A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,4

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