I read the first one. It was about a Vaktare with red fur who would be born with all abilities and talents. She would be called Unduyee, which meant Red Warrior. The Unduyee would restore peace between the Vaktare and the Locanis.

I glided over the other legends, including one about a demon spawn that was half Vaktare and half Locanis. It seemed many Vaktare and Locanis indulged in sexual relations over the centuries, but they could never conceive. I didn’t delve into the details. It was getting late and I needed to read the material that actually happened in Hiraken.

After reading about several wars, I came to a part that mentioned my father’s name. It made me wonder who the author of the history book was.

“Show me the title page,” I said, feeling weird talking to the podium. Pages immediately flipped back to the beginning. When they stopped, I leaned over, reading:

A History of Hiraken and its People

The Vaktare and Locanis

By:

Fisher and Lenora Cavanaugh

“My parents wrote this.” For some reason knowing they were responsible for the words on the pages made the histories all the more interesting. It also saddened me. I needed to find them. It bothered me that they’d left just as my life was turned upside down. Though they hadn’t shown me emotion, they’d done lots to prove they cared for me. I couldn’t believe they’d abandoned me when I needed them most.

Around two in the morning, when I was almost at the end, I found a very interesting piece of information about my parents:

Fisher Cavanaugh was next in line to rule Hiraken. When war broke out between the Vaktare and the Locanis, all of the Cavanaughs were believed killed except Fisher, his mate Lenora and their child, Beatrice.

“That’s me,” I whispered, feeling tingles run the length and breadth of my body. Seeing my name in the histories of my people made me more anxious to know everything.

Near the beginning of the book they’d mentioned that all Vaktare were born with a magical skill. I flipped back to read that part again. There were hundreds of abilities. Sometimes an ability was passed down from one generation to the next, but more often than not, the gift was random.

“Do I have an ability?” I pondered aloud. I didn’t think so.

I went back to the part about my mom and dad.

After going to their medicine woman, Fisher and Lenora raced up the Wananoag mountains behind their castle, toward the place where they were told they could jump realms. The medicine woman gave Fisher a pendant and instructions on how to use it to open the portal. They almost didn’t make it.

Several of the strongest and vilest of the Locanis chased them. The worst Locanis went by the name Adam.

“What’s up with all the ‘Adam’s?” I whispered, thinking about my Adam and checking my phone to see if by chance he’d texted. He hadn’t.

I read on:

Lenora used her gift with the elements to create a storm while Fisher spoke the incantation to open the portal. After Adam and Fisher fought, Fisher was able to jump realms at the last second. Beatrice was born soon after.

After reaching the new realm, Fisher discovered Adam had stolen the pendant. If Adam can find a way to use it, the remaining Cavanaughs may be in danger.

There were words scrawled in pencil down the right side of the book:

There are other Vaktare who’ve survived. They’ve come to some kind of truce with the Locanis. I killed a Vaktare last night in the mountain behind our house after questioning him. He wouldn’t tell me what they wanted or why they were trying to kill us. But they’ve found us. And worse than that, I believe the Locanis who goes by the name Adam has discovered a way to use the pendant and is closing in.

The date above the words written in the margin was three days ago. I read the words again, a feeling of dread climbing into my stomach. Adam was a common name. And my Adam couldn’t be the Locanis my dad spoke of. If he were, he’d had plenty of opportunities to kill me over the past several days. He could’ve just let me fall at the shopping center. Or smothered me in my sleep. I remembered the way he brushed my hair, the sparkle in his eyes when we spoke about the weirdness in my life.

That would explain why he took your story so well though.

“No.” I went over to the cot and lay down. Memories of his kiss filled my mind and warmed my body. “That wasn’t the kiss of a man sent to commit murder.”

I punched the pillow, determined to convince my brain of what my heart already knew. Adam cared about me. He wouldn’t do anything to harm me. He wouldn’t.

Hours later there was a click and I heard the door to the Museum for the Supernatural open. “What the hell happened in here?”

I was lying on the floor. A quick glance at my body told me I was naked. “Don’t come in,” I shouted, grabbing a blanket off the cot.

“Beatrice?” It was Professor Pops. “Are you all right?” I heard the worry in his words.

“Um, yes.” I wrapped the blanket around myself and glanced around the room. It’d been dark and I’d been preoccupied when I climbed onto the cot last night. Now it was easy to see it had been a weapons room. Every sword, ever kind of weapon with a sharp point had been embedded in the walls or the ceiling. My pillow had been slashed to bits and the cot was bent at a funny angle. I glanced down at my hands. Had I done that?

“Cole, get a broom, a dustpan, and a very large trashcan. Have Troy help, if you need it. Hurry”

“Right away, Pops.”

The door clicked.

“Professor Pops?” I moved so that I could see into the Museum. The room was a wreck. Broken glass was everywhere. The dragon’s head had been ripped off and the body lay on its side. The troll was missing his limbs. The Hunter had been torn in half. The werewolf had fared worst of all. His eyes had been removed, his head ripped off, and his body was in pieces. Fur was strewn everywhere. Professor Pops bent over and carefully lifted something in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d wrecked the place. “I don’t remember doing this, but it had to be me.” I tilted a unicorn upright and picked up its horn, trying to put it back in the place where I’d ripped it off. It wouldn’t stay so I set it on a shelf still upright.

Professor Pops took a white creature that reminded me of a fairy and placed it carefully on a table. Thankfully, it still had its head and all of its limbs. The way Professor Pops cradled the creature, it obviously meant a great deal to him.

“Whatever it costs, I’ll gladly pay to replace everything.”

Professor Pops smiled sadly. “Beatrice, no amount of money can replenish this.”

I hung my head, a sob ripping through my throat. I’d never felt so horrible in all my life. “I know,” I whispered.

He walked over and patted my shoulder. “If anyone is to blame for this mess, it’s me. I left you down here.”

I glanced up at him. “Perhaps, but I promise to do whatever it takes to make sure your museum is filled with supernatural creatures once again.”

“Oh, my dear, how do you intend to do that? I certainly don’t want the creatures murdered. Do you?” He picked up the dragon body in one hand and its head in the other. It was then that I realized Professor Pops wasn’t just a human. I should have known. He didn’t really even have a scent, other than peppermint.

“No. No way.” I hadn’t really thought about how I would accomplish the task. “So, what kind of supernatural are you?”

His eyes flashed red. “A Hunter,” he said, cautiously.

I took a step back. “You’re a vampire?”

“More or less.” His eyes went back to their normal color.

“Wow. That’s . . .”

“Creepy? Scary?” Professor Pops chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”