The laptop hummed and beeped, various lights glowing orange then green. The computer quieted into a gentle hum, but the screen remained black, not even a cursor to break the emptiness.

Zander knocked on it. “You sure this thing’s on?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Rae peered at the screen, tapped keys, and then deflated. “Maybe it’s broken.”

Zander touched the keyboard, brushing her fingers. “Maybe you have to know the ultra-secret, secret password.”

“Which I don’t.” Rae looked around the desk, which was as blank as the laptop. “I don’t think Daragh wrote it on a sticky note.”

Zander didn’t move his fingers from Rae’s. He said quietly, “From what I heard, when Daragh was killed and the sword stolen, it was so some hacker chick could get herself into the Guardian Network. So, what does the sword have to do with it?”

Rae had no clue. She slid her hands out from under Zander’s, picked up the sword, and withdrew the top part of the blade from the sheath. Runes crossed the hilt and ran down into the blade, curving around the crosspiece. Even in the darkness, the silver shone, the runes etched into it like black threads. The top of the hilt held a medallion that resembled the ones on their Collars, the Celtic knot.

Daragh had known what the runes said but he’d never talked about them. Rae ran her fingers along the broken blade, tracing the strange letters she couldn’t read.

Zander lifted the sheath and turned it upside down so the bottom half of the sword fell out. He caught the blade without cutting himself and laid it in front of the laptop.

“Put the top part here.” He tapped the table.

Rae carefully laid the top half of the sword in line with the bottom, then she and Zander pushed the pieces together. As had happened on Miles’s boat, the jagged cut fit like two pieces of a puzzle but the sword remained broken.

Two runes, one above the other, reached across the cut, the break having sliced them exactly in half. Rae had no idea what that meant, if anything.

Zander leaned to study the sword, his head close to Rae’s breasts. His warmth and scent soothed her but she resisted reaching to stroke his hair.

“Press the A key then the R,” he rumbled. He pointed at the two broken runes before she could ask why.

“You can read that?” Rae asked in surprise.

“Vikings were all over the Shetlands back in the day, and they left stuff. Archeologists are always deciphering runes—I hung around the digs when I was a cub and learned what they did. My Shifter ancestors were Vikings if you didn’t guess.”

With his white hair and giant build, Zander did look very Norse. “All right.” Rae moved her fingers to the keyboard and typed AR.

They appeared on the screen as runes, identical to those on the sword. Rae pressed the return key.

When nothing happened, Zander said, “Try the other way around.”

RA. Still nothing happened. “A password isn’t going to be only two letters,” Rae pointed out. “Not for something so protected.”

Her words were drowned out by an intense humming coming from the sword. The thing had been silent since it had helped them out of the whirlpool, but now it vibrated and sang. The humming should have rattled the blade on the desk but the sword was a magical thing, not emitting true sound, so the desk was oblivious to its vibrations.

The runes Rae typed grew and spread across the screen until white pixels swallowed everything black. The white grew fuzzy, like a static snowfield, and then the static parted to reveal the image of a man.

He was a Shifter, a Feline by the look of him. He had a Collar around his neck, very dark hair, and intense blue eyes. Rae stared at the screen, wondering if she’d somehow messaged someone, then when the man didn’t move, she realized this must be a recording.

“Greetings,” the man said, his voice rich with an Irish accent. “You have entered as a new user. Please type in your 11-digit password.”

“What?” Rae said back. “What password?”

Rae frantically opened the drawers of the desk, looking for any scrap of paper, and finding them empty. Zander was watching the screen with narrowed eyes. “No one gave her a password,” he growled. “They barely acknowledge she’s Guardian.”

The man only blinked and waited. “He can’t hear you,” Rae said. “I bet it’s a failsafe.”

The man blinked again, then he said, “In that case, enter a new password. Anything you want. Probably should make it a little cryptic.”

He waited. Rae peered at him, but he still seemed to be a recording, programmed to make certain responses.

What the heck? She keyed in 483Zander&2.

The man on the other side studied the screen, slid his gaze sideways to Zander, then said, “Sure, that will work. Welcome, Guardian, to the Guardian Network. What do you want to know?”

“Sean,” Zander said clearly. “Cut the crap. What are you doing?”

The corners of Sean’s eyes crinkled but he didn’t smile. “Waiting for Rae to finally log onto the database. I got bored.”

Rae started, then her face heated. “You should have said you weren’t a recording.” How embarrassing. “What do you mean waiting for me to finally log on? How long have you been sitting there?”

Sean shrugged. “Oh, off and on since you were Chosen.” His attention moved to something else in the room. “There’s my lad.” He opened his arms and a small boy trotted to him. Sean scooped him up. “Kenny, this is Rae and Zander. You met Zander before, remember?”

Kenny raised a hand in childlike greeting but didn’t smile. He had gray eyes, wolf’s eyes, assessing and watchful.

Rae leaned forward, her voice softening. “Hi, Kenny. You sure are cute.”

Kenny gazed at her a moment then his small face blossomed into a smile. He reached out and touched the screen. Sean let him then pulled Kenny back into his lap. “He’s a handful, I don’t mind saying. What took you so long to get here?”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Zander said. “And no one has let her near the Guardian Network.”

Sean gave one shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Rae. The Guardians themselves are divided about you. I, for one, believe the Goddess truly Chose you. You know she did.”

Rae had no doubt, since she’d been vibrating with the Goddess’s choice since that fateful day.