Page 78 of Eat. Prey. Love.
“Ah, that was all Holliday,” Raina answers, pride evident in her voice. She gestures to the quiet armadillo shifter rummaging through his backpack. “He’s good at reading lips; people tend to forget he’s always watching because he’s deaf.”
Dolly’s expression darkens with irritation, a surge of empathy for Holliday flashing across her features. She moves closer to him, signing an apology with swift, graceful movements of her hands. His response is a slow, deliberate mimicry, but his smile is genuine as he praises her growing skill.
My gaze shifts between them, noticing the red hue blossoming on Dolly’s cheeks. Raina reaches out, patting Dolly’s hand reassuringly. “You and your men, you’re different from other preds. You’ve been nothing but kind to us prey.”
“Because my Baby Girl is our beating heart,” Fitz chimes in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “She’s got the kindest soul of anyone I know.” Dolly squirms, clearly battling a wave of embarrassment as a chorus of agreement echoes from our group.
“Flattery aside,” I interject, my instincts prickling with suspicion. “Don’t you think it was too easy getting this tip? It could be a trap.”
Felix shakes his head, confident. “Underground vaults are a staple in places like these. They’re here, and we’ll find them.”
Dolly nods, then bursts into laughter when Felix adds a word of caution. “And don’t touch anything suspect or sound off any ancient alarms, please.” Her laughter increases as he sends a pointed look at Fitz, the notoriously impulsive one of us.
“Who, me?” Fitz responds with feigned innocence, a smirk playing on his lips that betrays his act.
“Especially you,” Felix retorts, and we delve deeper into the search, the air thick with anticipation and the weight of secrets waiting to be unearthed.
Crouched low, I scan the rocky terrain, my cheetah senses on high alert. The scent of salt and pine blends in the air as we approach the base of the craggy mountains where forest meets shore. There’s a whisper of something ancient carried on the breeze, and it prickles at the back of my neck. We’ve been searching for hours, but it’s Dolly who finally spots it—a series of enigmatic carvings etched deep into the stone.
“Over here!” she calls out, her voice tinged with excitement.
All the groups converge on the spot, every step careful and measured in case there are traps along the way. I can’t help but think how much this feels like walking into a trap, but we have to seek the vault on this campus. The clues they all hold will lead us to the truth about the magic users and perhaps prevent a war.
Not to mention they might help us figure out why the hell our girl has that blue lightning.
There it is, almost blending in perfectly with its surroundings— a series of carvings. They’re intricate, weaving around the rocks like ivy. It’s no wonder we missed them from afar. I don’t recognize anything about them; every one of the markings is a mystery to me, even after being in the other vaults.
This is fascinating and I know Aubrey is going to drool over it.
“It’s been added to over the years,” Rufus says, gesturing toward where the series of markings stretch into the distance.
“Never seen anything quite like this,” Cori murmurs.
“Let’s see what Rennie and Aubrey make of it,” I suggest, nodding towards our winged comrades who are pushing through the underbrush to join us.
“Definitely not natural erosion. Too specific,” Aubrey grumbles as he leans in closer. He pushes up his glasses, his expression tinged with a mix of irritation and curiosity. The librarian in him is just as excited as me, but he hates showing it, so he’s defaulting to grumpy.
“Let’s get more pictures before we do anything else,” Renard suggests, his voice always calm, always rational.
Aubrey squints at the inscriptions, his dragon eyes flickering with an inner light, while Renard leans in close, tracing a finger lightly over the grooves. They exchange a look that speaks volumes of their shared history and knowledge.
“Good call,” I say, taking out my phone. The prey pirate crew gathers around as everyone chimes in with their opinions on the markings. Dolly and her friends make up the other flank, examining some of the oldest, deepest ones with puzzled looks. “We have no idea what touching them or trying to read them might trigger.”
“I’ve definitely never seen anything like it,” Dolly admits, while Cori and Rufus nod in agreement. “Not in the vaults, or in anything Lucille had floating around, or even online. They’d make rocking tattoos, though. Look how intricate and delicate they are.”
“Reminds me of tales my mom used to tell—like nursery rhymes for baby raccoons,” Raina muses aloud, her gaze locked onto the carvings. The small raccoon frowns, and I smile as she closes her eyes. I’ve often wondered why she andher mates stay in a half-animal, half-humanoid shift when it would be easier to avoid preds looking like people, but it suits them, so I don’t ask.
Plus, it’d be rude, wouldn’t it?
Her casual remark earns her the group’s attention, and even the Captain tips his hat in agreement, the gesture punctuating his pirate-like drawl. “Aye, lass, seems to tickle a memory in the old noggin.”
Percy, Banjo, Holliday, Kirby, and Bowser shuffle forward for a closer look but then shrug collectively. “Doesn’t ring any bells for us,” Percy admits with a sheepish grin. “We’re more about hammers and nails than dusty old books.”
“They could be an ancient code of some sort,” Cori muses. “The other vaults had weird shit like that, didn’t they?”
“Looks to be a mishmash,” Aubrey finally says, tapping at his DiePhone with growing frustration. “Some kind of pidgin between High Fae script and the vampire’s tongue.” His fingers fly across the screen, but each attempt at translation only deepens the furrow in his brow.
“Can’t decipher it on the spot,” Renard adds, his gravelly voice thoughtful. “Too many variations, some of these marks are centuries older than others.”