A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 2)

Besides, do I really want to bring them into my nightmare? How much of a disservice would I be doing to them by sharing the burden if they believed me?

There’s no good answer, so I need to quit thinking about it.

Deciding that a beer would taste good and a few might help me sleep tonight, I start to swing my legs off the chaise to head inside. Instead, I let out a short scream of surprise as I realize there’s a woman standing not three feet from my chair.

I don’t know where she came from. I’m on the top deck, and there’s no way up here except through the sliding doors that lead out from a game room and I most certainly did not hear them open.

A friend of Myles? Rainey? That has to be it.

Pressing my hand to my heart, I give a nervous laugh. “Sorry… you scared me. I’m Finley.”

“Yes, I know all about you,” the woman replies, and her lilting voice sounds like musical bells.

I tilt my head in curiosity, noting she has possibly the coolest hair I’ve ever seen. Black at the roots extending several inches and bleeding into a charcoal gray, then a light gray until the ends are white. It’s long, parted in the middle, and tucked behind her ears.

She’s dressed like a regular Seattleite, pretty much like me right now in jeans and a flannel, and she looks to be about my age.

“I’m sorry,” I say frowning. “But are you a friend of Myles or Rainey?”

The woman shakes her head. “I’m Veda.”

The minute she says her name, I go cold all over, and the coffee cup falls from my hand, shattering on the deck and causing the last bit to splash my legs.

I may have been in information overload when Carrick was educating me on the prophecy, but I distinctly remember him saying that name.

A member of The Council.

God of Humanity.

I wasn’t sure if it was a woman, the term god denoting a male being, but Veda did sound like a feminine name. But the really shocking part is how normal she looks—despite the cool hair. I guess I thought she’d dress a little more Roman or Greek-like, but I know that’s just the mythology of the gods I’ve learned throughout life.

“I see you know who I am,” she says in amusement and moves past me to sit in the chair Rainey had vacated. She leans forward, sniffs the empty martini glass, and wrinkles her nose.

When her gaze comes back to me, she motions to one of the other chairs at the table. “Please… come and sit with me. We have much to talk about.”

I look toward the sliding doors, wondering if I should try to make a break for it. I consider jumping overboard. Either of these options seem preferable to me, yet I find myself moving to do as she bids. I wonder if she’s compelling me the way Carrick did before, but her request was so nice, I think not.

She points to the chair adjacent to her and I sit hesitantly, perhaps not sure if I should still bolt.

“Relax, Finley,” she croons, and something about her voice causes a rush of calmness to flow through me. “I’m not here to hurt you. Only to talk.”

Slightly reassured, I settle in and place my clasped hands on the table. My body is so stiff with tension that I can feel a headache brewing at the base of my skull.

Veda stares at me, taking me in. Finally, she says, “You’re as pretty as ever.”

Which means she’s been spying on me. That raises my hackles, but she laughs and shakes her head. “I swear I haven’t.”

My eyes flare, and I inhale sharply. “You can read my mind?”

“I can,” she replies simply. “But if you ask me not to, I won’t.”

“Please don’t,” I blurt out.

She inclines her head. “As you wish.”

Her gaze moves out over the water, across to Mount Rainier, which is starting to fade with dusk, and then back to me. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so lonely and isolated.”

“You said you wouldn’t read my mind,” I accuse.

“I won’t from here on out,” she says with a reassuring smile. “But I peeked in before I revealed myself to you.”

Damn… that’s exactly what I’d been thinking before she appeared.

And there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what she did… just appeared out of thin air. But I imagine there’s not anything a god can’t do.

Or so I assume.

“Why exactly are you here?” I ask, ignoring the sympathy she just extended me. “Because if Carrick asked you—”

“He didn’t. I’m here of my own accord.”

“Why?” I demand. “He said the gods aren’t going to help in the prophecy.”

“And I won’t,” she says demurely. “I’m here to help you personally.”

I’m immediately suspicious. While this god seems nice and all, I put her in the same category as Carrick.