“Gee, thanks. That was the worst apology ever,” I grouse.
Carrick ignores that and starts pacing while Zaid just stands by placidly with his hands folded before him. I bend over to remove the remaining sandal from my foot. For a brief moment, I wonder where the other one is and since things can’t be any crazier, I also wonder if maybe my Prince Charming will find it and bring it to me. Whisk me away from all of this on his white horse so we can live happily ever after.
I snort, realizing my thoughts are bordering on insane.
And then a horrific thought strikes me, filling me with hysteria. I practically screech as I pop off the couch. “Am I fae? Have I changed?”
Carrick stops mid-stride, turning to face me with a scowl. Zaid’s expression doesn’t change.
I pick up my skirt, round the coffee table, and put myself right before Carrick as I demand, “Look at me. Am I a fae? A daemon?”
“No, Miss Porter,” he replies drolly. “You are as you ever were.”
“It’s Finley,” I snap angrily, because it irritates me that he is back to formality with my name. “And how can you be sure? You’ve been taking me to different people trying to figure out if there’s something other than human in me, which means you can’t know everything.”
“That is true,” he replies smoothly. “But as you are standing here in front of me now, I can tell you that, as of this moment, you are not fae or daemon. Now, whether that remains true five minutes from now, I have no clue.”
He could not have said anything less reassuring to me, but, then again, Carrick has never tried to spare my feelings or sugarcoat things.
“We need to talk,” Carrick says, and this time his tone is something I’ve never heard before. It sounds regretful, and I know he has some bad news to impart.
“So talk,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.
His gaze runs down my body and then back up again. “Go change into some of your workout clothes. I know that dress can’t be comfortable.”
“I’m fine.” I lift my chin, showing him that he can’t order me around.
His lips don’t move, but something bursts inside of my head… an invasion of words that seem to bounce around on the inside of my skull like an echo. Go change your clothes.
Without giving my body permission to do so, it starts walking past Carrick toward the hall that will lead toward the gym. I try to push against the force, and easily stop in my tracks.
“What was that?” I ask as I whirl to face Carrick, my voice a mere whisper because I’m so stunned by what just happened.
“Compulsion,” he replies without any further explanation.
It’s the first time Carrick has ever exhibited any type of supernatural ability other than being able to see fae and daemons. It chills me to my bones as it means I know nothing about this man.
I can feel that my body is my own and the need he instilled to walk to the gym is gone. But I also know, that if I don’t do as he says, he’s going to make me do it.
So I go. Right to the gym where I pull clothes out of the cabinets without much thought. I don’t even bother going to the bathroom to change, but disrobe right there, kicking my beautiful dress that I’ll burn later because it’s now forever associated with the death of my sister aside.
I put on a sports bra and a long-sleeved t-shirt first. Picking up a pair of dark gray workout leggings, I first put my left leg in while balancing on my right. I pop my foot through the end, then pull the stretchy material up a bit before planting it on the floor and lifting my right leg.
Just as it rises, my gaze catches on the outside of my right calf. At first, it doesn’t penetrate what I’m seeing, perhaps because my psyche just can’t handle one more horror tonight.
But I stare at it hard before blinking several times to see if it will go away, hoping perhaps it’s a figment of my overused and battered imagination.
Glowing white, even against the paleness of my skin, it remains, and panic fills me. “Carrick,” I scream, flopping to the gym floor on my butt. I turn my right knee inward, drawing my ankle closer to me so I can get a better look.
Right there, about three inches down from my knee, is a white outline of a feather. With a shaky finger, I reach out to touch it, but I’m distracted by Carrick bursting into the gym, Zaid right on his heels.
Carrick’s eyes are alight with something ferocious as he scans for some threat before spotting me on the floor. Relief washing over his expression, he takes long strides my way as he asks, “What’s wrong?”