Strange Path: Book 1 of the Sanguire by D. Jordan Redhawk

Author:D. Jordan Redhawk [Redhawk, D Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Lesbian, Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781594932755
Google: r3WyXwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1594932751
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2012-03-13T03:10:48+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

They spent the next two hours going over the chant. The farther Whiskey went through the process, the more the slim volume loomed sinister in her mind. What used to be a simple book now became the Book. Had she been raised Sanguire, she supposed she’d have assumed the veneration that Dorst and Castillo gave the item. Her lack of cultural experience didn’t change her growing physical aversion. She sensed it inside her backpack, beating in sync with her heart, a sensation of blood coursing beneath the surface of the leather cover. The more she handled it, the more alive it felt, somehow attuned to her body rhythms.

Do all Sanguire feel this way, or is it just me? Can Reynhard feel the Book as easily as he feels me? She shivered, and pulled her focus away from the thing. More than enough other things to worry about.

She’d left Dorst’s apartment with strict instructions not to conduct the third meditation until the next day. He’d also given her a key to his door, advising her to return whenever she wished. She walked down the street in a light daze, hardly seeing the people and vehicles around her.

Dorst had answered her immediate questions, but she still had a hundred more. It unnerved her that he took the strange developments with such aplomb. He seemed pleased with the situation. After searching for four hundred years, having the end in sight had to be a relief. His endorsement of her strange visions and newfound memories didn’t ease her discomfort. He’s got to be wrong. What happens when he figures that out? Hell, when I figure that out?

She yearned to talk over this mess with someone she knew, to vent or get a second opinion. As much as she trusted Dorst, he had an utter devotion to his Ninsumgal, a requirement to have kept looking for so long. Not even Margaurethe O’Toole had searched with such diligence. Whiskey experienced that same worn yearning she’d held her entire life, finally connecting it to its origins. The idea that she had spent the majority of her adolescence pining over a woman she hadn’t known existed frightened her. She shoved those thoughts away. It would have been so cool to talk to the padre about this. Regret and annoyance washed over her. Damn him. The sky began to darken. She looked up to see cloud cover. Maybe tomorrow would be overcast. She certainly hoped so. The days of sunshine hadn’t helped her mood, or the transition.

With nightfall coming and no place in particular to be, her feet automatically took her to Tallulah’s. Cora’s text message had been somewhat agitated; going to Malice was out of the question. Probably for a very long time. Too bad. Whiskey had liked the music there. The illicitness of being underaged in an adult bar hadn’t hurt, either. She chuckled to herself as Tallulah’s came into view.

Being a Tuesday night, local high school students didn’t spend much time here. Slipping past the pool tables to the back, Whiskey nodded to some kids she recognized.

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