My heart aches. She's comparing her father to me. A man she'll likely never meet. A man I suspect is dead somewhere in this rubble.
"He looks like a rather powerful male. Your mom chose wisely." I smile, trying to keep her on the lighthearted side of this find.
My suspicions, combined with all the claw marks and destruction, point to a grim truth: her parents didn't make it out alive.
Which raises the question—how did she survive?
I'll deal with that question later when I can talk to Diaval.
"Hey Feray,let's go hunt for Easton's next meal. If we can get a deer, we can share it with everyone." Khal offers, and I know it's because Diaval needs to tell me something he doesn't want Feray to hear.
"That's a great idea. Tor, do you mind watching Easton while we go hunting?"
Feray reaches over, picks up Easton, and stuffs him inside my flannel shirt. His tiny talons grip the fabric, and he chirps contentedly against my chest.
"Sure. Go take a break. We can search more after you get back and we have lunch."
Feray squeals and kisses my cheek before turning around. Khal has already shifted. She runs to him and climbs up onto his back, riding off into the mountains on the back of a thirty-foot basilisk.
"Well, that went easier than I thought." Diaval steps closer. "Pay attention, Easton. I know you'll be back to your old self sooner than later."
Easton squawks at Diaval.
"Don't be so sassy. It's unbecoming of you."
"Can we get to the point before she gets back?" I'm getting irritated at the constant back and forth between the two ancients.
"Yes. I suspect her parents are the missing alpha and Luna, and that they didn't survive the attack."
Diaval's thought process aligns with mine. I nod.
"You agree?" He arches a brow.
"Yeah. Follow me."
I lead them across what's left of the compound to where the first of the large claw marks are.
"Whatever made these stands as tall as I do when I'm shifted." I splay my fingers and make a mock swipe at the tree. "It has hands with claws, not a paw. The marks are spread apart, not equidistant—which means the digits move independently."
I meet Diaval's eyes.
"It's not a shifter that did this."
I shake my head and move closer to what's left of the house.
Pieces of a ripped-apart door lay on what should have been the front lawn. Flipping the pieces over, the same claw marks appear. Diaval starts up the stairs, and I stop him.
"Let's wait for Feray. If we make a discovery without her, no matter how insignificant, she may get mad at us for not waiting."
I may be a berserker, but I'm not insane. Pissing off your mate and then having to sleep with one eye open isn't high on my list.
"The way the marks look..." Diaval pauses, his expression grim. "I hate to say it, but it's a demon of some sort that made these gouges."
He shifts his hands and uses his claws to mimic what the attacker had done. The distance is almost correct except for the middle finger.
"Do that again. Just stop when your claws touch."
Diaval does as I ask, and then we see it. The middle finger is longer—by a lot—than the other fingers.
