“Not all daemons. She couldn’t see me,” Zaid pointed out. “But all that means is she has no clue how to use her skill. With some training, I think she could have busted through my glamour. I wonder if she can see fae the same way, or perhaps she might have other powers she has kept hidden from you?”
Carrick shrugged as he transitioned into Mozart’s “Sonata No. 11”. “I have no clue. I mean… she’s human. You’d agree with that?”
“I definitely didn’t get anything non-human off her,” Zaid affirmed. “But then again, if she’s human, it should be impossible for her to be able to see past glamours.”
That was a truth that couldn’t be denied. Carrick’s knowledge of fae and their daemon offspring was unparalleled, and he’d never heard of one such as Finley Porter.
He reasoned she must be an anomaly.
Something… other.
“You know, early humans who got hold of pieces of the stone harnessed that magic. I mean, that history dates back thousands of years, but maybe she has a stone.”
Zaid snorted. “I doubt it… she seems entirely clueless.”
Carrick smiled in amusement. “Clueless, indeed.”
“What are you going to do with her?” Zaid asked, not an ounce of concern in his tone. Merely curiosity.
Carrick stiffened, shocked by the question as the last notes of music drifted off into silence. “Do with her? Why would I possibly want to do anything with her?”
Zaid leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “You know she crossed your path for a reason.”
Refusing to allow the weight of that statement to settle over him, Carrick swung his legs over the piano bench and stood tall. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”
Moving to the windows, Carrick barely took in the city lights, the boats on the Sound, and Zaid’s reflection behind him still leaning on the piano.
“You could just kill her,” Zaid suggested.
It was an option for sure.
There was something else he could do, though. Something he’d considered before, but it had been an extremely long time since it had crossed his mind. It seemed more appropriate now than ever.
Carrick pivoted toward Zaid. “I think it’s time to petition for ascension.”
Blinking in surprise, Zaid straightened. “Are you ready for that?”
“You know me better than most,” Carrick replied with a wry smile. “What do you think?”
Inclining his head in acknowledgment, Zaid returned a smile—one that spoke of a man who would always bend to Carrick’s wishes. “You’re more than ready and most deserving.”
It’s what Carrick needed to hear. “I’m going to get changed. Have the Mercedes brought around front. I’m going to see The Council.”
* * *
After a change of clothes from suit to jeans and a quick meal Zaid insisted on, Carrick drove southeast out of Seattle and headed in the direction of Mount Rainier. Zaid offered to make the ride with him, but Carrick declined. Not that he minded the company. Zaid was one of those who didn’t waste words so conversation with him was never tedious. However, he didn’t know how long he would be with The Council, and he didn’t want Zaid to have to potentially wait for hours.
Not that Zaid would mind. His loyalty to Carrick was unquestionable, and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do if Carrick asked.
Still, this was better done alone.
Just before reaching Mount Rainier National Park, there was a small town called Carbonado that had barely seven hundred residents. It was best known for excellent jeep trails and abandoned coal mines, and past that, there’s not much else.
But Carrick’s business wasn’t in Carbonado, but rather a few miles south of the town limits. He followed WA-165, a winding two-lane road, bordered by forests on either side. There were houses scattered here and there, but, past that, it was desolate and incredibly dark.
Carrick slowed his vehicle—a black Mercedes G550 he picked up a few years ago on a whim because he liked the rugged design—and executed a careful right turn onto a dirt road just wide enough for one vehicle. Actually, it wasn’t even much of a road—it was more of a path cut into the woods with barely discernible tracks that had been used on occasion by others coming to see The Council.
Carrick’s SUV bounced along, taking the rough terrain like it was designed to do. The pathway went on through a thick forest of pine intermixed with fir and cedar for what seemed like miles, but, in actuality, it was just slightly less than two. The canopy of trees overhead was so dense the rain wasn’t breaking through, so Carrick didn’t need his windshield wipers anymore.
Reaching his destination, which was merely the end of the path that stopped abruptly, Carrick cut the engine. The headlights remained on for a short amount of time and through their beams, the trees pressed in on all sides.
Grabbing a flashlight from the glove box, Carrick exited the vehicle and headed west. His footsteps were sure as he followed the beam from his flashlight, the hiking boots on his feet easily traversing the forest floor covered with roots, pine needles, and decaying leaves.