“You want me to read your diary?” Ava smiled.
“Not for content, obviously. If the ancients empower you to read the language, it’s almost assured that you’ll pass the other tests.”
“And if they don’t, I’m probably out of luck?”
“The energy in the vault is far more concentrated, so don’t lose hope if this doesn’t work.”
“But if it does, I’ll have one less thing to worry about.”
“Exactly.”
Ava scooted to the edge of the couch and nodded. “I want to try. It would be really nice to know one way or the other.”
Erin took Ava by the hand and led her to the only bedroom on the main level. Though smaller than the rooms upstairs, it was cozy and warm. Erin sat on the edge of the bed then patted the space beside her. “Have a seat. You need to be relaxed and open to their teaching.”
As Ava sat down, Erin reached into the overnight bag beside the bed and pulled out a leather-bound journal. She handed the book to Erin then sat beside her. “Open it across your lap then run your fingertips over the page. If you don’t feel anything at first, close your eyes and empty your mind.”
Each line was written in a flowing script, not as decorative as calligraphy, but more stylized than cursive. “Carissa can read this?” Her uncertainty came rushing back and she sighed.
Erin touched Ava’s forearm, drawing her attention to Erin’s face. “I’m going to tell you something that I never mentioned to Carissa. Sam Collins was a gentle soul. Osric manipulated and used him, but Sam loved Willona with all his heart and she had grown to love him. If Sam had survived, I honestly think Willona wouldn’t have run.”
“What does that have to do with Carissa being able to read the ancient language?”
“You both received potential power from your mother. And though Osric’s basic character is corrupt, his bloodline is old and powerful. Sam’s bloodline, on the other hand, had been diluted and tainted so many times he was barely able to shift.”
Ava stared at Erin, desperately trying to unravel her convoluted comments.
“Carissa told you about Sam, didn’t she?”
“She said Osric convinced Sam to participate in Mother’s definition, but…” Understanding shot through Ava in a sudden jolt. She gasped and pressed a hand over her heart. “The wolf-shifter was Carissa’s father? How is that even possible?”
Erin laughed, the sound soft and infectious. “Cats do it all the time, my dear.”
“Then we’re not really twins. In fact, we’re only half sisters.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to derail your concentration. I only meant to explain that Carissa is the one I wasn’t sure the ancients would accept. You have been infused with power from both your mother and father. I will be shocked if this doesn’t work.”
Pausing to rub her eyes, Ava took a moment to absorb this new information. It didn’t really change anything. She still loved Carissa and always would. But another layer of deception had been peeled off her life. Was anything her mother told her true?
“Maybe we should try this after dinner. I’ve obviously upset you.” Erin reached for the book, but Ava blocked her hand.
“I’m not upset. I’m just adjusting my thinking—again.”
“All right. But remember, if this doesn’t work, it’s not a definitive fail. This is more of a prescreening than one of the official tests.”
Ava smiled. “Each time you prepare me for failure, I’m more convinced you think I can’t do it.”
Erin pressed her lips together, pulled an imaginary zipper across the seam then motioned toward the book.
Import hung in the air like static electricity. If the stories were true, this is what Ava had been born to do, what her ancestors had done for generations. She would not doubt herself or think about Carissa. Or their mother. The past could not be changed. She needed to focus on the future.
Ava closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing all the details while she exhaled. Then with her mind clear and accessible, Ava slowly opened her eyes.
The book rested on Ava’s thighs, black ink contrasting sharply with stark white pages. She ran her fingertips over the first line, her gaze following the motion of her hand. Should she…
Before the speculative thought could fully form, her fingertips began to tingle. Rather than analyze the sensation, she let instinct guide her and pressed her palm against the page. Warm currents flowed up her arm and swirled through her chest. Her heartbeat sped, but her lungs felt heavy.
She pressed her other hand against the opposite page and closed her eyes. Tingles became prickles and warmth turned to heat. She opened her mind and surrendered to the sensations, thrilled by her body’s immediate reaction.