The Revelation of Light and Dark (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 1)

Just beyond is the elevator, and it takes me directly to the penthouse. Unsurprisingly, Zaid is there waiting for me when the doors open.

He’s dressed the same—black pants, turtleneck, and loafers. His hands are clasped before him, and his wire-framed glasses do nothing to soften his expression that borders somewhere between annoyed and disapproving. I probe ever so gently to see if I can get a vibe from him or will his face to melt so I can see beneath, but I feel a solid wall up before him, so I back right off. Not in the mood for another blinding headache.

“Hi,” I say cheerily, sticking a hand up in greeting.

I get nothing in return but a curt nod before he says, “Follow me.”

Rather than going left through the cavernous living area, Zaid cuts right past the huge free-standing fireplace. On the other side of it, there’s a large dining table set that easily seats twenty. Beyond that, there’s a kitchen that’s all sleek blond wood, black granite, and stainless-steel appliances.

“Sit,” he says, causing me to jolt out of my awe-filled perusal of the kitchen and all its pretty playthings that my love of cooking automatically inspires.

Zaid points to a high stool at the kitchen island before moving to the other side. “Have you eaten?” he asks, placing his hands on the edge of the black granite top. His voice is sort of raspy as if he’s spent a great deal of his life screaming at others and damaged his vocal cords. It doesn’t make him seem pitiful, though. If anything, it enhances his surly demeanor.

I take a seat, rest my forearms on the countertop, and look around, ignoring his question. “Where’s Carrick?”

A sharp crack that makes my ears ring has me whipping around to Zaid, and I can tell he’s slammed his palm on the granite hard enough that had I done it, it would have undoubtedly broken my bones. I’d felt the vibration of his strike all the way through my arms on the surface just two feet away, and my ears are buzzing from the slap of his palm, which may have just broken the sound barrier.

Zaid just stares at me, his hand flat on the counter and not a hint of pain in his expression.

This teaches me my very first and probably most important lesson about daemons. They have incredible strength, even the ones who appear to be in their sixties. It’s not something I had considered—them being stronger than humans—and a slight tremor of fear rolls through me.

“Let’s try this again.” His eyes are cold, his jaw locked tight. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” I reply without hesitation, feeling shamed he’s had to call me on the carpet.

“Very good,” he says, a hard look aimed at me despite the words of praise. “I demand manners at the very least. I’ll fix you a sandwich as we have a long night ahead of us. From here on out, make sure you arrive with your belly full. I don’t have time to cater to you.”

I hold my tongue for the moment. I’d like to tell him to “bite me” because I don’t expect anyone to cater to my needs. I’m the most self-sufficient person you’ll ever know. I watch Zaid as he moves to the refrigerator and takes out cold cuts, mayo, and lettuce. Once back at the counter, he slices a loaf of what looks to be homemade bread.

He pulls a plate out, then builds me a thick turkey sandwich. Again, I have to wonder if he’s really just here to serve Carrick’s personal needs. Why else would he feed me? He said he wasn’t a butler, but he’s definitely not Carrick’s equal.

Sliding the plate to me, his tone is curt when he says, “Eat quickly so we can begin.”

I pick up the sandwich, but I can’t help but ask, “Why don’t you like me?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he grouses irritably. “Don’t take it personally, and don’t ask such a stupid question. It’s a waste of your breath and my time.”

Yikes, he’s a real jerk. But I feel better knowing it’s not just me whom he dislikes.

Zaid turns his back on me, moving back to the refrigerator where he gets me a bottle of water. I mutter a thanks, uncap it, and take a swallow.

Before the next bite of my sandwich, I risk his ire and ask again, “Where’s Carrick?”

“Out.”

That actually pisses me off. He told me to be here at six. Well, if he expected me to be punctual, I expect the same. “And when might he be back?”

“That’s not your concern,” Zaid says as he puts away all the food items. Grabbing a cloth from the sink, he wipes the counter down, offering no more.

“Carrick said he’d be teaching me…”

My words trail off. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure really what Carrick planned to do. I have just a vague promise by him to help me figure out why I am the way I am and how to use my abilities better.