Page 37 of The Wild Moon
“Now, why on earth would you gift me a journal that you hadn’t filled?” I mused, tapping my chin in thought. “What were you trying to tell me?”
The more I considered it, the more I was certain something had happened on his last trip. Something he couldn’t tell me about. Or didn’t want to. No, that couldn’t be it. If he were trying to protect me, he wouldn’t have gifted me the journal. After all, he’d never let me read one before. Now he wasgivingme an unfinished one?
That has to mean something, I thought. I just didn’t know what.
My eyes lingered on the last page, his final entry.
Today was productive. I’m certain that this valley is where I will find it. At this point, it’s only a matter of time before I find Shuldar. I must be thorough, however. The ancients were keen to hide from the outside world, that much I have gleaned from the bits and pieces I have found. Why, I do not know, but they did not seem to want to be found.
Still, I am confident that at some point, I will find it. All the clues point to here. To this valley. Even the most recent artifact we have recovered confirms this. I must take it back to Lars for verification, but I am positive he will agree. I’m so close! This is it. The big discovery.
The journal entry ended. I frowned at the dried ink on the cream-colored page. What artifact had he recovered? I remembered when he came home unexpectedly for my Soulshift. He’d said he had to update our Alpha on what he’d found. What had he told Lars? Why hadn’t he put more information in the journal?!
Sighing, I flipped through the pages, back toward the beginning. Eventually, I would go through it, entry by entry, but for now, I was looking for anything that stood out, anything that caught my attention. Anything that—
“What the fuck?” I gasped, sitting upright, staring at the page in shock.
There was no journal entry this time. No words on the page. Instead, there was a sketched image.
It was the being from my dreams. Sure, he had a pair of horns jutting from his head and was holding a long spear of some sort, but there was no mistaking the angular jaw, the long black hair, and the eyes. They were filled with black ink in the journal, but in my mind's eye, I saw the blue fires burning in them.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered, stunned. “What the hell does this mean? Where did you get this image?”
There was no name attached to it. I flicked back a page, but the only information I could find was that my father had copied the image from a drawing he’d found on a cave wall.
I stared at the image for a long time, willing it to come alive. This was important. It had to be. That man had appeared in my dreams. Except he’d claimed they weren’t dreams. Visions, then? Who knows. It proved I wasn’t insane, for starters, but also, I knew now I had to find out more about who it was in the picture.
Answers. I needed answers.
Slowly, I thumbed through the rest of the entries, but there was nothing else. No more drawings. The last page flicked free of my thumb and rested flat. The business card slid free, and I pushed it back against the spine with my index finger.
I frowned at the card, deep in thought.
Chapter Twenty-One
The business card spun between my fingers, twirling round and round as I stared at it as if eventually something would be revealed about the card’s owner.
Of course, it wasn’t a magical business card, so it just kept spinning, over and over. I was stalling. Which was ironic, considering I’d slept the night without making any rash decisions, letting myself wait until morning before I took one course of action or the other.
Shocking, I know, but who said an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks?
“Either you call it, or you don’t,” I told myself.
The card spun on.
Light streamed through the single window in my room, a welcome contrast to when I’d come home the night before and sat staring at the journal with nothing but the single overhead light to read by. It was sunny today. Clear skies, and it looked like it was going to be rather nice out.
Finally, I snapped the card down on the table and took out my pay-as-you-go cellphone. It wasn’t a smartphone. I didn’t spend money on that. It was simply for making or receiving phone calls. Cheap and easy, and if I didn’t use it much, hopefully untraceable.
Maybe I’m giving Lars too much credit. He’s never been a huge technology buff. Likes to do things the old-fashioned way, or so he says. Besides, he has Johnathan to track me, anytime, anywhere.
I shivered, hating that reminder.
Okay, fine. Time to put up or shut up, Dani. You want to find your parents? Stop being a wimp and dial the damn number.
I flicked open my phone—yes, it’s a flip phone, so what?—and punched in the number, stabbing a finger at the send button before I could rethink my decision. It was just a phone number. Nothing bad was going to happen from calling it.
“Hello there,” a sultry Australian voice greeted me. “The customer you have dialed is unavailable. Please leave a voicemail after the tone.”
