A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,3
pop my foot through the end, then pull the stretchy material up a bit before planting it on the floor and lifting my right leg.
Just as it rises, my gaze catches on the outside of my right calf. At first, it doesn’t penetrate what I’m seeing, perhaps because my psyche just can’t handle one more horror tonight.
But I stare at it hard before blinking several times to see if it will go away, hoping perhaps it’s a figment of my overused and battered imagination.
Glowing white, even against the paleness of my skin, it remains, and panic fills me. “Carrick,” I scream, flopping to the gym floor on my butt. I turn my right knee inward, drawing my ankle closer to me so I can get a better look.
Right there, about three inches down from my knee, is a white outline of a feather. With a shaky finger, I reach out to touch it, but I’m distracted by Carrick bursting into the gym, Zaid right on his heels.
Carrick’s eyes are alight with something ferocious as he scans for some threat before spotting me on the floor. Relief washing over his expression, he takes long strides my way as he asks, “What’s wrong?”
I point the finger that’s hovering just above my skin, stabbing downward toward the outside of my calf. “Look.”
He squats beside me, and Zaid comes to do the same right beside him. They both peer hard at the feather on my leg.
“What the fuck is that?” I wheeze, feeling like all the air in my lungs has been squashed.
Without any hesitation or fear, Carrick is the one who touches it. His finger starts at the quill, which is closer to my ankle. Gently, he glides it up my skin, following the long flow of the feather.
His head lifts, eyes coming to mine as he asks, “Did this just appear?”
“I don’t know.” The hysteria in my voice is not abating. “It wasn’t there when I got dressed for the party.”
I know damn well it wasn’t because I’d shaved my legs, which means I had an eagle-eye view. There was no white tattoo there.
I know I should feel ridiculous, sitting on the gym floor, one leg in my pants, the other out, and my panties on full display, but there are more urgent matters pressing upon me.
Both men rise, giving each other concerned looks.
“It must have happened at the same time Fallon changed,” Zaid says.
“More than likely, at the same time Finley was born,” Carrick corrects.
“8:34 PM,” I murmur as I stare at the feather, knowing the exact time of my birth in relation to Fallon’s. “My mom died three minutes later.”
“Get dressed,” Carrick says gently in a timbre I rarely hear, and it causes my head to lift so I can see him. His return gaze is troubled, but for the first time ever, I see a touch of sympathy in his expression. “Come into the living room when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.”
* * *
It takes me fifteen minutes to get dressed, which is a long damn time seeing as how I only had to thread one more leg into my pants. But I sit on the floor long after Carrick and Zaid leave, finally getting up the nerve to touch the feather.
I expect to feel a jolt, perhaps even a tingle, but I get nothing. The lines of the feather aren’t raised, my skin smooth in texture thanks to good moisturizing and a morning shave. The feather itself is wide and long, and definitely not the type that would be used as an inking quill. It narrows only slightly at the tip, curving into a blunted edge. The individual strands can be seen with clarity. I have no clue what type of bird it might belong to, but it’s not delicate looking at all. Rather, it makes me believe it would belong to a large species known for strength of flight, like perhaps an eagle.
The coloring is odd, all one shade of bright white so it shows up like a beacon against my pale skin. Sometimes if I stare at it too hard, it seems to glow, but I know it’s my eyes merely playing a trick on me.
I try to think back to when Fallon was changing, and if it was indeed at the time she was born, it stands to reason the feather showed up on my skin at the time I was born. Except I didn’t feel a thing.