Sarvel shakes her head, clearly not understanding what I’m talking about, and so I lean over and wiggle up my jeans to show her. She studies it only a moment before looking back at me. “I didn’t give that to you.”
“Then who did?”
“I expect you gave it to yourself when Kymaris changed. You probably tapped your power somehow.”
“But why?” Carrick ponders. “She didn’t even know who or what Kymaris was.”
“It tingles when I use the power,” I muse. “Maybe I subconsciously brought it forth so I would know something was inside me?”
So many questions and what-ifs.
“I think I’ve answered all that I can,” Sarvel says, nodding toward the door. “I have gardening I need to attend.”
“Of course,” I say, my natural politeness coming forth. Carrick and I both stand and head toward the door.
“But,” Sarvel says as if she was relishing this moment. When she opens her hand, what looks like an old piece of parchment paper, not bigger than a few inches long and wide on each side, is on her palm. “This just came to me a few moments ago.”
I eyeball it suspiciously. “Came to you?”
She grins and lifts her shoulders. “I just know that I’m supposed to give it to you.”
I look to Carrick, and he steps forward to take the paper from her palm.
“It’s a name,” he says, holding it out for me to read.
The writing is done in swooping, thin calligraphy. “Otto Von Schmidt. Changelings.”
Carrick and I exchange a glance, neither of us knowing what to make of it.
Sarvel nods at it. “I just knew that you needed that name because you need to know more about changelings.”
“Thank you,” I say, although I’m not sure why I’m giving her gratitude. She’s just doing her job but not because she cares for me, only because that’s what she was created for.
Carrick pockets the paper, and we turn to leave. As we’re walking down the porch steps, she calls out from inside her door, “I’ll be seeing you around, although you won’t see me.”
“She’s a riot,” I mutter as we make our way to the car.
I’m shocked as Carrick comes to the passenger side with me and opens the Bugatti’s door. My eyes move to his face, but he’s not even paying me attention. He’s lost in thought, and this move of chivalry was probably made subconsciously.
Whatever.
We get in the car, turn around in her driveway, unfortunately needing to use her pretty lawn to do so—which I don’t think Carrick minded in the slightest—and head back toward Seattle.
Several miles into the trip back, I open the conversation. “So, we need to know more about changelings. Something about that event is going to be important.”
“So many things to figure out,” Carrick replies, but he sounds distracted.
“What are you thinking?” I press.
His head turns to look my way for a moment before putting his eyes back on the road. “I think that while the name is important, it’s equally important who put that piece of paper in Sarvel’s hand.”
“Didn’t fate put it there?” I ask because I’m still not sure I even understand anything about this whole Custodia angel thing.
“More likely a god,” Carrick replies flatly. “Custodia angels are nothing more than the god’s servants, just like the demi-gods. Sarvel can go on and on all she wants about things just coming to her and knowing when to do something, but I am betting she’s more like chess pieces on a board, and it’s one of the gods controlling her movements.”
Eyes flaring with astonishment, I twist in my seat. “Which means they are interfering with the prophecy.”
“Maybe,” he admits. “Or maybe these Custodia angels are already planned out, including every little move they make. Maybe it was preordained that, at some point, the name would get in her hand to give to you.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I murmur, settling back into my seat.
I can feel Carrick’s eyes on me, but I don’t look his way. But he agrees by saying, “Indeed.”
CHAPTER 9
Finley
After our visit with Sarvel, Carrick drops me off at the condo, and, with a terse, “I’ve got some things to do,” guns his Bugatti back out onto the street and disappears. I have no clue what he’s doing—real work or supernatural work—but oddly, I didn’t care. My head is still swimming with the new information we learned. On the way back into the city, Carrick called Zaid and got him working on researching this Otto Von Schmidt, a very modern and odd name for someone who might know about changeling rituals.
To no one’s surprise, Lucien is waiting in the lobby as he must be my assigned babysitter in Carrick’s place. I’m still not allowed to leave the condo unless I have one of the demi-god brothers with me, which didn’t bother me all that much at first. I was shaken up for a bit after nearly being melted alive, but now I’ve settled into accepting my destiny. I have a purpose and now an angel looking over me. I have to believe that if I die, it’s because I’m supposed to at that moment. It seems a bit ridiculous to have watchdogs on me.