A Battle of Blood and Stone, Page 2

  Maddox holds it up. “Looks like Boral’s information was good.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less likely he sent the wraith after her,” Zaid points out.

  “But he’s no more a suspect than any other fae out there,” I reiterate.

  “Food,” Maddox barks. “Let’s get back to the condo, and we can get the Scooby Gang to research this some more.”

  My Scooby Gang. I loved it when Maddox referred to Rainey and Myles by that moniker because it wasn’t just cute, but it meant he saw them as a true part of our team.

  “All together now,” Maddox says, lining up shoulder to shoulder with Zaid and me.

  Normally, humans can’t bend distance, but I’m apparently the exception because of the light powers Sarvel the Custodia angel gave me. Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried tapping into my light powers to use them as a weapon with little success. As evidenced tonight, I can manage a fairly good bubble shield but past that, I haven’t even been able to get my fingertips to spark.

  I have, however, gotten very proficient with bending distance. I could jump across small spaces before, but now I can move between continents. During those times when I’d miss Carrick the most, I’d envision a place and bend distance to go there. I’d never stay more than a few minutes because I know it’s not the safest for me to be on my own, and then I’d head right back to my bed.

  I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower at night.

  The northern lights in Fairbanks.

  The Great Pyramid of Giza that once covered the magical meteor.

  Brief visits, just to hone my skills and let me have a few moments of wonder to distract me.

  I stand close to Maddox, prepared to pull Seattle to me, but I don’t need his help.

  For that matter, neither does Zaid.

  As a daemon, Zaid doesn’t ordinarily have the power to bend distance on his own, but the trip alone won’t kill him since he’s immortal. He could easily have held on to Maddox or me, and we could have pulled him along. As it happens, though, it helps to have friends in high places. Given that he and Carrick are as tight as two friends can be, Carrick bestowed certain magical benefits on him. One was to bend distance, but it had nothing to do with allowing Zaid to travel freely. Rather, Carrick gave Zaid the ability purely as an escape mechanism for when his father found him, as Boral was forever trying to get Zaid to return to the fold.

  Zaid’s history with his father is brutal and so savage, I hate to even think about it. Zaid and his years of murdering and maiming alongside his father, Boral, eventually weighed too heavily upon him. The empathic power inherited from his Light Fae mother caused him to become so despondent over his actions, he left his father and attempted to punish himself by crucifying his body to a tree with iron.

  Luckily, Carrick found Zaid and changed his life for the better.

  These days, he reluctantly gives his father small bits of his time as long as Boral is on his best behavior. Of course, Zaid and Maddox don’t think Boral is capable of being good, which feeds their inherent mistrust of him.

  “I’m thinking pastrami sandwiches when we get back,” Maddox says, glancing past me to Zaid.

  “You’ll have to run to the deli,” Zaid returns.

  I just smile.

  Here we are in a spooky cemetery in Hungary, having just battled a wraith to the death, and in possession of an ancient magical relic, yet these two are talking about pastrami.

  It’s things like this that actually help to keep me balanced through the craziness.

  CHAPTER 2

  Finley

  Carrick’s condo is quiet. I’m lying on one of the couches in the living area, head resting on a throw pillow. I’ve got one foot planted on a cushion with my knee raised, the opposite ankle propped on said knee. I’m holding my phone before me, playing Candy Crush.

  I’ve been here for almost an hour and a half. Other than to switch legs when one started to fall asleep, I haven’t moved.

  Here I am, supposedly the savior of the world who is destined to stop an evil prophecy, and I’m doing nothing but playing a game on my phone.

  I could be researching down in the library, except I did that for four hours this morning and my brain hurts.

  I could go to the gym and train, except I did that before the research.

  I could walk over to One Bean and check on the rebuild, but there’s no need. Rainey is overseeing it like a champ, and I get daily emails detailing the progress. She also sends along pictures and video.

  And these are the borders of my existence. Outside of the occasional adventurous jaunt such as the one we made to Hungary three days ago, my life has become positively boring.

  Rainey does such a tremendous job with One Bean that I’m wondering if she’ll want to buy the shop from me.

  Not that I want to sell it, but more like why even bother having it? If I’m more than likely going to die in this prophecy, what’s the point in even having an interest in it anymore? Of course, what would I do with the money such a sale would generate, assuming Rainey could come up with said money? I don’t want anything, and, even if I did, I wouldn’t have the time to use it.

  Rather, I’d best be served to name her as my beneficiary and give it to her in my will.

  I pause, my finger hovering over a red candy I was getting ready to switch with a blue. Shit… I need a will. I own property—the house and the coffee shop—and without Fallon to inherit it, I have no clue what would happen if I died without an estate plan.

  The sudden thrill I feel at the idea of needing to see an attorney to create a will is sad, but at least it’s something to do that’s important.

  “Are you as bored as I am?” Zaid asks as he walks in from the general direction of the kitchen, which is his domain.

  I’ve learned more about Zaid over these last few weeks that Carrick has been gone than I have in the almost three months I’ve known him. I used to think he was Carrick’s servant since he was always cooking and doing other odd jobs.

