“Yes, I know,” I reply softly. “And you have every right to feel that way. But you don’t have to like him to use him.”
It falls silent until Maddox says, “Let’s get out of here and head back to the condo. I’m starving. We can talk about it more over food.”
I roll my eyes because Maddox is constantly eating. He’s a big dude, though, so I guess he needs it. As he and Zaid move the cement coffin covers back in place, I lean back against the cold stone wall to wait for them.
Except when I do, I feel something depress inward by my shoulder blade. I jump away from the wall, then turn to look at it. There are words written in the Hungarian language carved into the stone, and a small part of the wall is recessed inward where I’d been standing. It’s a square about six-inches-by-six-inches, and I reach toward it to see if it will push in farther.
But Maddox is there, grabbing me by my wrist and pulling me completely away from the wall. When I look at him questioningly, he says, “I don’t feel like dealing with you if that’s a trap that cuts your hand off.”
“Oh,” I reply, taking a few more steps back.
Zaid moves past me, then sidles up next to Maddox. The two men study the wall for a long moment. Then, Maddox pushes on it again. To all of our surprise, scraping noises of stone against stone fills the interior of the mausoleum. We all turn to the source, and it’s coming from one of the coffins Zaid had been looking inside.
Except it’s not the stone top moving, but rather the entire coffin is moving backward along the floor. It goes no more than a foot before it stops, revealing a rectangular cavity under it.
“Holy shit,” I murmur as I step toward it. “It’s like Indiana Jones.”
Maddox is once again pulling me back. “And remember, there were tons of booby traps in that movie.”
Alas, there are none as Maddox reaches into the dark hole and pulls out a leather pouch that is so old, it shreds to pieces under his touch. He pulls bits of the frayed material away, revealing an oval disc made of what looks like bronze. There are symbols etched around the perimeter.
Maddox holds it up. “Looks like Boral’s information was good.”
“Doesn’t make it any less likely he sent the wraith after her,” Zaid points out.
“But he’s no more a suspect than any other fae out there,” I reiterate.
“Food,” Maddox barks. “Let’s get back to the condo, and we can get the Scooby Gang to research this some more.”
My Scooby Gang. I loved it when Maddox referred to Rainey and Myles by that moniker because it wasn’t just cute, but it meant he saw them as a true part of our team.
“All together now,” Maddox says, lining up shoulder to shoulder with Zaid and me.
Normally, humans can’t bend distance, but I’m apparently the exception because of the light powers Sarvel the Custodia angel gave me. Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried tapping into my light powers to use them as a weapon with little success. As evidenced tonight, I can manage a fairly good bubble shield but past that, I haven’t even been able to get my fingertips to spark.
I have, however, gotten very proficient with bending distance. I could jump across small spaces before, but now I can move between continents. During those times when I’d miss Carrick the most, I’d envision a place and bend distance to go there. I’d never stay more than a few minutes because I know it’s not the safest for me to be on my own, and then I’d head right back to my bed.
I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower at night.
The northern lights in Fairbanks.
The Great Pyramid of Giza that once covered the magical meteor.
Brief visits, just to hone my skills and let me have a few moments of wonder to distract me.
I stand close to Maddox, prepared to pull Seattle to me, but I don’t need his help.
For that matter, neither does Zaid.
As a daemon, Zaid doesn’t ordinarily have the power to bend distance on his own, but the trip alone won’t kill him since he’s immortal. He could easily have held on to Maddox or me, and we could have pulled him along. As it happens, though, it helps to have friends in high places. Given that he and Carrick are as tight as two friends can be, Carrick bestowed certain magical benefits on him. One was to bend distance, but it had nothing to do with allowing Zaid to travel freely. Rather, Carrick gave Zaid the ability purely as an escape mechanism for when his father found him, as Boral was forever trying to get Zaid to return to the fold.
Zaid’s history with his father is brutal and so savage, I hate to even think about it. Zaid and his years of murdering and maiming alongside his father, Boral, eventually weighed too heavily upon him. The empathic power inherited from his Light Fae mother caused him to become so despondent over his actions, he left his father and attempted to punish himself by crucifying his body to a tree with iron.
Luckily, Carrick found Zaid and changed his life for the better.
These days, he reluctantly gives his father small bits of his time as long as Boral is on his best behavior. Of course, Zaid and Maddox don’t think Boral is capable of being good, which feeds their inherent mistrust of him.
“I’m thinking pastrami sandwiches when we get back,” Maddox says, glancing past me to Zaid.
“You’ll have to run to the deli,” Zaid returns.
I just smile.
Here we are in a spooky cemetery in Hungary, having just battled a wraith to the death, and in possession of an ancient magical relic, yet these two are talking about pastrami.
It’s things like this that actually help to keep me balanced through the craziness.
CHAPTER 2
Finley
Carrick’s condo is quiet. I’m lying on one of the couches in the living area, head resting on a throw pillow. I’ve got one foot planted on a cushion with my knee raised, the opposite ankle propped on said knee. I’m holding my phone before me, playing Candy Crush.
I’ve been here for almost an hour and a half. Other than to switch legs when one started to fall asleep, I haven’t moved.
Here I am, supposedly the savior of the world who is destined to stop an evil prophecy, and I’m doing nothing but playing a game on my phone.
I could be researching down in the library, except I did that for four hours this morning and my brain hurts.
I could go to the gym and train, except I did that before the research.
I could walk over to One Bean and check on the rebuild, but there’s no need. Rainey is overseeing it like a champ, and I get daily emails detailing the progress. She also sends along pictures and video.
And these are the borders of my existence. Outside of the occasional adventurous jaunt such as the one we made to Hungary three days ago, my life has become positively boring.
Rainey does such a tremendous job with One Bean that I’m wondering if she’ll want to buy the shop from me.
Not that I want to sell it, but more like why even bother having it? If I’m more than likely going to die in this prophecy, what’s the point in even having an interest in it anymore? Of course, what would I do with the money such a sale would generate, assuming Rainey could come up with said money? I don’t want anything, and, even if I did, I wouldn’t have the time to use it.
Rather, I’d best be served to name her as my beneficiary and give it to her in my will.