Page 78 of Lone Wolf

“But who is he?”

I stared into the eyes of my ancestor, feeling something click into place. I needed to get the medallion back. It was far more important than whatever I would find here.

“There’s some books here,” Adam pointed out. “Maybe there’s a name.”

I blinked rapidly, the spell breaking once I heard his voice. “Good thinking.”

While Adam and Charlotte explored the little books on the table nearby, I stepped through a doorway into what used to be a lush library. Tattered books lined the bottom shelves. The ones higher up suffered too much water damage. I perused the ancient desk, finding nothing more than scraps of papers, documents and empty envelopes.

One of the letter openers caught my eye. It was two snakes swirling around the handle of the blade with red jewels for eyes.

I frowned. “Rose, look.”

“That’s weird,” she said while touching it. “It’s like a—”

“That’s the Domingo crest,” Charlotte said. “I would recognize that shit anywhere. Domingo wears it all the time.”

Adam stepped into the library with a book in his hands. “I could only find one name.”

I handed Rose the letter opener and accepted the book from Adam. The faded handwriting wasn’t illegible. Just unbelievable. And it only made me more confused than ever.

Rose touched my shoulder. “Matty, what is it?”

“It says…”

Adam looked confused. Charlotte, too. Who could blame them?”

My hands shook, blurring the name on the page. “It says Arnaud Beauchamp.”

Rose squeezed my shoulder. “That was the name your mother said.”

“That was…” I slapped the book shut. “This doesn’t solve a damn thing. Why would my father leave me this dump? Who was Arnaud? Why was my mother looking for him?”

“Maybe she knew about this place and wanted answers.”

I shrugged Rose off. “It doesn’t make any sense. She went to the fae. She asked questions.” My eyes widened as I turned to Rose. “Do you think that’s what got her killed?”

“Matty, it could be anything.”

“This isn’t right. We have to go. I need to get the medallion.”

Charlotte frowned. “What do you need the medallion for?”

“I have no idea. I just feel the need to protect it.”

I passed through the hallway, pausing to glance up at the man in the painting. My spitting image. My ancestor.

But who the hell was he?

And why was he wearing a fae-created medallion?

Leaves crunched underfoot as I marched back into the foyer. My feet seemed to carry me onward, pacing, carving paths into a den, a kitchen, and what might have been a lovely reading room were it not for the bees living under the floorboards.

It was like walking through a time machine. More paintings guarded the walls. Many of them were my ancestor posing with various items—Spanish stallion horses, shiny metal knights, gorgeous women, riches. Whatdidn’tthis guy have?

Other than his life, of course.

“Matty,” Rose whispered while trotting after me. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

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