to the floor.
Carrick roared at the sight of her limp body, diving to the carpet beside her. He lifted her into his lap, calling her name over and over again as tears streamed down his face.
He’d been through this before. He didn’t need to feel her neck to know there was no pulse.
Finley was gone.
CHAPTER 29
Carrick
Everyone walked on eggshells and whispered around him, but, frankly, Carrick was just too numb to be irritated by it.
He’d witnessed Finley die so many times over his life that it shouldn’t hurt like this.
But what happened last night… it was like every single death of hers rolled up into one, magnified by a million, and shoved straight into his heart.
The pain was unbearable.
Apparently, it was an aneurysm.
At least, that was what the coroner suspected. Carrick didn’t doubt it, either. But it didn’t matter because she was gone… and there was no telling when she’d come back.
If she’d even come back again—because Carrick didn’t even know if Rune was in play.
He didn’t know anything anymore.
His condo was filled with plenty of people with good intentions who wanted to provide him support. They were doing their best—except Rainey, who had to be sedated and was currently asleep in a guest room. The rest—they had all come when they heard—milled about and cast worried glances his way.
Zaid was beside himself. Whenever Carrick looked at him, he was afraid the daemon would burst into tears. Maddox sat in a corner, getting drunk. Myles sat next to him—the same drink he’d had for the past two hours in his hand—staring blankly at a wall.
Caiden came, along with Titus. Poor Titus was still grieving the loss of Priya and Finley’s loss only compounded that sorrow.
Deandra and Rebsha talked quietly on a couch across from Carrick. He was surprised they came, but he knew how much they respected Finley and what she’d done to save the Earth realm.
Marcus was there, too.
Along with several of the One Bean staff, as well as Finley’s former boss, Rich, and her MMA instructor, Duane. They huddled with the One Bean staff. Occasionally, Carrick would hear soft but lamenting laughter as the group recalled good memories. That didn’t offend him at all, because everyone should smile and laugh when they thought of Finley.
It just wasn’t something he could do yet.
And while he didn’t mind all these people gathering in his home to share their grief in solidarity while paying their respects to an amazing woman, it was slowly starting to drive him crazy.
He pushed up from the couch, the movement catching Deandra and Rebsha’s attention and halting their conversation. Carrick nodded toward the patio. “Going to get some air.”
Rebsha nodded, and Deandra smiled in understanding.
Everyone in the condo silently watched him as he walked outside. When he closed the patio door, all he could hear was the sounds of traffic from below as he walked down to the north end of the building to get away from the prying eyes of all inside. It was a dreary day, perfectly suited to the somber mood. Leaning against the rail, he gazed out over the fog surrounding the Space Needle.
Carrick sensed her before he saw her. When there was a subtle pop in the air around him, he was not surprised to see Veda when he glanced to his right. She looked like a Seattleite in flannel and hiking boots, her silver-gray hair in a messy bun on top of her head.
He didn’t even acknowledge her with a greeting, merely turned his head and stared across the cityscape.
She moved silently, coming to stand beside him and leaning her forearms on the rail. He waited for her condolences or some words of inspiration, but she said nothing.
This prompted Carrick to voice his irritation. “Why are you here, Veda?”
“Would you believe to bring you happy tidings?” she replied.
Her words got Carrick’s attention because her tone was way too serious. Besides, it was inappropriate to tease at a time like this so he swiveled to look her way.
“Give me your hand,” she ordered, and Carrick didn’t hesitate.
The minute his palm touched hers, a flash of white light blinded him. He started to get dizzy.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on his patio in Seattle but in what looked like a Grecian home overlooking a blue sea. Veda was nowhere in sight.
If he had to guess, he was somewhere like Santorini, but, in reality, he could be in a made-up realm where the gods sometimes resided. He was just