Zaid pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, searching for the number to Fallon’s art gallery. As he did so, Carrick explained his intentions. “I need to know if Finley’s sister still exists inside of this new creature. Is she trapped in there? Or has this Dark Fae taken over completely, and if so, does she retain memories of the real Fallon?”
“If she does…” Titus said, interrupting Carrick’s line of thought. “That means she can hide in plain sight—assuming Fallon’s life—while all of this plays out.”
Carrick nodded. “Exactly. So let’s see just how much she remembers about me for the time being, and we’ll proceed from there.”
It was a safe play, and the information was needed. Fallon was a danger, but just how much of one was unknown. Carrick could hold his own with any Dark Fae, so he wasn’t concerned about meeting her. But his ultimate desire was to find out how this new Fallon felt about her sister. He needed to see just how much danger Finley could be in from this creature.
Zaid dialed the gallery, efficiently making his way past Fallon’s assistant by merely announcing he was calling on behalf of Carrick Byrne. Everyone in Seattle knew who Carrick was because he was the richest of the rich, practically dubbed Seattle royalty. Fallon had been courting him to buy art from her gallery before all of this went down, which was how they first met.
With a grimace, Carrick remembered it was where he first met Finley Porter, setting him on this trajectory with her. Admittedly, there was a time when he just wanted to kill her to get her out of his life, but now her health and well-being were directly tied to his ability to ascend. Now he had to protect her at all costs.
While Zaid was placed on hold, he put his phone on speaker and laid it on the table so everyone could hear. The wait wasn’t long, and Fallon’s voice came across loud and clear for the three men to hear.
Carrick easily recognized her by sound, but there was an added element to her tone that was off. It was a bit huskier, maybe a little deeper in inflection. There was a brusqueness to it whereas the real Fallon was warm and engaging. “This is Fallon Porter.”
Zaid leaned over the phone. “Miss Porter… I’m calling on behalf of Carrick Byrne. He was wondering if perhaps he could come by this morning and look at some art for his home office.”
“I would be honored,” she replied calmly, sounding neither overly excited nor put out by the request. “What time would be good?”
Carrick and Zaid shared a knowing glance. The real Fallon Porter would have been far more exuberant to have Carrick wanting to look at some of her art.
Zaid pushed a bit at her to see if she was playing a role or if any of the real Fallon’s memories were in there. “The sooner the better,” he replied, smirking at Carrick. “The last time he was there, he was very regretful he didn’t get the chance to look around.”
Fallon laughed before she purred. “I was disappointed he couldn’t stay for the show, too. He missed some fantastic pieces I would have personally loved to show him.”
There was an underlying sexual timbre in her words, but despite that, Carrick relaxed a little, hearing her confirm knowledge of their first meeting. Perhaps Finley’s sister was still inside and could be saved, although that wasn’t his primary objective. Still, if he could find a way to save her in the process of thwarting the prophecy, he would do that for Finley.
“How about in say, an hour?” Zaid offered.
“Perfect,” Fallon replied. “See you then.”
After disconnecting from the call, Carrick, Zaid, and Titus talked for another thirty minutes, discussing ways to learn more about what the prophecy could be. Zaid had the most connections since he had contacts on both the light and dark side of the fae and daemon societies. Titus was a hunter of Dark Fae and their daemon offspring, so he wasn’t as in touch. Regardless, he insisted on staying in the earthly realm for a while to help Carrick and Finley as best he could.
When it was time to head to the gallery, Zaid called down for Carrick’s car and within five minutes, he was across Belltown. When the driver opened his door, he darted through the light rain that had started to fall and opened the door to the art gallery, which was titled simply, Fallon’s.
Carrick was greeted by a man who he assumed was Fallon’s assistant as he introduced himself as Peter Carpenter. He presented as a sniveling ass kisser of a man on the shorter side of short, profusely welcoming Carrick into the gallery. He did so even bowing slightly as he talked.