Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I picked it up and held it with both hands. Dust sat in the grooves of the cover. The leather had gone soft and pale.
I opened it.
The pages were painted in Japanese ink that had browned.
I turned the pages carefully, afraid that pressing too hard would turn history into dust.
The title sat alone on the first page.
The Rites of Burial and Becoming.
Below it, the first line.
To become something powerful, you must first be buried. And if done correctly, you will rise as something unrecognizable.
I read it twice and let the words settle into the space behind my ribs where fear lived. Where the knowledge that I was about to kill my father sat beside the knowledge that doing it would change the shape of me forever.
I turned the pages and found faded watercolor illustrations. A warrior kneeling in dirt. A woman beside him. Moonlight overhead. Flowers surrounding them in rings of red and white.
I kept reading.
We were not chosen for purity. We were chosen for endurance.
And the spirits did not ask if we were good men. They only asked if we could carry what they placed inside us.
More illustrations showed hunters moving through darkness with masks on their faces, animal-shaped shadows above them, and blades drawn.
The demons they pursued were rendered in red ink. And sometimes their bodies were contorted in agony and their mouths opened in screams.
To hunt demons, we wore their faces.
For some reason. . .that sat within my chest, and my mother’s presence rose within the room the way perfume filled a space.
I was finding her, reconnecting with her bloodline, and hoping to God that this could protect my men and me in the next battle.
I turned the page and saw a large sentence painted over several illustrations.
Once the Burial Ritual is complete, the hunter controls the beast.
I leaned my head to the side.
Controls the beast?
My pulse picked up.
I took in the first illustration and shivered.
A massive circular hole had been dug into the earth. Inside it, a warrior lay with a woman. They were naked and their bodies were intertwined together in the slow curve of lovemaking. Her hair spread beneath them in dark waves. His hand cradled the back of her skull.
Lotus blossoms covered them.
And above them, a massive shadowed spider watched.
The artist had rendered it in faded gray ink. Its mouth was open and its eyes were on the lovers.
I looked at the illustration on the other page.
The hunter was now in full battle with a mask over his face and his blade raised in mid-strike against an enemy twice his size.
And his shadowed spider had its fangs in the enemy’s throat. It looked to be weakening the man.
I widened my eyes and looked at the sentence again.
Once the Burial Ritual is complete, the hunter controls the beast.
Then, I stared at the illustrations side by side.
Burial Ritual? Sex in the earth. . .lotus blossoms. . .what else?
A slow shiver hit me.
I need to know more.
My hand tightened on the edge of the book.
I closed my eyes and let the image of the spider-shadow settle behind my lids. Its fangs in the enemy's throat.
Nyomi sees my dragon-shadow. The hairstylist can see Rin’s serpent-shadow. Then. . .it’s all real. . .
I opened my eyes.
And if this is real. . .is there a possibility that Rin and I could use the shadows?
This could all be old mythical bullshit or it could change everything in this war.
Please, God. . .Mom. . .show me. . .I don’t want to bury any more men. . .
I spent the rest of the day reading the book, but nothing touched back on that Burial Ritual. I ended up calling Reo, letting him know about the page, and having him put a team into researching it.
Surely, my Roar thought I was crazy, but he would never question me.
When the light outside my window had begun to turn gold, signifying the beginning of sunset, I stopped reading and searched for my Tiger again, taking the book with me.
She wasn’t in the kitchen.
I checked with my Roar, and he said she was in her office. I headed that way and bumped into a long line of women outside the private theater.
What is happening here?
It must have been at least twenty women walking in the same direction. Their heels clicked. They giggled and chatted with each other as they entered the theater. Behind them, several servants pushed long garment racks draped in black sequined gowns. The fabric shimmered.
I gestured to one of the maids. “What is going on?”
One slowed just enough to meet my eyes. Her smile was small and apologetic. “The Tiger asked us not to respond if anyone asks what is going on.”
I frowned. “I am not just anyone.”
“Yes, sir. You are correct.” She bowed and then continued walking.
I watched her go in shock.
Did she just put the Tiger’s loyalty over mine?