A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 2)

Correction… ahead of Carrick. I’m not a part of this anymore.

My head actually hurts from thinking about all the various possibilities, many of which could lead to my death at the hands of my former sister.

I lift my head from the cradle of my hands and without thought, I pull my sketching journal out of my bedside table drawer. I open it, flipping the pages to find the last drawings I had done a few weeks ago.

I look at the Concordia daemon I had drawn with her delicate wings. Zaid with his dove gray aura that I was able to blend to a perfect shade to match his real one. And finally… Carrick. That moment he first laid eyes on me and the unmistakable loathing that was there in his expression.

My hand presses flat against the drawing and I slide it downward, smudging his likeness so I can’t see the hate as clearly. Then my fingers press hard, get purchase on the paper, and I draw them inward, crumpling the paper. I squish it hard and rip it from the journal, balling it up tightly.

As I rise from the bed, my journal falls to the floor and I move across the room to my desk. I drop the drawing in the wastebasket, hoping the symbolic act will help erase Carrick’s memory. Help scrub away his heavy presence that has left an indelible mark over the past month.

Yet, I have the strangest sensation he’s closer to me than ever.

For a moment, I think it’s just emotions surfacing and perhaps part of me rebelling against wanting to cut him from my life. But then, with utter clarity, I suddenly realize he is close by.

I can feel him.

Whipping toward my door, I expect to see him standing there, but it’s firmly closed. I pivot back to my window where the blinds are shut, narrowing my eyes.

Surely not.

Casting my room in darkness by flipping off the overhead light, I creep over to the window. Gently, I put my fingers between the thin plastic slats and pull them up barely an inch so I can peek out.

At the end of my driveway stands a lone figure too heavily shadowed to see his face with any detail. But I can tell based on the height, build, and gnawing intuition in my gut that it’s Carrick.

He stands with his legs spread slightly, and he holds his hands up with palms facing my house. It’s the exact same stance he had tonight facing the elevators. Although I can’t see his face at all, I know he’s murmuring words that would sound like gibberish to me.

And suddenly it hits me what he was doing at the elevators. Back in his condo, I was still too deep in the throes of grief and anguish to really give it much thought, but the foreign words I now remember not understanding and the way he held his hands up, I realize he was casting some sort of protective spell on the elevators. I can only assume he was afraid the evil Fallon could potentially come after me.

Now here he is, standing before my home, and I know he’s doing the same thing. Casting some sort of protective measure over this house so his precious little prophecy breaker won’t get hurt and be of no use to him down the road.

I should have known this would happen. It was too easy tonight when he just let me walk out of his condo, especially since he had the power to make me stay if he wanted.

Carrick clearly has powerful magic.

A servant of the gods is what he called himself. They must have gifted him, making their lackey special enough to carry out their biddings.

And they’ve promised him further reward for helping me.

My hackles rise as I understand Carrick thinks I’m his to control. I’m sure he thinks he can force me to help with this prophecy.

The figure at the end of my driveway drops his hands, then turns slightly my way. His head tips back a bit, which would mean he was looking at the second floor of my home. My window is the only one visible to the street.

Carrick stares at me for what seems like forever. I don’t make a move to drop the one-inch space of blinds, feeling that would be like letting him win. Instead, I keep my eyes pinned on him until he casually turns and starts walking down the street, eventually melting into the darkness.

I release the blind. Not bothering with pajamas, I flop onto my bed and kick off my tennis shoes. Curling onto my side, I draw my knees up and hug my pillow tight.

I’m scared.

I’m sick at heart.

I’m alone.

But despite all of that, the one thing I will not do is be forced to participate in any of this. It’s time for me to disappear for a bit in the hope this will all blow over.