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

“Wrong,” he declares. “I’m doing nothing, but you’re more scared than ever. Now, let go of the fear and try it again.”

“I can’t,” I moan, my head now dully throbbing.

“You can,” he growls.

I narrow my eyes. “How do you know? You don’t know anything about me.”

“Now, there you’re wrong,” he says with a nasty smile. “Without a doubt, I know you have the ability. If you manage to get under my glamour, I might even show you how I know that.”

I tilt my head, seeing Zaid differently. His insinuation sparks something within me. I can tell he has some power or ability to know things. I can suddenly feel it, like a low thrumming vibration emanating off him.

It’s not dark and sinister, but it’s not a delightfully buzzy feeling either.

It’s something in between.

You can do this, Finley.

There is nothing to be scared of.

Straightening, I lock my spine and tightly clench my fists. I suck in a breath and hold it, then focus all my strength, energy, and willpower on Zaid’s face.

Once again, my legs turn to jelly as my head nearly explodes with pain. “Goddamn it,” I shriek, clapping my hands to the side of my head and bending forward. I feel like I’m going to puke.

Quietly, Zaid watches me. After a few breaths, I straighten.

He merely nods. “Again.”

CHAPTER 12

Finley

It’s Monday and for the fourth night in a row, I’m heading straight from One Bean to Carrick’s condo. I nibble on a cheese danish—a wholly unhealthy dinner—as I navigate the streets over to The Prestige. I have no clue what will happen or what my next lesson will be.

Last night, on the third straight evening of working with Zaid, I made my breakthrough on his glamour. As usual, when I arrived, Carrick was not there, and I’d stopped being irritated by that fact. I’d gotten used to Zaid—as much as someone can get used to a person with his constant surly disposition—and was completely fine with him continuing my lessons.

Instead of leading me into the living area, he had me follow him into the kitchen where I immediately noticed a bottle of vodka on the table with a single shot glass. I was slightly surprised as it’s my liquor of choice, although I’m not a big drinker. I figured it was a lucky guess.

Or maybe Zaid knew that about me, like he intimated he knew me on a personal level. He also promised to tell me how he knew things about me if I could break through his glamour.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the vodka.

“A way to make you feel uninhibited,” he replied in that raspy voice. “We’ll see if we can relax you enough to lower your defenses.”

“You’re going to get me drunk?” I asked dubiously.

He neither confirmed nor denied his intent. Instead, he pointed at the liquor and said, “Drink.”

I started with two repetitive shots, waited ten minutes, and tried to see beneath his veil. I couldn’t see anything but his regular pinched face, but my head didn’t hurt as bad, which bolstered me a bit.

After the third shot, there was no pain whatsoever, and his skin actually started to flicker with transparency, but I couldn’t quite get it to hold.

The fourth shot did the trick. I was completely buzzed, totally confident, and the vodka had removed my fears. Despite my inebriation, my focus felt keen, and with almost no effort at all Zaid’s skin turned completely transparent and his daemon self came forth.

I think I had honestly expected something off-putting to match his cranky personality, but he was actually fairly human-looking. In fact, his daemon form resembled his human one, except some features were more exaggerated. He was completely bald. While his brow was more prominent and his cheeks sunken into an unnatural hollowness, he was clearly recognizable as Zaid. He even had the same dark, beady eyes and the same lips pressed in continual dissatisfaction.

What surprised me, though, was that his aura was neither a bright glow nor a sludgy oil, but rather was a dove-gray color that shimmered slightly.

I had a million questions, but I was drunk and Zaid was not in the mood. He offered me a curt congratulations, commanded me to be here at the same time the next day, and ordered an Uber to drive me home.

Before I left though, I demanded he tell me how he knew things about me. I reminded him that he had promised me that first night he would if I could break through his glamour.

“I’m an empath,” he’d said flatly. “I know exactly what you’re feeling and how your emotions guide you. You’d be surprised what I can glean from that.”

I supposed when I sobered up, I’d think of more questions to ask, but I only had one more. “And the vodka? How did you know that’s what I drink?”