Wicked Read online

  "Game of Thrones?" I suggested. "King's Landing?"

  He jumped as he nodded. "And then the third time was . . . well, he was doing something you never do."

  There were a lot of things I never did. "What was that?"

  Cupping his hands around his mouth, he stretched up as his wings arced behind him. "He was having sex."

  "Tink," I muttered, hanging my head.

  "With three females. Three." Tink settled back, shaking his head in wonder. And I was kind of in wonder myself. Three females, one male? Then again, I wasn't surprised. The fae were full of sexuality. Another weapon they used against mortals. "How is that even possible?" he asked.

  "It takes talent," I replied, eyeing the little dude. A moment passed while he danced around. "Do you know anything about ancients being here?"

  He stopped and looked up at me. "No."

  "What about why an ancient would suddenly make his presence known?"

  A shake of the head. "I have no clue."

  "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Tink?"

  "No." He grinned. "You have Amazon Prime."

  I snorted. "Good to know how I can secure your loyalty." I pushed off the counter and headed toward my bag. "By the way, while you were passed out, there were deliveries for you. I put them on the chair by the door."

  "Ah!" He flew up in the air. "Why did you wait until now to tell me?" Heading toward the living room, he stopped beside me. "But you're okay, right? You're not going to die on me while you sleep? No one knows about me, so no one will know to come looking for me, and I already ate all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms."

  Laughing softly, I shook my head. No one knew about Tink, not even Val. Whenever anyone came over, Tink knew to hide. "I'm fine. Just a little sore, but they gave me some stuff for that. I'm going to take a shower then probably sleep."

  "It's only four in the afternoon."

  "You were passed out when I came in, so I don't want to hear it." Grabbing the bottle of pills out of the front zippered pocket of my backpack, I scooped one out and chased it down with a root beer I fished out of the fridge.

  "Don't get addicted to those. I don't want to be roomies with a junkie because then you'll move on to harder shit and end up doing bath salts and eating my face off." Then he flew out of the room.

  Tink . . . Tink was weird.

  I'd made it to my bedroom door when he flew past me, clutching a tie-dyed troll doll. He collected them, and I honestly really didn't want to know what he did with them.

  Once inside my bedroom, I placed my drink on the nightstand, and flipped on the bedside light. Although I kept the room dark, everything inside of it was bright—the fuchsia pillowcases and deep purple chenille bedspread, the blue and pink paisley bench at the foot of my bed. Even the two dressers and the nightstand were painted a bright blue.

  Since I couldn't wear colors like Val did, I lived knee-deep in them.

  I got undressed, leaving my clothes in a pile by the door to the en suite bathroom. I was lucky to have two, especially since Tink liked to turn the hallway bathtub into a swimming pool. This bathroom was simple and gorgeous, and I loved the old claw-foot tub with the shower rod.

  I cranked the water on to as hot as I could stand it and made sure the bandage covering my stitches was secured before I stepped under the steaming stream. The moment the water hit my skin, I let out a sound of pure bliss. It felt like I hadn't showered in days.

  The water ran a deep pink until the basin of the tub cleared and all the dried blood was washed away. I cleaned my hair twice, and as I stood under the pounding stream, I let the events of last night finally catch up to me.

  I slapped my hands over my face, but the tide of emotion rose up swiftly, settling in the back of my throat. My eyes burned fiercely as I squeezed them shut, refusing to let the tears fall.

  I hadn't cried since the night my adopted parents were slaughtered, the same night Shaun was killed, and I had cried so many tears back then I think there was a good chance I'd soaked up a lifetime's worth of heartache. Getting shot was like pricking open old wounds with a butter knife. I wasn't sure why exactly, other than the flash of mortality, but I saw Holly and Adrian's lifeless stares as if I were standing over them again. Then I saw Shaun, him paling as . . .

  Running my fingers over the Freedom symbol inked into my skin next to my left hip, I turned my back to the shower and forced myself to take steady, deep breaths until the knot in my throat lessened and the images of that dark night retreated.

  The ache in my stomach had started to fade by the time I stepped out of the shower and dried off, but the antsy feeling that always accompanied thoughts of what happened that night had surfaced and was going strong. So was the feeling of unease as I walked into my cool bedroom. There could be an ancient out there right now, doing God knows what, and I was going to bed?

  It wasn't even six in the evening, but the bed did look super appealing. Glancing at my dresser, my gaze skipped over the daggers lined up neatly. They were only slightly different from a stake. The blade was thinner and the handle made them easier to use.

  Curling my fingers around the edges of my towel, I blew out an annoyed breath. I knew what I wanted to do, but David would have my ass in a sling since he told me to take off until Wednesday.

