Prologue
Conan looked up at the night sky from the campfire, the waxing moon making his wolf restless. It was only a matter of days before his monthly transformation, but where could he run in the middle of this endless sea of sand?
He needed trees, streams, dirt…
Prey.
And while the desert had its own life, the area where they made their dig was creepily devoid of it all; no cacti, no reptiles, no mice, and not even any bugs.
He knew he could ask for special dispensation to leave for the shift—it was his right, after all, just like it was Ondine’s right to make them haul a giant tub of water around for her so she could sleep in her fins—but he could feel they were close. There was a strange tingle in the air, something that made all his body hair stand up straight. And with Conan’s luck, they’d finally find what they were looking for while he was gone.
The sound of a zipper turned his head, and Professor de Lornis finally emerged from his tent, stretching and yawning. “Good evening, team,” he said, bowing his head in thanks as Jasper’s monkey familiar handed him a thermos of blood. “We’ll be working the same grid assignments as yesterday. If you find anything that doesn’t fit the stratigraphy, flag it and call me over. Any questions?”
When no one said anything, he clapped his hands together. “All right, let’s see what we can get done by sunrise.”
Uriel walked around the perimeter of the site, casting large spheres of light. Digging at night to accommodate their vampire professor and classmates had some disadvantages, but werewolves could see well enough in the dark. Better than seraphim, at any rate, and Conan shooed Uriel away as he got to work on his grid.
The hours flew by as Conan methodically troweled and brushed, sifted and sorted, all while listening to the latestSigilalbum through his headphones and singing quietly to himself.
“You think you can run, you think you can hide. But I’ve tasted your shadow, and you’re mine, you’re mine…”
The unmistakable drop of something heavy in his mesh screen grabbed his attention, and he turned off the music so he could concentrate. He shook the screen carefully until a hunk of shiny, black rock was all that remained.
Picking it up, he examined it under Uriel’s lights in his gloved hands, running over the carved cuneiform symbols that covered one side of its surface. “Hey, Professor?” he called. “I think I got something.”
Professor de Lornis stood up from where he’d been squatting by Jasper, his eyes glowing in the dark.
Conan held out the rock in his hand as he approached, and he took it gingerly. “Black tourmaline,” he said, half to himself. “Used for its protective, warding properties by ancient Magiks. This isn’t really the kind of place it would be formed naturally…”
He gasped when he found the writing on the other side. “Oh, Sanguiel,” he cried.
The other students and assistants had gathered around them, standing on tiptoes to try to get a better look at Conan’s find.
“What square were you in?” the professor asked.
“D7.”
“Everyone, immediately start searching in the squares surrounding D7!” he yelled, and the crowd dispersed.
“That’s Old Lundarian, isn’t it?” Conan asked. “What does it say?”
“Mah lakh zi tuul infuk, fah Niix bi muut.”
Conan tilted his head, waiting for the translation.
“May none break the seal, for the Darkness sleeps below…”
I
RONAN
1
The Feast of Cethelyne
The air was thick with humidity and salt, the pungent stench of rotting fish mixed with sweat burning my nostrils. Pulsing beats and flashing lights were a cacophony of stimuli, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted.
The taste of my drink, some rum cocktail special I’d been nursing for hours, barely registered on my tongue as I observed my target from across the crowded club—a merfolk who had embezzled quite a bit of money from my wealthy seraph client. It would be difficult for him to deny he’d come into some serious cash based on the amount he was dropping on the three cute werewolf omegas that surrounded him, pawing at his chest and begging for drinks. I’d been following him and his little pack all day, from the salon to the spa to the designer stores, where he’d paid for everything they’d wanted and more.
