Carrick inches forward on his chair, perching on the end of the seat with his elbows on his knees. It puts him closer to me as he leans forward. “I’m immortal to the extent it’s practically impossible to kill me. I can recover any wound unless you separate my head from my body and carry it a continent away, but, even then, the gods might put me back together so I can continue to serve them. But there is one sure way I can be killed, and that is by my creators. I imagine it can be done with a snap of their fingers if they so desired.”

That made Carrick more powerful than fae. A thought strikes. “What about magical abilities?”

“Obviously, you know I have some.” His eyes bore into mine without blinking. He wants me to know he is putting everything out on the table. “The gods granted a diluted version of their own powers. My strength makes me nearly indomitable. I can do protection spells and conjure items from nothing. I can compel humans to do my bidding, as you’ve seen, and I’m resistant to fae and daemon powers.”

I wonder if Carrick has ever used the power of compulsion on a woman, but looking at him now—the perfectness of him—I know that’s ridiculous.

“Can you bend distance?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Move between realms?”

“Yes.”

Frowning, I ask, “Why did you need Stan to bring me to Faere?”

“Because while I can move freely in and out, I cannot bring a human into Faere. It would have killed you because Nimeyah created it that way. Other realms are more lenient.”

At this point, I’m thinking Carrick is about the most badass person I’ve seen since meeting Veda, but one thing doesn’t make sense.

“If you’ve got the power of the gods, and it seems you’re stronger and harder to kill than the strongest fae, how come your protection spell on my house was broken?”

Carrick’s face clouds, and I can tell I’m not the only one bothered by this. “There are a few ways it could have been done. My guess is with pooled magic strengthened with some sort of sacrifice. More unlikely is that whoever brought it down has a stone, but those are virtually nonexistent and haven’t been seen for thousands of years. Lastly, and the most unlikely, is that one of the gods did it.”

“But they’re not supposed to interfere,” I point out.

“Not in the prophecy directly, but you’ve seen for yourself by your visit with Veda that they don’t always keep their noses out of things.”

“But if a god did it, that meant someone wanted to hurt me,” I say, a fearful shiver running up my spine.

“Perhaps,” he muses, but he doesn’t provide any clarity to that hypothetical.

I slouch in my chair, blowing out a breath of frustration. I want to know so much, yet I’m so overwhelmed by it all I can’t think clearly.

Carrick nods over my shoulder at the stacks of books he indicated were his journals. “You are free to read any of my journals if you want. In your free time if there is any.”

My eyebrows rise, and I straighten. “Really?”

He smiles, tipping his head. “It’s mostly boring recollections of battles, but yes… feel free.”

“I can’t imagine how you’ve had to re-invent yourself over the centuries,” I murmur, wondering how someone moves from lifetime to lifetime. Something I find incredibly interesting, but it’s late and we have other things to talk about.

“Let’s talk about Arwen,” I say, getting my head back in the game. I tell him that Arwen said I had a twin who was taken at birth and replaced by a changeling. Plus, there was an angel present, but she couldn’t tell who made the switch.

“Changelings are usually switches made child for child,” Carrick says. “I’ve read about them, but have never known one to actually happen.”

“She said my sister is still alive. In the Underworld.”

He hears my tone, reading the blatant need I have to put finding my sister first, and he shakes his head. “You have to focus on the prophecy, Finley. But I promise I will do everything in my power to help you find her.”

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat and trying to dismiss my lost twin from my thoughts. It’s too painful to think of her growing up in such an evil place.

“Arwen thinks the angel that was present gave me some sort of powers through this magical tattoo. She mentioned a light in me, just like Echo did, but she didn’t know what it meant. She has no clue what the prophecy is, but she’s confident the Dark Fae who took over Fallon is the key to it, just as I am. She suggested finding the angel should be our next move.”

“A guardian angel isn’t going to be easy to track,” Carrick says, tapping his finger against his jaw. “I’ve got some resources to tap, though. I agree. That has to be our next mission as he or she might be able to tell us why the changeling was placed.”

Tags: Sawyer Bennett Chronicles of the Stone Veil Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net