birthday.”
“That’s when she changed,” he murmurs knowingly.
“Yes, that’s when she changed,” I agree. “Let me tell you how and why.”
* * *
I back out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed quietly behind me. Blain is sleeping thanks to a light sedative a doctor “friend” of Carrick’s gave to him.
It had taken nearly an hour to tell Blain everything. In that time frame, I not only had to deal with his surprise and anger, but also his grief as well. To us, Fallon was a sister and a fiancée—someone who was loved and lost.
While we talked, Blain ate like a starved man, and there’s no doubt he wasn’t fed well during captivity. He took a shower and looked incredibly frail in the t-shirt and sweatpants of Carrick’s I gave him to wear. He had to roll the elastic band a few times to get them to stay up. Then he let the doctor Carrick called examine him and accepted the offered sedative to get some rest before he left later tonight.
We decided that Blain needed to be moved somewhere secure where he could recuperate and stay safe until this was all over. This decision wasn’t arrived at easily, as Blain wanted to just go home to his parents. He knew they thought he was dead, and he wanted to rectify that assumption as quickly as possible.
But mostly, he just wanted to go somewhere that comforted him.
Thankfully, I talked him out of that. I explained that once he resurfaced, the police were going to ramp up an investigation which would throw heat my way because I’m Fallon’s sister. I didn’t have time to deal with that, being just over a week until the new moon.
What resonated the most was a simple question. “What are you going to tell them, Blain? Where are you going to say you’ve been for the past few months? Are you going to tell them about fae and daemons and rituals to open a door between Hell and Earth? Because you’re going to end up in a psych unit if you do. And trust me… you know I have personal experience with that.”
That’s what really got him to agree to go somewhere safe that Carrick could arrange. In turn, Carrick assured him that he’d help him arrange a plausible reintroduction back into his life. In this instance, Carrick wouldn’t use his demi-god powers, but I assume his incredible wealth and influence where necessary.
On the flip side, I told Blain, “If Kymaris succeeds and the veil comes down, there’s no reason to hide what happened to you. Your parents and everyone else on Earth will know what you went through is the truth.”
I leave Blain’s room and head into the kitchen, where I find Zaid making dinner.
“Where’s Carrick?” I ask.
“In his office,” he replies as he works at dicing some chicken breasts. “Making arrangements for Blain.”
I nod silently, determined not to ask, but ultimately do. “And Zora?”
“I haven’t seen her or Maddox in a while,” he replies dryly, and I don’t need to know more. They’re probably in one of their bedrooms having casual, meaningless, no-strings sex.
“And your father?” I inquire.
“He left to go check out the gallery, see if anything else of value was in there after you rescued Blain. But he’ll be back. I invited him to dinner.”
My mouth drops open in astonishment. Zaid sees said astonishment and purses his lips before admonishing. “Don’t make a big deal of this, okay?”
I shake my head, make a cross over my heart. “No big deal.”
Wow. Zaid invited his dad to dinner. It’s something I thought I’d never see, and I wonder about the change of heart. Surely, it’s not one particular thing, but most likely a series of watching his father be loyal to our team. On more than one occasion, Boral has even protected me.
That’s kind of a big deal since he’s a Ravager and his nature is to cut my throat instead.
Zaid places the diced chicken in a bowl, then starts throwing in various seasonings. I don’t pay close attention since whatever he’s making will be fantastic, as always. I’ve often wondered why Zaid doesn’t open a restaurant or something, because he’s got mad chef skills.
Regardless, it does warm me to know that he’s open to perhaps allowing Boral into his life a bit. Maybe there’s an opportunity to mend fences. It could take decades… maybe even centuries, but Zaid inviting his dad to dinner is a cracking open of the door.
While I promised Zaid I