Chapter 211: Inheritance
I focused, trying to pry open the locket, but Blaise’s gloves were too thick and I couldn’t get a proper grip. So, I took them off for another attempt, but that deceptively simple clasp still held firm.
Unfortunately, that didn’t help either. The clasp remained just as before, not even moved just the slightest. It glinted mockingly at me, the shine of the silver catching the light from above whenever I moved even a little bit.
"What is even holding down this thing?" I wondered out loud, holding it up to view it better in the light.
For a fairly simple accessory, the clasp itself seemed much more intricate than the rest of the locket. When I squinted, I noticed a small shape right at the center. Yet, it wasn’t a traditional keyhole of any type, that was for sure.
Looking into the urn, I tried to shake it to see if I had missed out anything when I had emptied its contents. Unfortunately, whatever was left of the urn were just some dusty ashes that clung to the side of the inner walls of the urn; nothing of value when it came to unlocking this mysterious locket.
There was a keyhole of some sort, which meant that a key was needed to open this. However, what was the key and where it could be found remained a mystery. For all I knew, it could still be in the mansion that sat right outside of Fangborne’s borders. Damon definitely would not be agreeable to bring me there again, especially after what happened with Everhaven.
Blaise might be easier to convince, but after the series of events that had just happened, I felt guilty asking him to thrust himself back into the heat of danger once more for me.
Just as I was wondering what to do with the locket, the door to the room opened, causing me to jump in surprise. Instinctively, I shoved the locket into my pocket, turning around just in time to see a mop of black hair.
"Damon," I breathed out, trying to ease my thundering heart. "What are you doing here?"
I had thought it would be Blaise, since this was his room. Yet, the scar across Damon’s face and the pair of bright blue eyes all too clearly guaranteed that it was the older twin brother who stood before me, not the owner of the room.
"Why can’t I be?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow as he scoffed. "This entire building is mine. Blaise owns the other pack house."
My lower eyelids twitched, the urge to roll my eyes increasing as Damon shut the door behind him and fully entered the room. Sure, this pack and the packhouse both belonged to him, but he should have still respected Blaise and my privacy.
"I could have been changing," I scolded with a scowl.
"You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before," Damon retorted easily, his eyes roving all over my body in a way that made me feel exposed even when I was fully clothed.
I flushed, half in embarrassment and anger.
"What are you doing here anyway?" I asked. "Blaise isn’t here."
He ignored my question entirely, his eyes catching sight of the opened silver urn that sat innocently on the marble countertop.
A frown grew on his face and he pointed to the urn. "This looks awfully familiar."
Of course Damon would recognize a silver urn he had only seen once. "You know what it is. It’s an urn."
Damon’s eyebrow twitched, not appreciating my sass. "Yes, I can see that. How could I forget that you stole it from a highly suspicious house that you visited with an equally reprehensible blood sucker? A place which, might I remind you, you shouldn’t have been at."
I merely wrinkled my nose at his pointed look. He scoffed and continued to speak.
"What is it doing here next to the sink, and not in a columbarium where it belongs? Or better yet, thrown back into the vampiric nest or a random ditch in the forest, lest it hurt somebody?"
"I was trying to open it," I said, grumbling, internally wondering if I should let him know about the locket I found. Damon did make me promise to only go to him regarding this issue, and not Blaise.
"You found something, didn’t you," Damon said. It wasn’t even a question.
"Nothing too special or interesting for you," I said with a shrug. "Turns out it most likely contained my mother’s ashes."
"Contained?" Damon echoed, raising an eyebrow at the curious choice of tenses.
"Well..." I trailed off, then gestured to the lunchbox that now carried my mother’s remains. If there was a heaven, I could only pray that my mother would excuse this lack of filial piety.
Damon’s line of sight swiveled along to the general direction I gestured at. When he noticed my finger pointing at Blaise’s sacrificial lunchbox, he snorted in disbelief.
"You put your own mother in Blaise’s old lunch box? He doesn’t even wash those properly― I hope your mother likes the smell of raw meat," Damon said, wrinkling his nose as he recalled his brother’s poor housekeeping skills. "I thought you hated your father, not her."
"I did!" I cried out, instantly finding the need to be defensive. "That’s why I had no other choice. I can’t just chuck her out on the floor!"
"Then leave her in the urn!" Damon said. "Why in the Goddess’s name do you need to remove the poor woman from her final resting place?"
"I―" I caught myself just in time, biting down on my bottom lip to prevent myself from spilling more than I should.
The locket weighed heavily in my pocket, and once again I found myself caught in a dilemma. Ultimately, I decided to share my findings. If Damon found out I kept something else from him — other than Luna Cassidy’s prophecy — I would have another earful from him again, and that would be the least of my worries.
I sighed, then dug my hand into my pocket to withdraw the necklace that I had haphazardly chucked in there when Damon entered the room. The silver tinkled lightly when I pulled it out, and as though Damon knew with one look what material it was made of, he took a subtle step back.
"Like a true hunter," he murmured under his breath.
My eyes widened in surprise. "What?" I asked. "What... makes you say that?"
Did Damon have concrete news that solidified my mother’s part with the hunters?
At least it seemed that way; all the clues that we had picked up on the way pointed right there. It had to be the reason why my mother and father had a doomed relationship. After all, it was one thing to have a human mate and another to have one who had the life mission of ending her spouse.
If that was the case, perhaps I could at least understand why my father had to go to such extremes as to end my mother’s life. He would’ve no doubt felt betrayal if she hadn’t been clean with him regarding her background right from the start. It was no excuse to do what he did, but at least he seemed less of a monster that way.
Regardless, my parents’ relationship was a mystery that had long expired in the past. While it intrigued me, I didn’t have a dying need to find out more.
"Everything is in silver," Damon said with a shrug. "Only the hunters have such a fervent love for this particular metal. I wouldn’t even be surprised if it’s tradition to be buried with silver to prevent themselves from being born as a werewolf in the next life, and all that."
"Superstition," I said pointedly, then shook my head. "Regardless, there’s a lock on this thing. I can’t seem to open it."
"The locket didn’t come with a key?" Damon asked.
He stepped forward, peering at the necklace as I held it up so that he could have a better look at it without having to touch it. While Damon didn’t react as badly to silver as ordinary pack members like Kyle did, it definitely wouldn’t be pleasant to touch it still.
"None,"’ I said. "I checked the urn again, but it’s empty."
Hearing this, Damon frowned.
"So that’s why you had that look on your face when I walked in," he said.
"What look?"
"Like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar," he said. "Or that you have a horrible idea stirring up in your mind and you want to carry it out, but your rationality — Goddess bless you still have it on occasion — is stopping you from doing it immediately."
I scowled. "I don’t have such a look."
"Face it, Harper," Damon said, folding his arms across your chest. "I can feel the sheepish guilt seeping through the bond as clearly as every other emotion."
He gave a pointed look, and instantly, I thought back to the intense lovemaking session I had shared with Blaise. My cheeks flared instantly.
"The key might be in the mansion," I mumbled, trying to steer the conversation away by pretending I did not understand what he just tried to imply.
"And you wish to retrieve it?" he asked.
I hesitantly met his eyes. "Can I?"