  Turns out, he’s not a servant at all. Rather, he’s just a loyal friend who happens to love being in the kitchen.

  He’s also smart, crafty, and overly pigheaded about some things.

  Most of all, I consider him a friend now, and I think he feels the same about me.

  “So bored,” I reply as I exit out of my game. I sit up on the couch, settling against the cushions and crossing my legs Indian-style. Zaid plops in a chair on the other side of the coffee table.

  As usual, he’s dressed all in black and looks perpetually pissed off and disdainful. I’ve realized, though, Zaid just has a resting bitch face that doesn’t necessarily match his mood. Although, granted… he is grumpy a lot.

  Without Carrick around, he seems as lost as I do, and dare I say we’ve bonded since Rune took Carrick. Since then, we’ve talked about a lot of things. I’ve gingerly poked into his background, particularly where Boral’s concerned. In turn, Zaid tried to get me to open up about Carrick, but that’s been a difficult feat to achieve since I don’t even know how I feel about him.

  Because he’s gone and I’m completely in the dark, which is a horrible place to be.

  “Who takes care of Carrick’s businesses when he’s gone like this?” I query out of the blue, something I wondered but had been afraid to know the answer to. Why I have the guts to ask it now is beyond me.

  Maybe it’s the boredom.

  Zaid shrugs. “Each company has presidents and vice presidents, and they’re all fully capable of handling matters. I assume he’s passing on instructions to them.”

  And there it is. The real reason I’ve avoided this particular question because I knew the answer would infuriate me.

  I can’t help but sound petulant. “He has time to reach out to his businesses but not to me?”

  “It’s not like that, Finley,” Zaid chastises. “If Carrick hasn’t reached out to us, it’s for a good reason. Trust me on that.”

  “Trust you on that?” I ask incredulously.


  “I know Carrick, so—”

  “See, that’s just it,” I snap harshly, throwing my hands out to the side in frustration. “I don’t know him. Apparently, I’ve fallen in love with him over and over again throughout history, yet I don’t know a damn thing about him. You might trust him, but don’t ask me to.”

  “You’re angry,” Zaid says dismissively. “I get it.”

  “You get it?” I reply with a frown. I’m confused why he’s not defending Carrick more.

  “I get it.”

  We commence a staring match, but I resolutely refuse to continue with my rant. Zaid said he gets me, so why bother?

  “Do you want to talk about what happened on the patio that night?” Zaid asks cautiously, his voice soft and conciliatory. I almost want to laugh because it’s so… anti-Zaid.

  We haven’t talked a lot about what happened. Zaid found me on the patio, completely freaked out, and I became a sobbing mess. He held me in his arms while I got it out of my system.

  He then led me inside, made me tea, and asked what happened. I didn’t have it in me to tell him anything but the very basics.

  I was the reincarnated love of Carrick’s life, and Rune stole him away.

  That was the nutshell of it, and Zaid didn’t push for details. He had merely said, “I’m glad Carrick finally told you.”

  Which meant Zaid knew all about mine and Carrick’s history. I assume his brothers do, too.

  To address Zaid’s question now, no… I don’t want to talk about what happened on the patio because I have never been deluged with such a myriad of gut-wrenching emotions as I had when I learned about my history, and I didn’t feel like facing them again.

  But I do have curiosities.

  I can’t help it.

  “I’ve read some of Carrick’s journals,” I say hesitantly, my gaze going to my clasped hands. “They don’t mention me that I can tell.”

  “No, they wouldn’t,” Zaid says without any apology for his friend. My head pops up so I can see him, and his expression turns empathetic. Not a hard thing for Zaid as he is part empath. “Carrick would never write about you because he didn’t want anyone knowing about you. He didn’t want any of his enemies to know about your existence in case it put you in danger. It was bad enough Rune had cursed you to die early and reincarnate. Carrick didn’t want to make it worse on you.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, something flickering warmly in my heart for the first time in two weeks. It’s been so easy just to believe Carrick has abandoned me. Plus, after he basically told me I was the absolute love of his life, to find he had never once written about me in his journals that covered the time we had together had me feeling such a disconnect from him.

  “I have stories I can tell you,” he offers. “I was with Carrick from the beginning of your story together. I can help with any questions—”

  I’m shaking my head before he can finish his generous offer. Zaid isn’t the type to sit around and tell stories. He’s always on the go with something to do, although I haven’t quite figured out what exactly he does for Carrick other than handle the cooking. He has better things to do than give me a history lesson about… well… me.

  More than that, though, I don’t want anything tying me deeper to Carrick right now. My heart is already so shredded by what I’ve learned and then having him snatched away from me…

  I’m feeling very overwhelmed right now.

  “If you’re interested,” Zaid continues, despite the fact I’m shaking my head. “You can see all of your past lives.”

  My eyes about bug out of my head. “What?”

  He nods. “Everyone’s life is recorded and kept in memory crystals.”

  I’m stunned speechless. Like… who would record such things, how time-consuming would that be, and why on earth would that be important to begin with?

