“No,” he replies gently. “I can’t guarantee you won’t die, but you will be safer with me at your side as we try to figure this thing out.”
I consider his words, even mustering a smile. “I appreciate you being candid with me.”
Perhaps mistaking my soft words and almost surrendering tone, Carrick smiles back. I let him keep the victory for a moment before advising him, “I don’t want any part of this, Carrick. Veda said it was my choice. Right now, I have no proof this so-called prophecy will even occur.”
“It will,” he assures me.
“And I can’t trust that.”
Gaze turning hard, Carrick rises from the bench. As always seems to be our positions, I have to tip my head back to see him. I think he does that to remind me he’s stronger and more in control than I ever will be. It’s a metaphor I should always look up to him. “You’re unsafe, Finley. I’ve done my best to shield your home and this boat, but you’re going to become a target and you can’t stay holed up forever.”
“But maybe I’m not a target,” I counter, because I need to be right about this. “It’s just as plausible knowledge of me stays contained.”
“That’s true,” he agrees, but then his jaw locks tight. “But consider this… the abomination that killed off your sister is, as we speak, surrounding herself with dark daemons. She’s here for a purpose and I can tell you, she is beyond villainous. I promise you, if just one of those creatures tells her about your abilities, you’ll be dead within hours.”
Those words cause a shudder to ripple up my spine. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“Yes,” he admits. “But I’m not exaggerating either.”
I don’t respond, and he doesn’t say anything further. Eventually, he takes my silence as my refusal to acknowledge his warning and gives a heaving sigh of frustration.
What he doesn’t know is that I’m not refusing to understand the grave circumstances I’m in. But I’m also not willing to commit my life to him and the gods’ little game. It offends me on principle and maybe, just maybe, I’m willing to forfeit my life so as not to be a pawn on their chessboard.
“Will you do me at least one favor?” Carrick asks, and it’s surprising coming from a man who has done nothing but order me about. I merely raise one eyebrow to indicate I’m listening. “Continue your training with Titus. He’s worried about you, too.”
That causes a warm bubble to pop in my chest that not only is Titus worried about me, but also Carrick implied he was as well. This is surprising because I still believe deep down, Carrick very much dislikes me to some extent.
Still, I move with caution. “I’m not coming to your condo. I don’t want anything to do with you or this supernatural prophecy crap.”
I feel safe in saying this, knowing that my future with One Bean still rests in his hands. If Carrick was going to use that against me, he’d have done it by now.
“Fair enough,” he relents. “I’ll rent gym space for you somewhere far away from my condo if that appeases you.”
My mind quickly runs through the pros and cons, but honestly, it seems like a good deal. Like I said, I’m not discounting the danger I could be in. It’s one of the things that I probably believe coming from him, and it seems that it can only help to protect myself. Plus, I love training with Titus, and I could use it to help expel pent-up energy, fear, and frustration.
“Can I still train with the whip?” I ask as I uncurl myself and stand from the bench. “I’d been getting pretty good with it and would love to have it as protection.”
“As long as you don’t strangle yourself with it,” he replies dryly. “I’ll have Titus contact you to resume your training.”
“Deal,” I reply with a firm nod.
Conversation over and Carrick apparently not willing to continue the battle to get me to accept my destiny, he turns sharply on his heel and heads down the boardwalk.
For the briefest of moments, I actually feel a bit of a loss and I hate myself for it. Then a thought suddenly strikes me.
“Hey,” I call.
He halts, turning to face me from fifteen feet away.
“How did you find me?” I ask, suddenly realizing I’m supposed to be in hiding and, well, here he is.
Carrick flashes a positively pompous smile. “I never lost you, Finley.”
Huh.
I’m actually… impressed. Maybe a little creeped out.
“Don’t try hiding again,” he warns. “It won’t do you any good.”
Guess my time on the Fantasia is at an abrupt end, but truth be told, I miss my house and my bed.
“What about One Bean?” I ask since he seems to be in a semi-agreeable mood.
“What about it?” he counters, but it’s rhetorical. “Keep doing your job and when you’ve come to your senses about the prophecy, we’ll get to work on figuring it out.”
Keep dreaming, I think.
“Besides,” he adds, a taunting glimmer in his eyes. “I can only imagine you’d like to find out what happened to your sister and whether she’s still inside that body to be saved.”
Crap. That managed to get me straight in the feels, as my heart lurches at the thought of Fallon being stuffed down in some deep, dark, figurative box, trapped and all alone. It almost makes me relent.
The only reason I don’t is because I’ve got the means to do some figuring out myself. Titus will be training me, and he’ll be sympathetic. He can put me in touch with the right people who can possibly tell me what happened to Fallon. Worst-case scenario, I can try to track Echo down and see if she can help. At this point, I’m not above contributing money for her meth habit if it can get my sister back. I try not to cringe inwardly at how low I’m stooping to even be thinking that, but I will do what I have to do to save Fallon if she can be saved.
With that all safely secured as a game plan in my mind, I don’t rise to take Carrick’s bait. I merely say, “Have Titus call me, and I’ll get back to training.”
Carrick nods and once again pivots to walk away from me. I watch him for a few seconds before heading back into the houseboat. I still have plenty of work to do, although something tells me that I’m going to be even more distracted than I was before.
CHAPTER 6
Finley
“Nice move,” Titus praises as I block a low Thai kick meant to buckle the back of my knee and take me to the ground. I counter with a backfist aimed at the side of his head, but he’s so damn quick that just a tiny jerk of his body to the left and I connect with nothing but air.
He goes on the attack, coming at me with a flurry of punches and elbows, and my arms fly just as fast as he backs me across the gym. I manage to block every single one. When he finally throws a right cross, I block it from inside out, wrap my arm around his, and move into his space. I use my right arm to land four hard uppercuts to his gut, which, although he grunts, my knuckles feel like they are banging on a brick wall because his muscles are so tight.
Titus counters by moving his free arm around the back of my head, squeezing my neck within the crook of his elbow. It’s the start of a grappling move and I know once he takes me to the ground, it’s all over.