Home > A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2)

A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2)
Author: Sawyer Bennett

 

CHAPTER 1

 


Finley


I’m numb, and I can feel myself sliding further into some sort of protective oblivion. Carrick and Zaid talk quietly across the room, but about what, I’m not sure. I’m too fragmented to use my hearing ability. Frankly, I’m not sure I want to know what they’re saying. Glancing down at the two fingers of bourbon Zaid pressed into my hand, I take a sip and note that I don’t even feel a burn as it slides down my throat.

I think I might be broken.

Because no more than half an hour ago, at my twenty-eighth birthday party, I watched my twin sister, Fallon, die right before my eyes.

If that sounds dramatic, it’s not. One moment, she was my occasionally frustrating, annoying, and overbearing sister whom I loved more than anything in the world, and the next moment, she was gone. In her place was a Dark Fae drenched in evil.

My sister was dead.

Of course, maybe not.

Perhaps Carrick and Zaid know what the hell is going on, and there’s some form of magic that can turn her back. The thought makes a tiny kernel of hope flare within my chest, but as I focus on their expressions—so grim and worried—it fizzles into nothing.

A lone tear falls from my eye, sliding down my cheek. I don’t bother to wipe it away. It’s too much effort.

I haven’t reached the point of breaking down into full-out sobbing—probably because I’m still too numb. Perhaps I’m in denial. I have a feeling when it finally comes, it’s not going to be pretty. If it happens while sitting here in Carrick’s condo, they have plenty of tissues ready, I’m sure.

After Fallon morphed before our eyes, Carrick ushered me out of the home my sister shares with her fiancé, Blain, and into a waiting car down the street. The entire ride, I curled into myself, bending at the waist with arms folded tightly around my stomach. I just rocked back and forth as we made a beeline for Carrick’s place.

Carrick was quiet and didn’t attempt to touch me. When we arrived at The Prestige, he put an arm around my waist as I stepped free of the car and kept it there the entire ride up to his penthouse. He didn’t do this out of affection, but rather because I’d almost fallen a few times on the way out of Fallon’s condo. I guess one’s legs turn to jelly when they watch their sister turn into a Dark Fae, but that’s only supposition on my part. Never had it happen to me before.

On the elevator ride up, Carrick even pulled me into his side so I’d lean against him and I couldn’t even be appreciative. I just wanted to sink to the floor in the froth of shimmery gold material that was my evening gown and be left alone.

Zaid was waiting for us as the elevators opened, and Carrick handed me off to him. It was the first time Zaid—a daemon who was neither obviously light nor dark—had ever actually touched me, but again, it was merely to hold me up. As he moved me toward a nearby couch, I glanced back to see Carrick doing something at the elevator doors. He was holding his arms up, palms out, and his lips were moving, but I couldn’t understand his mumblings.

Zaid deposited me rather gently on the couch where I merely slumped back into the cushions. I noticed that one of my strappy, sandaled heels was gone, and I have no clue where I lost it. To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was limping along without it. Moments later, Zaid thrust the bourbon in my hand with a harsh, “Drink this,” and went to join Carrick near the elevator doors.

There’s nothing to do but go over every horrid detail of the night. I recall that moment when I got hit with a bolt of dark malevolence, causing my intestines to feel like they were being jerked out. My twin, Fallon, doubled over as I had, clearly in the same pain. I knew it had to be related.

Watching her face flicker, disappear, and turn into a horrifying yet beautiful creature I inherently knew was filled to the brim with evil—my world splintered into a million pieces. I don’t see how it will ever be right again.

My gaze drops to the glass, and I raise it to my mouth. No delicate sip I can’t even feel. I toss it back, swallow hard around the large amount of liquor, and feel it settle into my belly with a sizzling burn. It’s the first thing I’ve really felt in a while, and it causes me to hiss.

Carrick and Zaid whip their heads my way and I hold the empty glass up, rocking it back and forth. “Think I can get some more?”

“In a minute,” Carrick replies in his erudite voice that’s neither European nor American, and it doesn’t hold a hint of worry within. He moves my way, Zaid following.

Taking a chair opposite me, he perches on the end and rests his elbows on his knees. I stay slumped in the same position I’ve been in since arriving. Zaid stands a few feet back from Carrick, his arms crossed. Instead of his normally grumpy face, his expression is filled with concern.

His daemon face, that is, with protruding brow, sunken cheeks, and black eyes. I don’t even see his human countenance anymore.

“How long did you know Fallon was a Dark Fae?” Carrick inquires in a clipped tone, the accusation heavy in the air.

My mouth parts in surprise. “What?”

“How long have you known your sister was a Dark Fae?” he repeats.

“The minute I saw her face morph,” I snarl. “Are you accusing me of hiding it?”

“She’s your sister, Finley,” he replies softly. “It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think you would try to protect her.”

My gut is burning. Not from the bourbon, but with white-hot fury over his inference. I push up from my slump, straightening my spine. My fists clench hard into the diaphanous material of my skirt. “That’s ridiculous. You saw my reaction to her. It was physically painful to be near her when she changed. And since you can see fae as well, you know damn well she changed right there. When she… when she… died right in front of my eyes.”

If I weren’t hurting so badly, I might be ashamed, but I bend over with my arms over my stomach and the tears come forth in earnest. Free-flowing, hot, and salty. They drip onto the material of my skirt, creating more translucency. I take in a breath, which is a mistake because then I start sobbing. Wracking, painful sobs of misery and grief that don’t stop until I start to hyperventilate.

I can’t get the image out of my mind… the creature Fallon turned into. For someone as dark and evil as she’d become, she was so white all the way around. Pale skin, platinum hair, and almost colorless eyes. She looked like some kind of sinister ice queen and was terrifying to behold.

A weight settles on the couch beside me, then large hands come to my shoulders to pull me up straight. Carrick murmurs, “Take some deep breaths, Finley. Come on… inhale deep.”

Without question, I do what he asks, drawing as much air into my lungs as I can and holding it until it burns. It takes my mind off my loss for a moment, and I’m able to let it out in a quavering rush. I do it again, and again, and one more time, until Zaid is squatting in front of me with another glass of bourbon.

Not a lick of empathy on his face, eyes still cold and detached, yet that singular thoughtful action of bringing me liquor touches something in me. A tiny hiccup comes out and I give him a watery smile. “Thank you, but no.”

Zaid rises, then sets the bourbon on a table to the side of the couch. My breathing evens out, and I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. A linen handkerchief is produced out of nothingness, yet it’s Carrick holding it out for me to take. I do, dabbing at my eyes and then realizing my nose is completely stuffed up, so I blow hard into it. I ball the snot rag up in my hands and grip it tight, my gaze going hazy as I stare at the pretty silver-and-gray rug beneath my feet—one with a sandal and one without.

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