I’m so excited by this discovery, I go tearing down the stairs and come to a skidding stop at the bottom. Rows and rows of cherry-wood bookcases that stretch in both directions that look to take up the entire floor, each one filled to the brim with leatherbound books of various sizes. There are no windows on this floor, just mahogany paneled walls, yet it’s not dark down here at all. Hanging chandeliers hover over each row of shelves and sconces on the walls give a cheery glow.
Just off to the left is a large conference room table that seats ten, upon which several books are scattered, along with three bankers lamps interspersed down the middle to provide reading light. To the right, a comfy reading nook with two plush chairs in blue velvet with an ottoman before a fireplace. In between the chairs, a beautiful crystal floor lamp with a table base built around the stem. The perfect place to kick back with a good book and get lost.
I study Carrick as he casually comes down behind me. “This is the entire floor below yours, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” he agrees. “No one knows about it but Zaid and now you.”
“Establishing trust,” I murmur appreciatively. I sweep my hand out. “What are all these books?”
Carrick scans the area, a hint of pride on his face. “Mostly history books about any culture or civilization you could ever want to know about from the dawn of modern man. There’s also a huge collection on the north side of books on magic, mystics, fae, and stone-created realms.
Turning the other way, he nods. “On the south side are my personal journals. A historical chronicle of my life.”
This amazes me, and my eyes flare wide. “And just how long is that life?”
“Almost five thousand years, give or take a few decades,” he replies as a wave of dizziness passes over me. I know the gods are far older than he, because he said they’ve been in existence since the beginning of time, which is a whole lot older than five thousand years. I also know fae and immortals are ancient as well, but I never asked just how ancient. Hearing that Carrick is almost five thousand freaking years old is something I’m not prepared to process right in this moment.
Perhaps sensing I might be in overload, Carrick takes my elbow and leads me over to the reading nook, easing me down into a chair. He doesn’t wait for me to ask questions. Instead, he launches into what he presumes I want to know as a good-faith showing of trust.
“I was created by the gods in the year 2836 BCE,” he begins, and I do what I do best.
Blurt out an interruption. “BCE?”
To my surprise, Carrick’s expression remains patient. “Before the Common Era. It’s the same as BC meaning Before Christ.”
I did not know that, but I tuck it away. It’s enough to know he’s—by my rough calculations—4,855 years old.
I have more important questions though. “Created? What does that mean? Do they have sex and birth you? Form you from clay and blow life into you?”
“I don’t know,” Carrick replies with a casual shrug. “As far as I know… I just… was.”
I frown. This is so contrary to everything I know about the supernatural. Even fae—outside the original fallen angels—and daemons are born. “Are the gods your parents?”
“No. Not in any way. You can think of them more like my masters.”
“You’re a slave?”
“I was created to serve at their will,” he replies, and it all comes racing back to me.
That night my sister turned into a Dark Fae and Carrick told me about the prophecies and the gods, I had asked him then what he was.
And his reply was, “I am but a servant of the gods.”
I had thought he meant that he was a human lackey for them. Not an immortal they had fashioned.
“What do you do for them?” I murmur, hating to think this man has essentially slaved himself for the gods for thousands of years.
“I serve their whims,” he replies with a hint of bitterness. “Sometimes, that can be aiding in prophecies, but mostly in the ancient times, it meant fighting in their wars. Being invincible and leading an army into battle is quite the advantage.”
“And your brothers… Maddox and Lucien? Are they demi-gods?”
Carrick nods. “Created around the same time as me. We have fought many battles together.”
My gaze drifts off to the side, staring at the beautiful hardwood floors that resemble the ones upstairs. I have a million questions, and I’m trying to sort them in an order that will put Carrick and what type of man—I mean, god—he is into context for me.
“You said you were invincible going into battles,” I say as I turn my focus back on him. “What exactly does that mean? What can you do?”