When I move into the living room, I see Myles at the door, chatting the car driver up. It’s blessedly not raining, so I don’t have to worry about that.
Myles takes me in with a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, Finley. That dress is amazing.”
I give a twirl. “I know, right?”
“Miss Porter,” the driver—who is decked out in a black suit and a black chauffeur’s cap, the bill in patent leather—says. He holds his arm out, and I step across the threshold onto the stoop to take it.
Myles waves goodbye, then shuts the door on us. The driver expertly helps me navigate the steps and sidewalk. He pulled so close to the edge of the path that I won’t even have to step onto the pea-gravel driveway and risk getting stones in my sandals. Very thoughtful.
When he opens the door, I prepare to face Carrick, which always carries with it a slew of emotions that could range from annoyance to mistrust to infatuation.
To my surprise, the backseat is empty.
“Mr. Byrne had a meeting run late at the office, and he will meet you at the venue,” the driver apprises me.
“Oh. Okay.” That makes sense and honestly, I had thought it a bit rude he didn’t come to the house for me himself. I mean, it’s not like a real date, but I am accompanying him to an event and surely, the esteemed, highly wealthy, and cultured man would have known protocol should have him coming to the door.
Oh, who am I kidding? Carrick knows what’s appropriate, and he would have never come to the door because he doesn’t care enough about me to adhere to propriety.
Once in the car with the door closed and my seatbelt secured, I pull out my phone from my clutch and surf the entire way back into downtown. It would have been a lot easier to just go to Fallon’s condo to get ready, but again… questions. However, Carrick offered transportation—through Zaid, of course—and it’s not going to suck not having to drive back home tonight. I could even indulge in a few drinks if I want.
I’m not quite sure exactly what we’re attending, and I recall Carrick saying it was an auction of some sort. I am pleased to see it’s being held at the Seattle Aquarium, which is a popular meeting venue for large-scale gatherings. One of my high school friends got married here a few years ago, and it was awesome.
The driver pulls up behind a line of limousines waiting to drop off guests. It only takes a few moments as there’s a policeman directing traffic, and one lane of Alaskan Way has been blocked off to accommodate the car services. This tells me this is a pretty big event, and I wonder how in the hell I’m supposed to find Carrick.
When it’s our turn, I tell the driver, “Don’t bother getting out. I can handle it.”
He starts to object, but I open the back door and step out, feeling slightly foolish to be doing so without him opening the door and also exiting without anyone by my side.
After shutting the door, I follow a couple drenched in jewels and expensive finery into the aquarium entrance. There’s a concierge at the door with a digital tablet to check people in and ensure they are on the guest list. My name is there—as I had expected it to be—and I’m waved through.
The venue room is gorgeous, one entire side showcasing a curved floor-to-ceiling glass aquarium filled with colorful fish and amazing corals. There are a lot of people here already and after nabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, I start to search for Carrick. Because of his height, it’s not difficult to rule people out, but after making one trip around the room, I still haven’t found him.
Rather than do it again, I decide to move off to a semi-quiet space so I can observe people as they mingle, drink, and move along the catered tables of posh food. While I wait for Carrick to make an appearance, I use the opportunity to check my abilities in such a large crowd, as there has to be easily four hundred people milling about.
As I had been practicing my abilities the last few weeks—learning to hone in on vibes first—I had also learned the reverse. In other words, I could lock my senses down if I wanted some peace and didn’t want to be assaulted by vibes just out of the blue. I mostly use it at work, choosing to be ignorant of what hides under my patrons’ faces so my workday isn’t ruined.
Inhaling through my nose, I imagine my chest opening as I exhale and give a silent invitation for the slightest omen to come in. The minute I do, I get a tingly feeling in my belly and then immediately look to the source… a pretty brunette woman five feet to my right. Based on feeling alone, I’m confident she’s a Light Fae or daemon because of the pleasant vibe. Still, as Carrick has said, we’ve not yet proven if my intuitions can truly distinguish Light from Dark. I mean, personally… I think my gut and sight match up, but I’m willing to continue experimenting so we can be sure.