Carrick saw through his charade, though, easily looking past the glamour Peter wore. He was a daemon with a very dark aura.
When he left to get Fallon, Carrick wandered the gallery, pondering some pieces he found quite to his liking. He passed a worker who was on a ladder adjusting a massive wall piece and was able to pierce his veil easily to see he was a dark daemon as well. This seemed to indicate that Fallon was pulling dark creatures in close to her. She wasted no time as her change had occurred only three days ago. Fallon was surrounding herself with minions of her ilk.
“Carrick.” At the sound of Fallon’s voice, Carrick pivoted to face her. Without a twitch to his bland expression, he took in the other changes to this new Fallon besides what he’d heard on the phone.
She strode toward him in an outfit that he found to be too overtly sexual for a business owner of a highly reputable art gallery. It consisted of a short black miniskirt with a sheer, white blouse tucked in at the waist with several of the top buttons undone. Under the blouse, she had on a black bra, which stood out starkly.
That wasn’t the only change to her outward human appearance. The Fallon that was Finley’s sister was posh and elegant. Her hair was sleekly designed, her makeup subtle and tasteful. She dressed in high-end couture that was business chic. She walked gracefully, and her expression was always warm.
This Fallon—this dark creature—was shockingly different. Her normally glossy-brown hair, worn just above her shoulders, was now streaked with chunks of blond and curled into tight coils that seemed to spring out in a halo effect around her. It was neither fashionable nor trendy. Her makeup was heavy and garish. As she came closer to Carrick, her stride was almost predatory, as was her gaze upon him.
If any of Finley’s sister was left inside, she was buried down very deep.
Willing her glamour to disappear, Carrick took in Fallon’s true appearance. He couldn’t tell her species, but that was like having the ability to know every species of insect on the planet.
Her appearance was the same as it was the other night after she changed. Maybe the angles on her face had become a little sharper, but she had the same pale skin and hair, eyes leeched of almost all color except the black pupil was larger than a human’s. If you took in the near perfectness of her facial features outside of the oddities, she could be considered weirdly beautiful. While not the most horrid creature in the world, he knew this Dark Fae had to have been terrifying to Finley.
“I’m so pleased you came to see me,” the Dark Fae purred as she walked right up to Carrick, placed a hand on his chest, and went to her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
Carrick wasn’t moved one way or the other. He merely smiled as she drew back, then inclined his head. “Thank you for taking the time to show me around your gallery. I hope you’re feeling better.”
Fallon frowned briefly as if his words made no sense, before understanding dawned. “Ah… you mean my birthday party. Yes, I’m completely fine now. Thank you for asking.”
Her words were robotic as if the concept of small chitchat and basic manners were foreign to her. It probably was.
“Have you talked to Finley lately?” Carrick asked conversationally. “She wasn’t feeling well that night either.”
Carefully, he studied her expression, wanting to see how she reacted to the mention of her sister. Fallon’s upper lip curled ever so slightly, but she managed a neutral tone. “I haven’t, but she has good friends to keep an eye on her. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Carrick said nothing, merely stared at Fallon to push her to say more.
“We’re not that close, actually,” Fallon said with a dismissive laugh. “You know… sister rivalry and all that.”
The lie was obvious as Carrick knew there was no rivalry between the sisters, and while it was true they weren’t overly close, they did care for each other. The real Fallon would have been concerned Finley was sick.
What this confirmed to Carrick was Fallon believed her sister to be irrelevant to whatever purpose she had here on earth, and that relieved him.
“Enough talk of sisters,” Fallon said with a wave of her hand. She turned, moved into Carrick’s side, and looped her arm through his. “Come, let me show you around the gallery.”
Carrick played the part of interested buyer well, and he didn’t attempt to dissuade the way Dark Fae Fallon clung to him. He didn’t discourage her when she described the message within a piece of art using sexual innuendo.
Of course, he gave her nothing in return to suggest he was interested in anything more than a painting or sculpture. Rather, Carrick focused his attention on her mannerisms, her figures of speech, and how she spoke about others. It was clear to him that she was not doing a particularly good job in keeping the real Fallon as a good cover for her. He had to wonder what her fiancé Blain thought of these changes.