  But he didn't tell me I had to stay home.

  A grin pulled at my lips as I started toward my closet. Technically I wouldn't be working. I'd just be out for an evening walk, and if I happened to come across any fae, even a possible ancient or whatever, then it wouldn't be my fault.

  With that thought circling around, I changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt Tink had ordered for me a few months back. It was black with a drunken fairy on it. Leave it to Tink to find that shirt online . . . and buy it with my money.

  I strapped a dagger inside my boot and tugged the hem of my jeans down. I twisted my hair into a knot, securing it with a thick bobby pin. Tink was nowhere to be found when I entered the kitchen and pulled my textbooks out of my bag, making the backpack lighter.

  I headed to the closed bedroom door and rapped my knuckles on it. "Tink?"

  "I'm busy!" came the immediately shout.

  The troll doll he carried into his room earlier appeared in my mind, and I mentally recoiled from that with a quickness. "I'm heading out. Okay?"

  A second later the door cracked open and Tink stuck his blond head out. His pale blue eyes narrowed. "You're not going out to work, are you?"

  I shook my head. "I'm just heading out." Which wasn't entirely a lie. "I won't be late."

  His lips pursed. "I don't believe you. You're up to shenanigans! I can tell."

  "Want me to bring back some beignets?"

  Tink's eyes widened and a look of childlike glee crept into his expression. "Would you? For me? A whole plate for me? All mine? Not yours?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Tink."

  "From Café Du Monde?"

  "Yes." I sighed.

  "Then get the hell out of my face and get going!" Tink slammed the door shut.

  "You're welcome," I muttered, shaking my head.

  Conserving energy, I caught a trolley to Canal Street, and as I stepped out under a palm, I really hoped I did not run into David. No one could make you feel like a misbehaving thirteen-year-old quicker than he could. I crossed the street and headed toward Royal. The sky was overcast, and the air was cloaked with humidity. I couldn't wait until the cooler temps rolled in.

  As I made my way toward the Quarter, I thought of Green Eyes. Was he out here tonight? And who in the hell was he? What did David say his name was?

  Why was I even thinking about him?

  Though I bet money the moment Val laid eyes on him, she would be laying a lot of things on him.

  For a Thursday night, the Quarter was packed, but as one hour turned into three, I hadn't caught sight of a single fae. The whole thing was turning out to be a bust, but I guessed that was good news, right?

  But it was . . . str
ange.

  Probably because there was a darkness that lingered over the city, a tangible feeling of something building in the background that wasn't all puppies and rainbows. Over the last couple of weeks I'd noticed it. Even some of the other Order members had mentioned it. Val had said no more than a handful of days ago that it reminded her of how it felt before a bad storm rolled into the city. I didn't know what the feeling truly signified, but I couldn't help thinking it had something to do with the fae I'd run into last night.

  I roamed up and down Bourbon, where the fae typically congregated. I should've seen at least three by this point. This was weird, and the sense of unease grew stronger, trickling through my veins like the icy rains I used to hate up north.

  Thinking of the bar I'd seen the fae stumble out of the night before, I pivoted around and nearly slammed into an older man. "Sorry!" I sidestepped him, and I was pretty sure he had no clue I almost plowed him over.

  I slowed my steps as I neared the bar. From the outside it looked like almost every other bar on Bourbon—a little sketchy, slightly rundown, and teaming with people who were in various stages of drunkenness. I usually stayed out of the bars, because my patience thinned quickly, but I took a deep breath and stepped through the open door.

  And immediately regretted it.

  The scent of stale beer and mold smacked me in the face. Yuck. Trying not to breathe too deeply, I moved around the edge of the group surrounding the bar. A TV hung from the ceiling, broadcasting a baseball game. Shouts erupted. Arms shot into the air. Droplets of beer flew in every direction. I stepped back, hoping I didn't get drenched.

  "Ivy."

  My fingers tightened on the strap of my bag. I recognized that voice. Crap. I turned around to see Trent Frost, member of the Order, and certified ass kisser.

  I plastered a smile on my face that felt painful. "Hey. . ."

  Trent looked me in the eyes for a full two seconds before his gaze dropped to my breasts. Typical. "Didn't you get shot?"

  Good to know what happened last night had spread through the Order. "Yeah, but it was a flesh wound." I turned, glancing back at the bar. I was going to have to kung-fu people out of the way to get a look at the bartenders. "Nothing big."

  "Also thought you were off rotation until Wednesday," he said.

  "I am. I'm not working."

