I point the finger that’s hovering just above my skin, stabbing downward toward the outside of my calf. “Look.”
He squats beside me, and Zaid comes to do the same right beside him. They both peer hard at the feather on my leg.
“What the fuck is that?” I wheeze, feeling like all the air in my lungs has been squashed.
Without any hesitation or fear, Carrick is the one who touches it. His finger starts at the quill, which is closer to my ankle. Gently, he glides it up my skin, following the long flow of the feather.
His head lifts, eyes coming to mine as he asks, “Did this just appear?”
“I don’t know.” The hysteria in my voice is not abating. “It wasn’t there when I got dressed for the party.”
I know damn well it wasn’t because I’d shaved my legs, which means I had an eagle-eye view. There was no white tattoo there.
I know I should feel ridiculous, sitting on the gym floor, one leg in my pants, the other out, and my panties on full display, but there are more urgent matters pressing upon me.
Both men rise, giving each other concerned looks.
“It must have happened at the same time Fallon changed,” Zaid says.
“More than likely, at the same time Finley was born,” Carrick corrects.
“8:34 PM,” I murmur as I stare at the feather, knowing the exact time of my birth in relation to Fallon’s. “My mom died three minutes later.”
“Get dressed,” Carrick says gently in a timbre I rarely hear, and it causes my head to lift so I can see him. His return gaze is troubled, but for the first time ever, I see a touch of sympathy in his expression. “Come into the living room when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.”
* * *
It takes me fifteen minutes to get dressed, which is a long damn time seeing as how I only had to thread one more leg into my pants. But I sit on the floor long after Carrick and Zaid leave, finally getting up the nerve to touch the feather.
I expect to feel a jolt, perhaps even a tingle, but I get nothing. The lines of the feather aren’t raised, my skin smooth in texture thanks to good moisturizing and a morning shave. The feather itself is wide and long, and definitely not the type that would be used as an inking quill. It narrows only slightly at the tip, curving into a blunted edge. The individual strands can be seen with clarity. I have no clue what type of bird it might belong to, but it’s not delicate looking at all. Rather, it makes me believe it would belong to a large species known for strength of flight, like perhaps an eagle.
The coloring is odd, all one shade of bright white so it shows up like a beacon against my pale skin. Sometimes if I stare at it too hard, it seems to glow, but I know it’s my eyes merely playing a trick on me.
I try to think back to when Fallon was changing, and if it was indeed at the time she was born, it stands to reason the feather showed up on my skin at the time I was born. Except I didn’t feel a thing.
One could argue I 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.