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A few days passed in D.C., settling into a routine that became a strange refuge amid the exhaustion. Nate spent hours in front of his father's logbook, filling the pages of a notebook already fraying at the corners while the coffee beside him grew cold. Alice, for her part, handled every step of the inheritance process with that quiet efficiency so natural to her, moving calmly between calls and documents, her phone always within reach.
Fortunately, they both finished around the same time. With the house now in his name, Nate felt the air flow a bit more easily into his lungs. Among other things, he had received the property that once belonged to his maternal grandparents, along with access to accounts that had previously been blocked. It had been a heavy process, full of offices, signatures, and long waits, but Alice managed every detail with that unshakable calm that surrounded her at every step.
That afternoon, warm light filtered through the curtains of the hotel room, casting a soft glow over the folders stacked in a corner. Nate was seated in the chair beside the desk, the logbook open in front of him, reviewing the last pages before carefully closing it. He kept his hand on the cover, allowing his thoughts to settle as he stared at it intently.
Alice, sitting cross-legged on the bed, set her phone aside and watched him silently.
"Were you able to decipher it?" she asked calmly, her golden eyes fixed on him.
Nate sighed, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck, as if dragging the exhaustion across his shoulders.
"I managed to decipher almost all of it," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of relief and fatigue. "It was complicated. My father was really smart... but I understood almost every entry except the last one."
Alice tilted her head slightly, curiosity shining in her gaze.
"The last one... what's different about it?"
Nate narrowed his eyes, searching for the words as he stared at the carpet.
"It's written in a different system. A more complex cipher. I still haven't managed to break it."
Alice was quiet for a few seconds before leaning forward.
"And what do the other entries say?"
Nate took a breath, preparing himself before speaking.
"Each entry corresponds to a person," he explained calmly. "There aren't many, maybe fifteen or twenty, but each one takes up several pages. It details addresses, schedules, physical traits, personality, family history... and above all, many of my father's hypotheses."
Alice furrowed her brow slightly.
"What kind of hypotheses?"
Nate looked at her, a flicker of concern in his gray eyes.
"They aren't clear. My father wasn't sure about what he was writing, but, in simple terms, he thought that some people might have... abilities."
Alice's eyes widened in surprise.
"Abilities like gifts? Like my visions?"
Nate shook his head gently.
"Not exactly. They were more subtle things. Like what you told me about Edward, how even as a human, he had an unusual ability to read people, and when he was turned, that ability was amplified."
Alice absorbed the information, dropping her gaze for a moment as she fiddled with the seam of her pants.
Nate continued, leaning back against the chair.
"This feels... like the prelude to that. My father didn't know if these 'traits' were abilities, but he was investigating people who, according to him, had the potential to develop a 'gift.'"
The room fell silent, the distant hum of traffic filling the space. Alice lifted her gaze again, focused.
"What was he investigating them for?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a calm seriousness.
Nate fell silent, drumming his fingers lightly on the logbook.
"That's what worries me," he admitted. "He doesn't explain it anywhere, not clearly. But it's obvious it was an exhausting job."
He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the carpet.
"The level of detail is overwhelming, Alice. My father had a full-time job, a family, and still dedicated himself to this as if it were his most important mission. Following these people, documenting every step, every interaction... even finding them among hundreds of thousands in a city like this... It's practically impossible."
His hands closed into fists before relaxing.
"And yet, he did it. I don't know how, or why... but he did. The level of skill he had to gather all of this... honestly, it amazes me."
Alice looked at him, her expression softening as the sunset reflected a golden glow across her hair.
"He must have felt a lot of pressure to do all that research," she said quietly, with a note of compassion. "But why?"
Nate flipped through the pages gently, with the care of someone handling something fragile.
"That's what's so frustrating," he murmured. "Everything is meticulously detailed, almost obsessively... but he never explains why."
He ran a hand over his face before continuing.
"Even in the entry he made about me, which is the only incomplete one, he barely wrote down a few traits before crossing them out. Words like 'intuition,' 'understanding,' 'observation'... and then nothing. He left it unfinished."
Alice leaned back, crossing her legs as she studied him carefully.
"That basically describes how you define your own mind," she noted calmly, remembering the times Nate had told her about how easily he connected patterns and read people.
Nate let out a tired smile.
"Yeah," he conceded, "but what bothers me most is that this doesn't seem to have anything to do with vampires or the knife. It's as if all of this is pushing us in a completely different direction."
Alice glanced at the window, where the sky was turning a deep blue.
"I'm worried about the knife," she said, a flash of seriousness in her eyes. "It's strange in many ways. Realistically, a human couldn't use it effectively against a vampire. A vampire could disarm them in a blink."
Nate nodded, placing the logbook carefully on the table.
"I agree," he said thoughtfully. "I only managed to use it through trickery and with the help of other vampires to subdue James. My father... he wasn't strong or skilled in fighting."
He paused for a moment, letting a small, nostalgic smile form.
"He was more of an indoors type," he continued, warmth in his voice. "My mom used to say that while we looked alike, I got the physical build from her side of the family."
Alice smiled softly, her gaze gentle.
"She was right," she said warmly. "I saw the old photos you keep... and it's true, you looked like him, but your father was thin, a bit slight, though with that sharp intelligence in his eyes. You could tell he had a quick mind."
Nate lowered his gaze, feeling a pang of pride in his chest.
"Yeah... and even so, I can't imagine where he got that knife, or why he thought he would need it."
Alice held his gaze before exhaling softly.
"I don't think we can solve this just by thinking about it," she concluded serenely, but firmly.
Nate took a deep breath, the scent of coffee mixing with the heavy air of the room. He closed the logbook with a soft thud, keeping his hand on the cover.
"You're right," he admitted, his voice steady with resolve. "The best thing we can do is to approach the people mentioned in this logbook. Find out who they are, what connects them, and why my father was so determined to investigate them. They're our best lead for now."