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

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Carrick mutters.

“Oh, it’s necessary,” she says, pushing up from her chair and moving toward the doorway. “You’re here for something a little different than what I offer.”

She disappears out the door and Carrick and I give each other a confused look before scrambling after her.

Across the hall, she knocks on an actual door and without waiting for a reply, she turns the knob and pushes it open.

“Stan,” Madame Beaulieu says, the French accent now gone. “You have visitors from Lucien.”

Madame backs out, motioning us in. Carrick takes the lead, stepping over the threshold and I follow.

It looks like a small living room with paneled walls and shag carpet. There’s a couch on one wall, entertainment system on the other, and a reclining chair. A cheap lamp on a table beside the recliner—sans beads or scarfs—with an open beer on it.

In the recliner sits a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a bit of a gut—presumably Stan. He’s wearing sweatpants, a long-sleeved Mariners shirt, and dirty socks.

He swivels his head our way, and I immediately feel a mellow buzzing coming from him. I open up, will his glamour to fade away, and find myself looking at another dazzlingly handsome fae.

Presumably light since I got the buzzy feeling and definitely not daemon as there’s no aura surrounding him.

I’m completely flabbergasted he would cloak himself in a mediocre glamour when he’s quite stunning underneath. Human in appearance with nearly flawless features, but those features are exaggerated to be almost superior in their beauty.

Dark hair in shaggy layers, crystal-blue eyes, and a face that would make women swoon. He reminds me of the royal fae in that bar Carrick took me to, having too perfect of a face. But whereas that fae was pale, this one has tanned skin with a golden shimmer.

The fae pushes the recliner into a sitting position and stands, gesturing at Carrick. “You’re Lucien’s brother?”

Carrick nods.

Stan glances toward the door we came through. “Sorry… I forgot to tell Patty you were coming.”

Patty. I snort at the ordinary name and her patently untrue prediction of my life.

“What can I do for you?” Stan asks, his stance a little off-putting as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Carrick nods at me. “I need you to see if you can divine anything about her future.”

Stan sneers at me, his perfectly full upper lip curling. “She’s human. What could be so important in her future?”

I’m absolutely offended by his condescending tone and the way he made human sound like the equivalent of garbage. Carrick doesn’t defend me, though and with an almost bored tone, he says, “Finley… why don’t you show Stan what you can do? Describe him.”

Stan frowns, and I know Carrick wants me to show him my abilities. I smile sweetly. “Let’s see… Stan is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, which are a bit large on him as they aren’t needed to cover the nonexistent beer gut he wears in his glamour.”

“What the hell?” Stan murmurs, arms falling away from his chest.

“Dark hair, blue eyes, and his skin has a bit of a gold shimmer to it.” I don’t offer anymore. It’s enough to prove that while I might be human, I am not ordinary.

“How is she doing that?” Stan asks.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he replies, his gaze returning to me. “She appears fully human, yet can see beneath glamours, which no human can do. Lucien thought since you can see the future, you might see something that gives us a hint of why she has this ability.”

I wondered why Carrick was interested in my future. This explanation does make sense to see if we can glean helpful information that way. But there’s something I’m sensing—call it more gut instinct—that there’s more to the reason Carrick wants to know about my future than he’s letting on. I’m sure of it, and it only goes to increase my distrust of him.

Unless his reasons for doing what he does is altruistic and truly to protect me, but I just can’t believe in that because of how clearly he dislikes me.

“You can see the future?” I ask to get my mind elsewhere. I’m tired of constantly worrying about Carrick’s motives. “Like for real and not the sham stuff like Patty?”

“Patty’s not a sham,” Stan replies with an admonishing tone. “But yes… I can see glimpses, or sometimes, it’s more like feelings.”

“Tell us what you see with her,” Carrick orders. Stan doesn’t hesitate, clearly now curious about my oddity.

Stan steps in, taking my hands the way Patty did. But he doesn’t sway, chant, or seize for dramatic effect. He merely stares into my eyes for a long time before dropping his hold on me.

He gives a disgruntled shake of his head. “I don’t see anything about her specifically, but I feel something strong. I just can’t tell if that feeling is actually associated with her.”