A flashback hit Carrick in the gut as he remembered her on top of him in the gym yesterday. She wasn’t smiling then, but her eyes were speaking a story he understood. And as much as he absolutely didn’t want her to kiss him, the moment her lips touched his, he knew he hadn’t been more thankful for anything in an exceedingly long time.
It was like sailing through a galaxy of stars on the night wind, and yet he cut it off as fast as it had started. He just couldn’t go there. Yes, he had to admit there was a deep connection and they were indeed fated, but it simply couldn’t happen. Her point about them both having an expiration date on their lives didn’t sway him because he knew even if he had only one night with her, it would spell the same disastrous consequences as if they had weeks or months together.
While he felt it was the right decision, he hated how much he was dwelling on it. Hated wondering if maybe there was the slightest of chances…
But no. He couldn’t have her.
Turning back toward his office, he decided to check in on Zaid down in the library. He spent more time down there than anyone, but even if he read every day for ten years, he’d never make it through them all. And they didn’t have ten years. They probably had weeks. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but his friend was nevertheless persistent.
Making his way through the secret passageway and down the spiral staircase, he immediately saw Zaid hunched over a book at the large table. His head came up at the sound of Carrick’s footsteps, and he lifted his chin in greeting before jotting down a note on a yellow pad.
“Find anything interesting?” Carrick asked as he kicked a chair out and slumped down in it.
The daemon lifted his gaze once more, already shaking his head. “There are more references to changelings than I thought there would be, but it’s all so contradictory. Some accounts merely say changelings are nothing more than dark tricks the fae play on humans. Some say it’s to be able to breach the veil in between realms. And, of course, some accounts back up what Arwen said… it’s to be a catalyst for great magic.”
“So, nothing definitive that will give us direction,” Carrick mused.
“The last such account was in the year 980 after the common era, where a Polish priest wrote about exorcising a demonic spirit from a young child. It was written by a Dark Fae who merely recorded the event as he thought it funny the priest had no idea it was a changeling.”
“And what happened to the kid?” Carrick wondered.
Zaid shrugged, pushing the book in front of him away in annoyance. “There’s nothing else about it. That’s all there is… little stories here and there with no obvious thread to glean any truth.”
Sighing in frustration, Carrick settled back into his chair. “Lucien called me a bit ago. Said he went by Fallon’s gallery, and it’s closed down. Windows have all been blacked out, the sign is gone, but there’s still some activity with daemons going in and out through the back.”
“I’m betting Kymaris has found a home somewhere,” Zaid pondered.
“She’d need something remote but within easy distance to the city if she’s recruiting.”
Zaid frowned as something occurred to him. “She won’t be doing anything in Fallon’s name, though. By closing up the gallery, she’s clearly letting that cover go.”
Carrick nodded, rubbing at his chin. “Especially with Blain missing, she won’t want prying police eyes on her. She’ll have a new human identity by now.”
Reaching across the table, Zaid grabbed a folded newspaper that had been sitting there and held it up. “You read this yet?”
Carrick had not, although he enjoyed reading the Seattle news each day. Time had just not been as plentiful since Finley Porter came into his life. “What’s in it?” Carrick asked.
“Article about Blain Stratherton,” Zaid replied, setting the paper back down. “Basically that he’s still missing and presumed dead. While they said the case is still open in Bern, Switzerland, it sounds like they’ve exhausted all avenues.”
“Only because they haven’t been looking for the Queen of the Underworld in connection with his murder,” Carrick said dryly.
Zaid came as close to laughing as Carrick had ever seen him, which was nothing more than a twitch of one corner of his mouth before he got it under control.
Carrick knew that he’d have to figure out Kymaris’ location sooner rather than later because it was always safest to keep enemies to the front rather than the rear. He’d put Maddox on it while he worked on finding Finley’s angel.
“I need to go to Rome,” Carrick announced.
“Angel lead?” Zaid surmised.
Nodding, Carrick explained that Rainey had found a small mention of a group of angels called Custodia, but it was from a very old manuscript written back in the 11th century and currently housed in the Vatican’s private libraries.