descended, steps believing in the ground that had yet to fail in meeting them, rewarding their faith. After what seemed like an eternity of her heart hammering in her ears, she finally felt the even ground under her feet.

A minute amount of light was enough for her to see that she had arrived on another floor with the same gray stone walls. Now she just had to find a door that would lead her out onto the castle grounds. If she followed the exterior wall, assuming this was the exterior wall, it would inevitably lead the way.

This logic paid off when she finally arrived at a large arched doorway with a fragment of crumbling stone jammed at its base, keeping it open to the outside. She looked around for the person responsible. Clearly someone had put this here, but the hall was empty. The clanking of pots and pans then arose a short distance away, and without further hesitation she scampered through the opening into fresh air and the sound of nature that she so missed.