“Touché,” he replies with a grin.
When Titus and I leave the gym, he locks up. We part ways, walking in opposite directions. My car is in a garage the next block over, and I have no clue where Titus is going. For all I know, he returns home to Semper Terra each evening.
I make it only half a block before the emotions hit me again. That call by Fallon who is not Fallon at all. That person was not my sister. That person also scares the shit out of me. Seems like I have a reprieve from at least having to worry about talking to Fallon or seeing her. Maybe I’ll have more time to grieve or even get past some of this denial she’s really dead, and I’ll be more fortified to handle her when she gets back.
Or the prophecy could enact, and I could be dead before she returns.
Two extremes, both plausible.
My eyes sting as my hope I’ll ever get my sister back dwindles, but I blink my eyes rapidly so the tears don’t fall. I’ve already had my one crying session today with Titus, and now it’s time for me to get back to my regular life.
CHAPTER 7
Finley
It’s been eight long days since Fallon changed into a Dark Fae. Four days since she’d left me a voicemail saying she and Blain were taking an impromptu trip to Switzerland for some skiing. She has neither called nor texted me in that time, and I’ve certainly not reached out to her. Frankly, I’m terrified to start any type of conversation, afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and it will make her suspicious. The risk is too great that I’ll give myself away, merely through my fear and anxiety, and she’ll know that I know.
If that happens, then all bets are off, and I might have to consider fleeing.
As time has gone by and my sister hasn’t checked in to at least let me know she’s safe, coupled with the odd vacancy to her voice in the message she left and the things Carrick saw, it’s all just further proof there’s not a hint of my Fallon left.
Probably in vain, a part of me has thought about reaching out to Blain to see if he feels she’s acting strange, for, surely, he would have to know. But I’m not even sure how that call would go. While I have his number for emergency situations, we’ve never talked or texted once since he’s started dating my sister. That alone would be so out of the ordinary that if he told Fallon, it could make her suspicious of me.
In times like this, I’m glad that while we loved each other as sisters, we weren’t close to the point we contacted each other a lot despite living in the same city. The fact our lives were so radically different kept space between us. Also, the fact she was engaged to a douche kept me away, which is just more proof I shouldn’t reach out to Blain.
Since my withdrawal from Carrick and my refusal to do anything more than train with Titus, I’m trying to get back to my regular life. I’m working hard at the coffee shop and training with Titus, but I’ve changed things up a bit. I’m going into the coffee shop each day and home each night to cook for my roommates. This has been the easiest way for me to feel more normal, resuming the way we did things as a unit. We hang out at dinner, laugh, and eat good food, and they think all is great in my life. Sadly, I revel in that farce because I don’t like them worried about me. Being with Rainey, Myles, and Adira makes me feel merely like an ordinary person, which I love.
One other thing I’ve done this past week is I’ve even locked my abilities back down again. I refuse to look under glamours. If I feel dark vibes or fizzy feelings, I ignore them and refuse to see past the human visage of whatever fae or daemon stands before me.
My evenings after dinner are for Titus. My roommates think I’m doing work at the coffee shop—because I am, after all, a busy business owner. Every weeknight, I meet Titus at the gym Carrick bought and we continue to hone my fighting skills. And it is indeed more refinement than teaching of skills. Titus has shown me everything in his arsenal, so now all we do is practice to make me better. While we concentrate on my whip usage, we still spend at least an hour each night utilizing other weapons.
I even brought my nunchucks last night and showed him what I could do. I spent twenty minutes backing him up around the empty room while swirling my sticks. Titus is big and hard to hurt so I wasn’t holding back. I got in several strikes before he called a halt, then proclaimed me proficient in not only the whip but the nunchucks as well. While I don’t see how I’d ever use them, I resolved to carry them in my backpack with the whip.