The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

Of course, the thought of doing hand-to-hand, which leads to some grappling and wrestling on the floor, doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to me.

I actually snort thinking about that, and Titus tips his head in question.

I shake mine, not willing to share that thought, and instead smile. “I get it. Thank you for all you’ve taught me since, because of you, I’ll at least have a fighting chance out there.”

“More than a fighting chance, Finley Porter,” Titus says, pulling me into a one-armed hug that could easily snap my neck if he so chose to do. “My money is on you to save the world. Now let me get the target set up for the knives.”

Titus moves to the far end of the gym, where a lone wooden cabinet hangs on the wall. It’s shallow and has two doors, which he pulls wide open to reveal a round bullseye target about two feet in diameter and made of wood. Titus mounted it higher than my frame to more closely resemble the height of enemies I might be facing. Apparently, most Dark Fae and daemons are big.

Because the circles painted on the target weren’t overly helpful, Titus had used a Sharpie marker to draw two eyes near the center of the top ring and a red “X” about four inches down.

As a reminder, he taps the eyes first. “Strike right between the eyes.” Then he taps the red “X”. “Or land that knife here… in the throat.”

I bend over, pick up the knife I dropped, and move over to a spot on the wooden floor marked with some blue painter’s tape. Transferring three of the knives to my left hand, I take the fourth and hold the blade with the handle pointed toward the target.

Titus, in a show of confidence that I won’t hit him, doesn’t move away.

I take a deep breath, adjust my stance, and cock my arm. Letting my lungs release, I use my wrist to snap the knife away and watch it flip end over end until it sticks in the target.

Right at the middle of the bullseye, which would be about chest level.

“That would be the equivalent of a flea bite to a fae,” Titus remarks dryly. “You can’t pierce breastbone with those knives.”

I know this as he had instructed me before. But that was just my first toss.

For the next three knives, I get successfully closer until my last one strikes the throat area. Titus moves to pull them out and walks them over to me. “Again.”

I hold the knives loosely as Titus moves back near the target, and why this question is even important in the grand scheme of things, I ask him, “Are you married, or do you have a girlfriend?”

Titus turns, eyebrows lifted in surprise before a lopsided grin lands on his face. “I didn’t know you thought of me that way, Finley.”

I roll my eyes in response. “I don’t. It’s just… I’m curious how you make something like that work when you can theoretically live forever? Does that mean you could only ever be in a relationship with another human from Semper Terra who doesn’t age either?”

There is no doubt that I think I’m sly with my questions since I’m only showing a mild interest in societal roadblocks immortals might have.

But the look on Titus’ face tells me I’m way too transparent.

“Never mind,” I mutter, moving back to the tape and putting a knife in my right hand.

I’m concentrating on the bullseye so hard that Titus’ soft voice jars me. “Carrick’s not built for relationships, Finley.”

My gaze slams to him and I open my mouth to deny it, but he continues. “He’s lived far too long and been through so many awful things that he doesn’t have the capacity if that makes sense.”

I think he might be wrong about that, but he has more to say. His voice is tender with empathy as he points out the real issue. “It could never work between an immortal and a mortal. You’re a Buffy fan. You knew it was impossible between Buffy and Angel.”

“That’s because her true love was Spike,” I mutter, my eyes cast down to the floor.

“Regardless, where is the future in it?” Titus points out. “You’d have a handful of years before you got old, and he didn’t. How hard would it be for both of you to part ways after making a relationship? Or, God forbid, he stays with you until you die… what will that do to him?”

And this is where my hope lies because neither of those things applies in our situation. “Carrick wants to ascend.”

Titus frowns, taking a few strides to come back to me. “What’s that?”

“It’s where he asks the gods that made him to unmake him, so he’ll just cease to exist. It will be his reward if he helps me thwart the prophecy. He’s done with his life.”