Page 134 of Visions, Paws, and Claws

Jake resumed his task, taking a moment to retrace his steps in Fielding’s mind. “I saw some of your handiwork at the archive. Well, not yours, but I’m sure it was a Geran who produced it.” When Fielding didn’t react, Jake cocked his head to one side. “Surely you haven’t forgotten? Ansger’s comments to Ansfrid about what would come of mixing with humans? Because I haven’t. Those words are burned into my brain.” He closed his eyes and recited the text Orsini had read to him more than thirty years ago.

For so long as you choose to mix the blood of humans and versipelli, my brother, you will bring about our destruction. Mankind is weak, but we are strong. Mankind’s place is beneath our feet, but our destiny is to rule. Mankind has tried to eliminate us already, and your weakness for their company would bring us to the brink of extinction. You have chosen your path, my brother, and I have chosen mine. Peace is not the answer, only war. And if you continue along this path, then my war will be against not only mankind, but against you, and any who choose to follow your example.

Horvan made a choking sound. “Oh gods.” Then he paused. “Wait—what do you mean, handiwork?”

“They produced an artifact, one that supported the tale of the brothers’ split. Except it wasn’t real.” He glanced at Horvan. “What I just read to you wasn’t real. I was able to tell Orsini that much. The last thing he said when I left him was that he would get it dated.”

“Orsini spoke of this,” Aelryn confirmed. “And you were correct. The document dates back to the early nineteen hundreds.”

Jake blinked and jerked his head in Aelryn’s direction. “Is he still alive?”

Aelryn smiled. “Yes. And he’s still the archivist.”

“Then we’re going to need him. If we can get him to leave the archive.” There was a mystery to be solved in those stone caskets—wherever they were—and Orsini would be key to cracking it.

Aelryn frowned. “Can you search for any memory of Valmer Cooper?”

Fielding twitched again, and Jake chuckled. “He knows that name too. Who is he?”

“A Geran. He might even be a leader.”

Jake closed his eyes, focusing once more. “He’s there, with Theron.” Jake frowned. “I don’t understand. If he’s a Geran, why have they had him beaten? Why are they holding him?”

“As leverage. He’s definitely there?”

“Yes.” Jake had a ton of questions, but they would have to wait. He delved a little deeper, aware of the fatigue crawling through him, making him ache.

I’ll have to stop soon.

Fielding had become very still, and Jake’s instinct went on alert.

What is it you don’t want me to see?

“You’ve killed many times for your master, haven’t you?” he murmured.

“Well, we know about Dellan’s stepbrother, Anson,” Horvan commented.

Fielding let out a whimper, and Jake saw what he’d tried so hard to hide. He froze, his limbs heavy as lead, pain lancing through his chest. “I ought to shift and tear you apart where you sit.”

A hand touched his shoulder, and Jake knew it was Aelryn. “Jake, what have you seen?”

Tears trickled down Jake’s cheeks, and he did nothing to impede them. “He killed my wife. Injected her with something. Then he stood there while she died.” He pushed the memory aside, unable to watch Miranda’s beautiful face as it contorted in agony.

Nicholas was right.

It was one thing to suspect it, but quite another to know it for certain.

Jake struggled to get back on track. “There’s another death. A scarred man with long gray hair and dark eyes.”

Aelryn’s breathing caught. “Is the scar on his neck?”

“Yes.”

“What can you glean about him?”

“He gave the Gerans information about your activities.” Jake stiffened. “He was the one who told them about me visiting the archive.”

“Raderan Milos, a Fridan leader. He committed suicide about twenty-eight years ago.”

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