Page 39 of Keeper of All

“I’m better than that,” Ekon said through gritted teeth, pointing angrily at the wall. “If you think I'm letting you go out there alone, you’re wrong.”

“I'm asking you to trust me.” Mao kept his voice gentle. “I'm asking you to understand that you don't have to do everything alone anymore. You have a family. You have a mate. A mate who loves you more than life itself. And I'm asking you, please, let me go and do this. Let me at least try and find him. If I don't find him within the hour, I’ll be back. I promise. We'll think of another plan such as…” Mao truly had no idea. “Maybe there's something your magic can do to get the journal back.”

“Featherman said he was trying to find the answers,” Ekon replied tiredly, as he seemed to melt against Mao's chest.

At least I’m not in the doghouse anymore. “Whether he has answers or not, Featherman breached this family’s trust by taking something without asking. This place is warded by him for a reason. And he timed his visit deliberately. He could have come any time in the last week, and yet he chose the one time when you were alone. There has to be a reason for that.” Mao wasn’t going to forget that and wanted to know why. “I need to find him and discover just what the hell he knows about all this. Whether it's anything or nothing, we need to know.”

Ekon nodded. “I could do with a drink,” he said, his arm slipping around Mao's waist. “But you're not the only one who's mated,” Ekon added, keeping his voice low. “My instincts scream at me to protect you, too.”

“There are probably going to be a million times in our life together where you can,” Mao placated. “And I will be grateful each and every time. But right now, this is my home turf, and I'd far rather be spending my efforts locating that journal instead of having to watch out for snakes, okay, babe?”

Ekon nodded, and while Mao knew Ekon wasn't happy, he didn’t appear to want to argue anymore. Or possibly he doesn’t have the energy. Just thinking that sent Mao’s sense of urgency into a frenzy. He didn’t enjoy being on a time crunch—the one-hour promise sat like a stone in his gut—but Mom would tell him he was learning the art of compromise, and Mao would do his best. He and Ekon were still learning how to adapt to each other, and compromising was a good start.

“Enjoy your drink, put your feet up in the cool, and I'll be back before you know it,” he said, kissing Ekon's forehead. Mom came over, taking Ekon's arm, and they walked back to the house. Ekon seemed to stumble for a moment as he looked back, and Mao waited until they were both out of sight before he stripped off his clothes and his panther form appeared.

Yes, they'd already been for a run, and spending that time with Mom had been special. This time, Mao warned his cat, we have a mission.

They knew what that journal smelled like. It carried the traces of Ekon and the eternal fae, mixed in with smells of the bunker—old papers and the mustiness that permeated everything when fresh air wasn’t an option.

There was nothing like that in the jungle, which meant, in theory, that journal should be easy to find. We'd just better hope the thief hasn't just dumped it in a tree trunk somewhere and left it, Mao thought as he scaled the wall and jumped over, heading back into the jungle.

Mao could shrug off the muggy heat as he headed deeper into the jungle. He was used to it. But his worries about Ekon were growing.

You should’ve stayed and at least found out what else Featherman said to our mate. No, as per normal, you just ran off, hot headed, and determined to do the right thing, even when you don’t know what that is.

Conscious of the time, Mao kept moving. Usually, when he was tracking, he had his nose to the ground, but because they had no idea how Featherman actually got around, Mao was searching for traces of the journal in the air. By the Fates and all that keeps this jungle safe, I hope I can find it.

It was getting close to the hour when Mao had promised to be back. He felt Ekon's presence in his brain throughout, but his mate didn't seem to have left the house, which showed the trust Mao had asked for. Just the more he paced through the undergrowth, the more that thought nagged at him too.

If Ekon was too tired to leave the house… shifters didn’t get sick as a rule. Admittedly Ekon wasn’t a regular shifter, and the need for answers grew more pressing.

Just about ready to accept defeat, Mao’s cat suddenly stiffened. There, among the bird song and rustle of life in the jungle, he heard something else—a sound not usually associated with wildlife. Someone was chuckling.

Inhaling sharply Mao could pick up the faint traces of smoke in the air. That had better not be one of my brothers messing with me, Mao thought as he turned and ran in that direction. It only took a few moments before Mao appeared in a small clearing, completely enclosed by taller trees and numerous vines. Mao was damn sure he’d passed by that area just ten minutes before and there’d been no clearing there then.

Sitting on a log in the center of the glade was Featherman. The man was cradling a mug that held something that smelled like herbal tea. Mao’s eyes focused on the journal that was resting on the log next to him. Lifting the side of his lip, Mao’s cat snarled.

If anything, Featherman’s chuckles increased. “Your protective instincts are powerful and understandable when you feel your mate has been wronged, but as a child of this jungle, I already know you won’t hurt me.”

Don’t be too sure. Mao’s snarling got louder. He could feel Ekon’s worry for him leaching through their bond, and tried to block it, but he didn’t have Ekon’s skills.

“You don’t have the time to be posturing with me.” Featherman pulled a piece of twine from a pocket Mao was sure hadn’t been there before. Picking up the journal, he wrapped it around the cover in a cross tie, leaving a loop at one end.

Tossing the journal so it fell between Mao’s front paws, Featherman said, “Listen carefully, jungle brother. Your mate will find no help with the fae—there is no harm done there, nor assistance. There is something he urgently needs… something that he is distant from. Think about where you met him and what was lost. The solution you seek is with the ancients who have access to it. You need to get back. Now.”

Who the fuck are you to spout your half-formed nonsense… Mao glanced down at the journal, and then up at the now empty log.

Son of a bitch! I should’ve shifted so I could’ve told him what I feel about his constant fucking riddles.

As that was no longer worth doing, Mao carefully picked up the journal, closing his teeth over the twine handle provided, and headed straight for home. If he hurried, he’d only be a few moments late.

What fucking ancients is he talking about? Mao wondered as he ran. The only ancient beings I’ve ever heard of still living are…

By the Fates, is he talking about the krakens?

They were the ones who ordered the destruction of the records. How can they be connected?

Fuck!