Page 221 of Caged
His eyes flick to the weapon. I have to admit, I’m having a hard time looking away from it, too. It’s strangely beautiful. Plain in design, but so perfect it feels like it shouldn’t exist on this plane of existence.
“I initially just wanted to see it because the bone looked odd,” Dax admits.
Gav nods, turning it over in his hands. “It’s too neat. Too white to be real bone,” he murmurs. “The grain is too fine. Look here.”
He angles the hilt between us. “It looks like it was worked, but… not. It’s too dense. It’s definitely not human. Not vampire or wolven, either. And it’s…”
He hesitates, frowning.
I groan. “Just say it. But I’m telling you right now, if it’s cursed and needs to be thrown into the fires of Mordor, I’m requesting hazard pay.”
Gav smirks. “I don’t think it’s cursed, so no need to grab your walking staff just yet, Frodo. It is, however… glowing. Like the blood Caelan found.”
“No,” I laugh, but it sounds wrong. Frantic. “No, that’s— no way.”
Dax takes it, lifting it up to the lights. Sure enough, now that I know what I’m looking for, I see it clear as day. It shimmers, like it’s been mixed with Mother of Pearl.
Except it hasn’t, because the glow is coming from the inside.
My packmate and I share a long look. Dax sets it back down, but he also looks like he has to make himself let it go.
Gav raises a brow. “So, whose was it?”
“Well. That’s the other weird thing.”
“There’s another weird thing?” I throw my arms up in exasperation. “Of fucking course there is. It’s only been four hours since the last weird thing.”
Dax ignores me.
“There’s no record of that dagger belonging to anyone. Not a Bastard, not a trainee, not even a staff member. Not digital, and not in the Archives that haven’t been uploaded into the database yet.”
He flips open the journal and sets it between the three of us. “I did find this. The Omega said it was in the same satchel as the dagger. Belonged to a trainee we lost about a hundred-and-thirty years ago during a mission to the Black Hills region of South Dakota. I barely remember it. Had to go back in the old logs to look it up.”
“There was a lot of weird shit happening in that area of the US back then,” Gav replies thoughtfully. “It was so wild. Unpopulated. The perfect breeding ground for rogue vampires and Severed Nests.”
“That’s exactly what they were doing,” Dax confirms. “We sent them out after a group of rogue vampires from one of the minor Old Houses. The specifics don’t really matter.” He waves them away.
“What matters is, this guy—Benedict—never came back. We deployed three males, and only two returned.”
He picks up his whiskey and rolls the glass slowly between his palms.
“They were gone for a few weeks, tops. When they returned, it was with news that they lost their third. He disappeared one night when they were making camp. They spent three days looking for him before making the call to fall back. Never found his body, or anything he had on him.”
“I remember him,” Gav says, his tone solemn. “No major blood ties to anyone. Just a Freeblood, who wanted to be a warrior. He was quiet. Didn’t cause any issues. But that’s all I remember.”
I’ve got to admit, I’m shocked he remembers even that much. I was here that whole time and can’t even remember the mission, let alone this Benedict guy. I feel a little shitty, but after centuries, unless it ended in explosions, the death of someone close to me, or catastrophic fuck-ups, chances are I’ve deleted it to make space.
“Well, he never made it back, but apparently,” Dax nods to the journal and dagger, “his shit did.”
I grab the journal, flipping through it. “You’re telling me this is his? Stuff he had when he went missing?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“How do you know it belonged to him?”
“Because his fucking name is written on the first page,” Dax replies, flatly.
“Well, that’s comforting,” I grunt. “Dead guy’s body disappears, but his weapon and diary make the trip back, randomly resurfacing over a century later. Fantastic.”
