I look at the Concordia daemon I had drawn with her delicate wings. Zaid with his dove gray aura that I was able to blend to a perfect shade to match his real one. And finally… Carrick. That moment he first laid eyes on me and the unmistakable loathing that was there in his expression.
My hand presses flat against the drawing and I slide it downward, smudging his likeness so I can’t see the hate as clearly. Then my fingers press hard, get purchase on the paper, and I draw them inward, crumpling the paper. I squish it hard and rip it from the journal, balling it up tightly.
As I rise from the bed, my journal falls to the floor and I move across the room to my desk. I drop the drawing in the wastebasket, hoping the symbolic act will help erase Carrick’s memory. Help scrub away his heavy presence that has left an indelible mark over the past month.
Yet, I have the strangest sensation he’s closer to me than ever.
For a moment, I think it’s just emotions surfacing and perhaps part of me rebelling against wanting to cut him from my life. But then, with utter clarity, I suddenly realize he is close by.
I can feel him.
Whipping toward my door, I expect to see him standing there, but it’s firmly closed. I pivot back to my window where the blinds are shut, narrowing my eyes.
Surely not.
Casting my room in darkness by flipping off the overhead light, I creep over to the window. Gently, I put my fingers between the thin plastic slats and pull them up barely an inch so I can peek out.
At the end of my driveway stands a lone figure too heavily shadowed to see his face with any detail. But I can tell based on the height, build, and gnawing intuition in my gut that it’s Carrick.
He stands with his legs spread slightly, and he holds his hands up with palms facing my house. It’s the exact same stance he had tonight facing the elevators. Although I can’t see his face at all, I know he’s murmuring words that would sound like gibberish to me.
And suddenly it hits me what he was doing at the elevators. Back in his condo, I was still too deep in the throes of grief and anguish to really give it much thought, but the foreign words I now remember not understanding and the way he held his hands up, I realize he was casting some sort of protective spell on the elevators. I can only assume he was afraid the evil Fallon could potentially come after me.
Now here he is, standing before my home, and I know he’s doing the same thing. Casting some sort of protective measure over this house so his precious little prophecy breaker won’t get hurt and be of no use to him down the road.
I should have known this would happen. It was too easy tonight when he just let me walk out of his condo, especially since he had the power to make me stay if he wanted.
Carrick clearly has powerful magic.
A servant of the gods is what he called himself. They must have gifted him, making their lackey special enough to carry out their biddings.
And they’ve promised him further reward for helping me.
My hackles rise as I understand Carrick thinks I’m his to control. I’m sure he thinks he can force me to help with this prophecy.
The figure at the end of my driveway drops his hands, then turns slightly my way. His head tips back a bit, which would mean he was looking at the second floor of my home. My window is the only one visible to the street.
Carrick stares at me for what seems like forever. I don’t make a move to drop the one-inch space of blinds, feeling that would be like letting him win. Instead, I keep my eyes pinned on him until he casually turns and starts walking down the street, eventually melting into the darkness.
I release the blind. Not bothering with pajamas, I flop onto my bed and kick off my tennis shoes. Curling onto my side, I draw my knees up and hug my pillow tight.
I’m scared.
I’m sick at heart.
I’m alone.
But despite all of that, the one thing I will not do is be forced to participate in any of this. It’s time for me to disappear for a bit in the hope this will all blow over.
CHAPTER 3
Finley
It’s surprising to me how quickly my plan went into effect. I barely slept last night, but the good side to that was I did a lot of thinking.
And now, less than twenty-four hours after I left Carrick’s condo, I’m officially in hiding.
It started first with a candid but “with boundaries” talk with my roommates early this morning. I told them that something bad had happened, I couldn’t tell them what it was, and Carrick Byrne was someone I felt the need to cut from my life. Incredibly careful with my wording, I told them while he was not a danger to me in any way, I felt the need to maybe get away from the house in case he wanted to seek me out.
Of course, they were all alarmed. There were a million questions I couldn’t answer, causing frustration for all.
Rainey was still thinking there was something romantic between Carrick and me, and that this was a broken-heart issue. I assured her it was not, and she said even if it were, she was still all in helping me to lay low.
Myles was worried something abusive had happened, and I assured him that was not the case. He was not convinced. I had to re-assure and continue to do so until the level of skepticism in his expression dwindled to acceptance. I hinted that my issues with him were of a more philosophical nature, but they were important enough I had to cut all ties.
Adira was worried about One Bean, as was I. Carrick is still my business partner, and he has taken an active interest in the coffee shop he helped me to purchase. I’m not stupid enough to think I can just ignore him if he wants interaction from me on a business level, because he has the power to destroy One Bean if he wants. So I have to play this very carefully.
I don’t plan on evading him if he reaches out for business reasons. I’m just going to do it from a distance and if he doesn’t like it, that’s tough. There is a part of me that is hoping—no banking—on this blowing over somehow. That Carrick will leave me alone. That he will appeal to his crazy gods to find another person to thwart the impending doom. That the prophecy will come to pass without me. That Fallon will be changed back into the sister I love.
That was probably naïve thinking, but the alternative is just not acceptable to me right now. Given what I saw last night and what I’ve learned, my psyche simply won’t allow me to consider any other options. Perhaps I’m just not strong enough to face this, and I am hiding.
There’s even a part of me that’s longing for the days I was thought to be mentally ill, because at least that was something I could have some control over through medications and counseling.
But this horror story I’m involved in right now… there is no control at all.
Thus, I decided to disappear for a little bit, at least until I can figure out how to handle Carrick’s involvement in my business.
The houseboat that will be my temporary hideout home is a treasure in Seattle. It’s called the Fantasia, and it’s located on Lake Union, just under the Aurora Bridge. At almost five-thousand square feet in size—four bedrooms and three baths—it’s the largest floating home in Seattle and known as the Jewel of Lake Union.
Not that I’ll be out and about much, but it sits at the base of one of my favorite places in Seattle—Freemont. It’s a suburb of cool indie shops, eclectic bars, and a very distinct bohemian vibe. It’s home to the famous Fremont Troll, which lurks under the Aurora Bridge and, ironically, a supernatural creature I’d always been drawn to. I wonder if perhaps that was because of my innate ability to see such things in real life?