“For the most part?” I press.
“Some of the gods use these as teaching or growth tools. Sometimes to just an individual, sometimes to humanity itself.”
“That’s preposterous,” I sputter.
“On that, I’d agree,” he replies flatly. “But here we are, and you’re destined to be a part of stopping it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this a month ago when you learned about it?” I ask, and I hate that my voice sounds small and hurt. Because I should have no expectation that Carrick cares one whit about me.
Something flickers in Carrick’s eyes, but I dare not even consider it to be guilt. I’ve learned the man is sorry for none of his actions. “I wasn’t sure you could handle it a month ago. You’d just found out about daemons and fae. I also didn’t know what the prophecy was or when it would be. I was hoping to divine more information to help break the news to you more gently. Take your pick—those reasons are all true.”
“So, when we went to see Echo and Stan, you weren’t trying to learn about my abilities, you were trying to learn about this prophecy?” I ask, the accusation in my tone crystal clear because he was using me.
“No,” he replies emphatically. “I was trying to learn about both because your abilities are tied to this prophecy. They go hand in hand. I’m convinced.”
“What does The Council say about my abilities? Surely, they know, since I’m assuming they had a hand in creating them? And surely they had a hand in changing Fallon to a Dark Fae?”
“The Council won’t help. We’re on our own.”
This doesn’t surprise me. Especially not if they’re beings who get entertainment value over what they’ve done to me and my life.
My hands seem steadier, so I take the teacup and lift it to my mouth to drain it. It’s merely lukewarm now. Before I can set it down, Zaid leans forward to take the pot to refill it for me, but I shake my head. Instead, he reaches out and takes the empty cup, holding it in his hand.
I nod down at it. “Going to read my tea leaves?”
There’s a shadow of a smirk from him. “Going to put it in the dishwasher.”
My gaze moves back to Carrick. “So let me see if I have this straight. There are five gods who create prophecies on whims and to keep themselves entertained. One has been put into play, and I’m a part of stopping it. We don’t know what it does, how bad it is, or even when it might occur, but we do know that my sister turned into a Dark Fae tonight, so we’re reasonably assured she’s part of it, too. We have no direction, no help, and I’m getting the distinct feeling that my life is going to be in extreme danger. Is that about the gist of it?”
Carrick’s lips press into a flat line. He merely nods.
“And truthfully, what’s in it for you?” I ask, because I know damn well he’s not helping out of the goodness of his heart.
The scowl on Carrick’s face deepens. His words are clipped and short, but I know they’re truthful. “There’s a reward for me if I help you thwart the prophecy.”
“Hmm,” I murmur in response, mulling that for only a second. Of course there’s something in it for him.
A calm settles over me, and I have no clue where it comes from. I just know, deep in my heart, there’s one thing for me to do.
I smile at Carrick—one that is a little bit of gratitude and a whole lot of fake manners—and stand from my chair. I give a brief glance to Zaid, same smile in place, and then back to Carrick. “Well, I appreciate you filling me in on this. I’m grateful you’ve taught me about the fae and daemons and such, as well as their history. But I’m going to politely decline to be a part of this and go back to my normal life.”
“You can’t decline,” Zaid sputters, looking entirely affronted at my claim.
“Oh, but I can,” I assure him. One last look at Carrick, and I incline my head. “Goodbye. Please don’t contact me again.”
I pivot, heading out of his office. The numbness I’d been feeling after watching Fallon disappear out of my life starts overtaking me again. Which is good… it means my emotions are muted and I need a break from them.
“She can’t leave,” Zaid says, and I know this is directed at Carrick.
Thankfully, he doesn’t respond and makes no move to stop me either by supplication or by his compulsion.
But I do have a curiosity, I wonder if he will indulge me now that we are parting ways. I stop, turn only slightly but mostly look over my shoulder. “You’ve told me you’re not a fae or daemon. What are you?”