Chapter 38
Vera’s second postcard came from New Mexico.
This one contained more than two words.
FOUND ANOTHER ARCHIVE.
NOT CIRCLE.
OLDER.
Sofia read it twice.
Elena read it three times.
Jake asked, “Older than what?”
Sofia looked at him.
“That is the problem with Vera. She believes punctuation is a limited resource.”
On the back was a symbol.
Not the Ash Circle.
Not Warden.
A pair of overlapping paw prints inside a square.
Noah did not recognize it.
Neither did Elena.
Sofia did.
Her face lost color.
“Where have you seen it?” Jake asked.
She turned the postcard over.
“Mara’s things.”
Noah sat forward.
“What things?”
Sofia looked at him.
“The box I told you was recipes.”
Noah stared.
“You lied about Grandma’s recipe box?”
“There are recipes.”
“For what?”
Sofia considered.
“One soup.”
Jake laughed.
Noah did not.
“Sofia.”
She sighed.
“Mara knew there were other wolf families. Older networks. People who hid from the Circle by hiding from everyone.”
Jake thought of Caleb’s family forgetting itself.
“Packs?”
“Not exactly.”
Sofia tapped the symbol.
“Refuges.”
That word felt different.
Not armies.
Not bloodline registries.
Places.
Safe ones.
Noah looked at Jake.
Jake already knew what he was thinking.
Maybe the world had more doors than the one beneath West Ridge.
Maybe it also had more homes.
***
Mara’s recipe box contained one soup recipe.
Sofia had not lied about that.
It also contained twelve maps, four photographs, seventeen names, three protection patterns, and a handwritten note labeled PEOPLE WHO WILL DENY KNOWING ME.
Jake loved Mara immediately.
Noah sat cross-legged on Sofia’s floor.
“Why didn’t you show us this?”
Sofia looked genuinely embarrassed.
“I forgot what was in it.”
Elena stared.
“You forgot?”
“There was a lot happening.”
Jake picked up one map.
Missouri.
Small marks appeared near Springfield, St. Joseph, the Ozarks, and close to the Arkansas line.
One had been crossed out.
Another had the overlapping-paws symbol.
Noah touched it.
“Refuge?”
Sofia nodded.
“Maybe.”
A photograph showed Mara with six people Jake did not know.
On the back: WE KEEP EACH OTHER.
Noah read it aloud.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Jake thought about the phone call from Arkansas.
Caleb.
Claire.
All the people whose families had hidden so well they had forgotten what they were.
“Maybe that’s what comes next,” he said.
Noah looked at him.
“What?”
“Not hunting wolves.”
Jake tapped the photograph.
“Finding people who want to be found.”
Sofia smiled.
“That sounds considerably less terrible than most Warden ideas.”
“High praise.”
***
Jake and Noah did not promise forever.
They talked about it anyway.
It happened in October while doing laundry.
Romance had become glamorous.
Noah sat on a dryer.
Jake folded shirts.
“Do you think mates stay together forever?” Noah asked.
Jake looked up.
“Dangerous question.”
“I’m serious.”
Jake folded another shirt.
“Some probably do.”
“And some don’t.”
“Probably.”
Noah nodded.
The dryer turned behind him.
Jake set the shirt down.
“Are you asking if I’m planning to break up with you?”
“No.”
“Are you planning to break up with me?”
“No.”
“Great conversation.”
Noah smiled.
Then became serious again.
“I just don’t want us to wake up at thirty and realize we stayed because wolves told us to.”
Jake understood.
He stepped between Noah’s knees.
“Then at thirty, ask me again.”
“And if you say no?”
“Then I’ll be devastated and incredibly dramatic.”
Noah laughed.
Jake touched his cheek.
“But you’ll be allowed.”
Noah leaned into his hand.
“And if I ask at forty?”
“Same.”
“Eighty?”
Jake smiled.
“At eighty I’m using the naked-in-the-woods story against you constantly.”
Noah groaned.
“There it is.”
“Forever is too long to waste good material.”
Noah kissed him.
The dryer buzzed.
Neither moved.
Eventually Jake said, “Our sheets are done.”
Noah kissed him again.
“They can wait.”
***
Jake received his first call meant specifically for a Warden in November.
Not from Sofia.
Not Vera.
A stranger.
“Is this Jake Miller?”
Jake looked at the unknown number.
“Who is this?”
“My name is David. Vera Bennett gave me your number.”
Jake closed his eyes.
Of course she had.
“What happened?”
The man hesitated.
“My daughter says the mirror in her bedroom remembers things.”
Jake looked across the dorm room at Noah.
Noah mouthed, What?
Jake put the call on speaker.
David continued.
“She says when she touches it, she sees the woman who lived in the house before us.”
Noah’s eyebrows rose.
Jake asked, “How old is your daughter?”
“Twenty-two.”
Good.
“Has anything tried to hurt her?”
“No.”
“Has the mirror asked her to do anything?”
“No.”
Jake relaxed slightly.
“Then don’t break it.”
David sounded surprised.
“What?”
“Don’t burn it, smash it, bury it, salt it, or call anybody who introduces themselves as a hunter.”
Noah covered his mouth.
Jake continued.
“Cover it for tonight. I’ll call someone who knows more about object memory.”
After he hung up, Noah stared.
“Someone who knows more?”
Jake picked up his notebook.
“Leave room to be wrong.”
Noah smiled.
“Look at you.”
“Don’t.”
“Responsible.”
“Stop.”
“Mature.”
Jake threw a pillow at him.