“Get dressed,” Carrick says gently in a timbre I rarely hear, and it causes my head to lift so I can see him. His return gaze is troubled, but for the first time ever, I see a touch of sympathy in his expression. “Come into the living room when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.”
* * *
It takes me fifteen minutes to get dressed, which is a long damn time seeing as how I only had to thread one more leg into my pants. But I sit on the floor long after Carrick and Zaid leave, finally getting up the nerve to touch the feather.
I expect to feel a jolt, perhaps even a tingle, but I get nothing. The lines of the feather aren’t raised, my skin smooth in texture thanks to good moisturizing and a morning shave. The feather itself is wide and long, and definitely not the type that would be used as an inking quill. It narrows only slightly at the tip, curving into a blunted edge. The individual strands can be seen with clarity. I have no clue what type of bird it might belong to, but it’s not delicate looking at all. Rather, it makes me believe it would belong to a large species known for strength of flight, like perhaps an eagle.
The coloring is odd, all one shade of bright white so it shows up like a beacon against my pale skin. Sometimes if I stare at it too hard, it seems to glow, but I know it’s my eyes merely playing a trick on me.
I try to think back to when Fallon was changing, and if it was indeed at the time she was born, it stands to reason the feather showed up on my skin at the time I was born. Except I didn’t feel a thing.
One could argue I didn’t feel anything happening on my leg because I was too busy being doubled over in pain from Fallon’s change.
I suppose there’s a small chance the feather could coincide with my mom’s time of death, but it’s more probable these events match our birth times.
A wave of grief washes through me yet again, a stark reminder that coping with what Fallon has become is going to be a process. I don’t even know what she is to me. If she’s truly a Dark Fae, does she even remember me? If she does retain her memories of Fallon, does that mean she still holds love for me, or has that been obliterated by her evil?
And make no mistake… she’s evil. It’s a knowledge that’s settled not only in my heart, but also in my bones.
Worse yet, what if Fallon was fae all along and is so powerful she managed to keep it hidden? I mean, I have the ability to see fae when I shouldn’t. Maybe she has the ability to cloak herself from me. What if she’s been stringing me along and playing me all this time, and that could possibly explain why we never had a deeply developed twin bond?
That thought is almost too abhorrent to consider.
Eventually, I finish dressing, including a pair of socks and tennis shoes, and make my way back to the main living area, except I don’t find Carrick or Zaid there. I glance in the kitchen, find it empty, and decide to make my way to Carrick’s office.
Sure enough, I find both men there. I’m not sure what it says that when I look at them, in my mind, I call them “men”. Zaid is a daemon, but is he also a man? Technically, he’s not. When I look at him now, I don’t see his human face. But still, despite knowing he is not of the human race, I consider him a man above all else. Does that mean I’ve developed a fondness? Or perhaps I’ve gotten too comfortable around him, accepting him as being more like me than not?
As for Carrick, he appears in every sense to be a man, yet I know he’s something different. When he said we needed to talk, it inferred he knows more than he’s let on before. If that’s the case, I’m not accepting any more half-truths or partial stories. I’m going to insist on knowing everything.
Carrick sits officiously behind his desk, although he’s removed his tuxedo jacket and tie, as well as rolled his sleeves up to mid-forearms. On more than one occasion, I’ve thought he has great forearms, but they do nothing for me in this moment.
Zaid sits in one of the two guest chairs across the desk from Carrick and I see a tea service set for one on Carrick’s desk. As I take my seat beside Zaid, he rises and pours me a cup.
For a moment, I consider it could be poisoned, but, deep in my gut, I know I’m too important to be expendable at this point. It’s with gratitude I accept the drink, inhaling the soothing blend of chamomile and orange, before taking a sip.
Zaid resumes his seat, and my gaze moves to Carrick. I lean forward, set my cup on his desk, and settle back into my chair. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”
CHAPTER 2
Finley
Carrick doesn’t dawdle. Doesn’t provide unnecessary background. He just rips the bandage off and says, “There’s a prophecy of doom, and you’re an integral part in thwarting it.”
I blink once, my eyes remaining open and round with shock. “You mean… like a Buffy the Vampire Slayer prophecy?”
I don’t ask that with any amount of levity, only that all seven seasons of Buffy are my only reference to prophecies.
“Who in the hell is Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Zaid mutters. “There are no such things as vampires.”
Carrick just stares at me with such a serious expression on his beautiful face that I think what he is going to tell me is way worse than anything Buffy ever encountered.
We both ignore Zaid’s question, and I demand of Carrick. “Explain what you mean.”
Carrick leans forward, clasps his hands on his desk. “There is a prophecy that could put the entire world in peril.”
“Well, what’s the prophecy?” I ask in exasperation. “What’s the peril? When will it happen?”
“I don’t know,” he replies dully, and it’s done with such disregard of the fact that he is hitting me with some next-level information I want to claw his calm, yet glowing, eyes out.
“You don’t know?” I hiss, leaning forward in my chair. “And yet, you know there is a prophecy and I have to wonder how long you’ve known this. And why am I just hearing about it now?”
“I’ve known for about a month,” he replies, not an ounce of shame whatsoever.
My head starts spinning as anger turns to fury burning in my veins. That he would keep this from me for an entire month.
He’s been playing me, using me for some purpose I’ve yet to figure out, and drawn me deeper into a dangerous world when I might have had the opportunity to get out of it a long time ago if I’d known about this.
Reeling from what happened to my sister and the overload of information, I find myself at the end of my rope. I rise quickly from my chair. “Well, thank you very much for that information. But I’m going to have to decline participation. I’m leaving, and I want you to stay the hell away from me.”
Before I can even turn around, Carrick’s voice bursts inside my head again without him even opening his mouth. It’s stronger this time, actually making my bones rattle. Sit down.
My ass is hitting the chair before I can even comprehend what he just told me to do. I try to stand up, but I’m held immobile. I can feel my emotions getting ready to spiral out of control, but Carrick holds up a hand and I feel a calming peace wash through me.
Oh, the powers this man is just now showing me are strong, and I have to wonder what other tricks he has up his sleeve.