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Logan stepped closer, his shaky breaths audible. “Is that…” His nostrils flared, and his arms began to tremble with the threat of the Shift. The temperature of the room spiked several degrees, causing sweat to prickle across Max’s back. “Is that my dad?”
Bleddyn Sands—so young, Max had failed to recognize him at first.
Max scanned the group again. Six of them—the people in the front row—wore fine silver chains around their necks, but the pendants were too small to tell what they were. They looked like thin, rectangular pieces of metal. “What are they wearing?”
“Keys?” Jewels guessed. “Like the solar amulet, maybe?”
Max turned to face Logan, who was having trouble getting a handle on the Shift. “What would you be willing to bet your dad was killed for this?” He jabbed a finger at the grainy face of Bleddyn Sands—and the pendant he wore around his neck.
“Jaden…,” Sabrine breathed. “What if Jaden and Calanthe knew about this, about his involvement in the society, and that’s why they’ve been planting dead vampires in Werewolf Territory? Because they want something. This, maybe.” She pointed again at the photo.
“Sab,” Dallas warned quietly. She wasn’t the only one now watching Logan with vigilance.
Max angled his body, shielding Dallas from Logan.
Sabrine settled a calming hand on Logan’s trembling arm. “It’s okay,” she whispered, rubbing his arm. “Breathe, okay? Breathe, honey. We’re all here with you.”
Everyone stood in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Logan’s shaking to subside, and the fire in his eyes to dim. Max stayed on high alert, keeping his body partially shielding Dallas. Werewolves as powerful and unpredictable as Logan were ticking time bombs. The amount of destruction he’d wreak if he lost control, even for only a few seconds…
Finally, Logan calmed down. As the temperature in the room cooled, he murmured, “Darien said the same thing. He thinks they need an excuse to attack—to come onto my land and…”
Sabrine pointed at the pendant—key, maybe—that Bleddyn wore around his neck. “Go looking for this?” she finished gently.
“Maybe.” Logan swallowed. “My dad…he never told me.”
“Doesn’t mean he was keeping secrets, bud,” Max said. “If Erasmus and Cyra are spelled and can’t speak, it might’ve been the same for your dad.”
“What are these over here?” Lace asked. She was looking at a collection of photographs taped to the wall. All of them were individual student photos.
The group moved over to look.
“Oh my god,” Sabrine said, her gaze snagging on a young man—the first photo in the top row. “Is that—”
“Holy shit,” Dallas breathed. “Is that the Staring Teenager?”
"He was a member of the Phoenix Head Society?” Lace guessed.
Dallas shook her head. “No, these are the members of the Phoenix Head Society.” She pointed at the group photograph to their left.
“Then who are all of these people?” Sabrine’s voice wavered; she was likely drawing the same conclusion Max had just drawn.
“Sacrifices,” he said, remembering the many rumors they’d uncovered about the society—the act known as the Initiation. Several of the people in their group turned to look at him, their eyes brimming with questions. Max whispered, “These are the people who died in the Well.”
“Let me see that book,” Travis said to Sabrine. “The one you found in the library.” With all the shit they’d just uncovered, with having no excuse to come down here but a book randomly shelved in the wrong area, Travis had a thought. He might be wrong, but it was worth checking, anyway.
Sabrine opened her book bag, took out the heavy tome, and handed it to him.
He opened the front cover. There was a manila sleeve taped to the inside. He thumbed the library sign-out card free and checked the names listed in different handwriting. The last person to sign this book out was—
“T. Isley,” he read aloud. He recognized the last name.
Dallas and Sabrine said in unison, “Tamika?” They shared a glance.
Tamika Isley—the optometrist. The woman who’d come to Hell’s Gate not long ago to share her information about Spirit Terra.
“You think she left that book in the wrong spot on purpose?” Sabrine asked.
Travis said, “I’m starting to think nobody does anything on accident anymore.”
