“Like what?” I ask.
“Darkness,” he replies eerily, making the hair on my arms rise. “Something very dark is coming. It feels like an uprising.”
“The Light Fae?” Carrick asks, eyebrows knit together.
“I doubt it,” Stan says with a shrug. “Our kind is content in Faere. I mean, there are always rumblings the royals would like to expand their empire, but I don’t take it seriously.”
“Take over this Earth dimension?” Carrick prods.
Stan gives another shrug. “My vision didn’t give me details. There are always those who are affronted they had to leave the earthly realm for Faere once humans outnumbered them. I suppose some could be planning a return to overtake mankind.”
It sounds ridiculous to me. “But there’s not enough of them to overtake all the humans,” I point out. Zaid had made it clear their numbers are incredibly small compared to the human population of this world.
“They only have to overtake those in control,” Stan says. He makes an even better point, and my stomach flips at the thought. “Fae magic has grown over the millennia. It’s not a far reach to say… have a fae kill the president of the United States, assume a glamour to look like him, and take control.”
I blanch as he makes his point. And not just the president. Our entire congress and judiciary could be compromised. Other important heads of state. World leaders. Nuclear wars could be triggered, and economies crashed.
“But again,” Stan explains dubiously. “I just don’t see the royals doing that. As I said, we’re a pretty content bunch in Faere and for those of us choosing to stay here, we’re here because we like just a normal, low-key life.”
Aha. He’s a royal. I figured as much given how gorgeous he is. But why would a royal ever choose such an ordinary glamour like he has?
Carrick scratches at his chin as he ponders Stan’s words. “And you saw absolutely nothing of Finley’s future?”
“A house on a cliff,” Stan says, and I jolt. Just as Patty saw. “But that’s not the stuff you’re looking for.”
My mind spins. What else did Patty say? Kids? A gorgeous man? That I might become a cop?
Totally ridiculous.
“What about her abilities?” Carrick asks, and I focus back on the important stuff we’re here for. “Have you ever heard of a human doing that?”
“Never,” he replies gravely. “I mean, theoretically, she can if she had stone magic, but that’s been dead in the earthly realm for centuries upon centuries.”
“Do you know anyone who might know something?” Carrick presses.
Stan hesitates, as if unsure whether he should answer. I can tell it pains him to do so, but he finally says, “The Scryer in Faere may know something.”
“What’s The Scryer?” I interject myself into the conversation.
Stan looks at me with distaste. “Someone that is able to see the future and the past with a lot more clarity than I can. The Scryer can see almost anything. But you need a fae to take you there, and that’s not a request we are inclined to grant.”
“I know,” Carrick mutters. “But I know one that owes me a big favor.”
“Of course you do,” I murmur under my breath.
Carrick thanks Stan and pays him, which shocks me at first, but then I realize… he’s just a royal fae living on earth, trying to make a buck with Patty. I’m dying to ask him questions… find out why someone in an esteemed position—as I assume fae royals are—would choose such an ordinary life. But Carrick has me by my elbow, his favorite way to control me, and he leads me out of the shop.
Once we’re back in the car and Carrick has instructed his driver to take me home first, I ask, “So are we going to Faere?”
“You’re not,” he says distractedly.
“If you are, I am,” I retort.
Carrick studies me. “It’s dangerous.”
“So.”
His expression darkens. “So, I’m not about to expose you to danger.”
“You either agree to take me, or I’m done with you. Done with trying to figure out what’s wrong with me and training with Titus and everything. I’m either in this one hundred percent with you or I’m completely out—finished with you and whatever your little secret agenda is, because I know you have one.”
Carrick’s eyes harden, and his jaw locks.
“Except for One Bean,” I rush to say. “I’m not giving that up, but that’s completely different from all of this.”
Still, he says nothing. Instead, he just scowls. I get the distinct impression he’d throttle me if he could because he looks pretty pissed.
Finally, he nods curtly. “Fine. I’ll work with my contact to arrange a trip. But we’re not going until you get a little more training done with Titus.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he barks.
I snap my mouth shut, not because I’m willingly taking his orders, but because there’s nothing to argue about. I do need some more training if we’re going somewhere dangerous. While I want answers, I don’t want to be stupid in how I go about getting them.