  Perhaps because he’s an empath, or maybe he can read my mind, he launches into an explanation. “I can tell by your expression that you’re wondering why someone would bother doing this, but why not? The gods have infinite magic at their disposal, but, more importantly, they have an army of demi-gods at their service. Many are created just to record history, which includes individual histories. But it’s more than just the events themselves—it’s from the people it happened to and their personal points of view, so you get feelings and emotions from watching them.”

  “You mean there’s like a horde of demi-god librarian types who record people’s lives?” I ask, not able to comprehend what they do.

  “That’s one way of putting it, but they don’t exactly use something as archaic as a camera. They use memory crystals, and while I don’t know the specifics, I know there’s some sort of magical automation to it. Carrick knows all about it. I only do because he took me there once.”

  “Why?”

  “When I was at a low point in my life and was considering staking myself to a tree again,” he murmurs, his eyes dulling a little.

  I suck in a tiny breath of distress.

  “Carrick merely whisked me away to this place called the Hall of Histories, then showed me the crystal that held his memory of finding me crucified on the tree.”

  “I’m sure that was effective,” I say.

  “Not nearly as effective as when he showed me the crystal of my memory of that event afterward.”

  Zaid said the crystal not only showed events, but also the emotions the person was feeling. I can see how that would have an impact on Zaid.

  He nods as if sensing the direction of my thoughts. “When I saw him approach the tree and he told me he was taking me down, I felt such immense relief. I knew I’d never appreciated anything in my life as much as that very moment when I was rescued. It made me remember that I wanted off that tree more than I wanted to be on it.”

  “I can’t even imagine what you went through.” I shift on the couch, looking Zaid straight in the eye. “Carrick told me some of it.”

  “I know,” he replies, flicking a speck of something off his black pants. “And I don’t mind him sharing with you. You knew about my history in your first life, and every life after that.”

  I smile sadly. Carrick had said my past selves knew the truth of what he was—a demi-god. He told Eireanne—and everyone after—everything, and no doubt would have included his good friend Zaid and his background.

  “You didn’t like me when I first came into Carrick’s life,” I throw out as a conversation change.

  “Who says I like you now?” he quips, but it’s done with the barest hint of a smile, which means he’s totally teasing. But then he sobers. “I wasn’t happy you were back. We didn’t know about the prophecy at that point. All we knew was Carrick would fall in love with you again, and you would die way too soon.”

  I consider that, realizing Zaid knows as much about my past as Carrick. “I’m glad you were there with Carrick throughout history. I’m sure he needed a friend.”

  Zaid is silent a moment, his gaze drifting as he considers something. When it returns to me, he admits with a guilty look, “I told Carrick that killing you should be an option.”

  I beam an accepting smile. “It’s okay. Carrick told me that he actually strangled me once right after seeing me.”

  His gaze drops as if that’s not good enough.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t remember those things,” I quip. When he raises his head and an eyebrow, I laugh. “I’d be a lot crankier about all of this if I did.”

  Zaid actually chuckles as he shakes his head. “I imagine you would be. But just know, if you want those memories when Carrick comes back, he’ll take you there.”

  “And is Carrick coming back?” I ask bitterly.

  “You know he will, Finley,” Zaid says in a chastising tone. He stands from the chair, then looks down at me. “He would never abandon you.”

  Again, that tiny flicker, but I squash it.

  Zaid must see it in my eyes—I want this conversation to be over.

  Instead of continuing, he inquires,
“Anything special you’d like for dinner tonight? I know the Scooby Gang is coming over.”

  I shake my head, lying back down with my head on the throw pillow. “Surprise us. Anything you make is awesome.”

  Zaid doesn’t reply but before he’s even left the living area, I have another game of Candy Crush going on my phone to occupy my mind. I don’t want to have to think about anything we just talked about.

  CHAPTER 3

  Finley

  Leaning forward in my chair, I put one palm on the library table and then cover that hand with my other one. I put my chin on my hands as I stare at the candle before me. It’s a Yankee Candle that Rainey brought over from the Fantasia, and its pumpkin-spice scent makes my nose wrinkle. We’re barely into September, and it’s too early for me to be thinking of pumpkins.

  And not just that it’s too early, but pumpkins are a symbol of Halloween, a holiday I much enjoyed as an adult since I like passing out candy to kids, but, as it stands… I might not be around for it this year.

  That’s because October’s new moon is in five weeks, and it’s when Kymaris’ ritual to bring down the veil is supposed to occur. At least according to Boral’s information that he got from his buddy, Kaesar, who is one of the original fallen Dark Fae that Kymaris will use in said ritual.

  So yeah, I do not like the subtle pumpkin spice scent wafting from the unlit wick, but I do like Rainey’s idea to try to use my magic to light it.

  Ever since Sarvel, my Custodia angel, told me she put light power into me at my birth, I have been trying to tap into it in some form or fashion. It’s worked on some occasions—like when I was able to break the incubus’s compulsion.

  Or when I was able to project myself into Zora’s body in the Underworld.

  The problem is that I have no clue how I accomplished those things, so it makes pulling on that power a mystery.