  He was like a wolf with a cornered rabbit. "Then why are you out here?"

  I shrugged. "Why are you?"

  "Wanted to see the score on the game."

  I faced him, arching a brow. "Seriously?"

  His dark eyes dropped again, and I resisted the urge to plant my fist in his face. "Actually, no. I caught a couple of fae coming out of this bar over the last week. Wanted to check it out."

  Well hell bells, I wasn't the only one who noticed that. Trent might have a perverted, wandering eye, but he was good at what he did. And the deep scar under his lip spoke of all the times he'd tangled with the fae. "I saw one come out of here last night, so I was curious to see what was going on."

  "Thought you weren't working."

  I shot him a peeved glare. "Just because I'm checking something out doesn't mean I'm working."

  "Uh-huh." He chuckled as he nodded up at the bar. "Bartenders are normal tonight. Not sure if that's how it is every night or if one of them is working for the fae." He folded muscled arms across his huge chest. For what he lacked in height, he sure made up in width. The man could probably knock down a small house with all the muscles he was packing. "Either way, I'm going to hang here, see if I can catch anything."

  "Streets are dead, aren't they?" I asked as a guy bumped into my shoulder.

  He nodded. "I heard that you said a fae shot you," he said, and I cursed under my breath. Harris must've talked because I doubt David would have. Me trying to cover up what happened didn't help if someone else was talking. I wanted to do what David had ordered and keep my mouth shut and all, but I couldn't help thinking it was wrong and put other Order members at risk.

  Screw it.

  I faced Trent. "It was a fae who shot me, and I'm sure you also heard that it made a gun appear out of thin air. It wasn't a normal fae, Trent. I stabbed it with iron and it did nothing."

  His lips twitched as he looked over my head and at the screen behind the bar. "That sounds . . . batshit crazy. Like as crazy as Merle sounds."

  I stiffened as if cement had been dropped down my spine. I felt a lot of sympathy for that woman. A huge part of me . . . well, I could understand her, and I didn't like hearing anyone talk like that about her.

  "That's ignorant," I said, my voice calm even though I was seconds from introducing his face to the power of my uppercut. "She was a member of the Order, and you should respect everything that woman has sacrificed."

  Trent tipped his head back and laughed through his nose. "With or without my respect, that doesn't change the fact that she's crazy." Shaking his head, his gaze flipped to mine then dropped to my chest. "Man, I gotta say, it was a bad idea when the Order started allowing females in. You guys just can't handle—"

  I didn't even think.

  Grasping his shoulders with both hands, I leveraged myself as I brought my knee up and forward, slamming it between his knees. Air punched out of his lungs, along with a harsh curse. Letting go of his shoulders, I stepped back with a smile as he doubled over.

  "Handle that, asshole." Then I spun on my heel and practically flounced out of the bar.

  I was definitely going to get yelled at for that if Trent ratted me out, but whatever lecture I'd be facing was so worth it. What a freaking pig. The sad thing was a lot of the guys in the Order felt that way. Idiots.

  The sun had long since gone down, and the scent of rain clung to the air as I headed toward Jackson Square. I needed to call it a night, pick up some beignets, and head back home. I crossed the intersection, and as I glanced to my left, I came to a complete stop in the middle of the street.

  Holy crap.

  There, right in the middle of Orleans Avenue, was the fae from last night. I couldn't believe it, but it was him. My heart kicked in my chest as I veered to the left, hitting the sidewalk and sticking close to the buildings.

  He was standing with his side to me, out in front of the cigar shop. A human male was with him, and it was just the massive size of the fae that made the human look like a strong wind could blow him the rest of the way to the square. He was strung out, frail, and sickly looking as he stood beside the fae, itching at the skin above the day's growth of beard. The fae who shot me turned, his back to me, and the human tried to follow but stumbled off the curb and fell, cracking his knees on the road.

  That was the effect of a fae feeding off a mortal's essence, slowing stripping away their life until nothing but dust and bones was left behind.

  The fae didn't even look back at the mortal as he started walking down Orleans, toward Royal. I picked up my pace as the guy managed to stand. Disoriented, he turned in a wide circle until he spotted the fae several feet ahead. He lurched after him like a lost puppy—an unfed, flea-infested puppy.

  So incredibly wrong.

  Fury rose in me as swiftly as a fierce storm blowing in. My hands curled into fists, and my blood boiled with anger. My entire being was focused on the bastard as I stalked forward. I made it a couple of feet when something—a person—stepped out from between two buildings and grabbed a hold of me.

  An arm curled around my stomach, just below my breasts, securing my arms to my sides. I was up and off the sidewalk in a nanosecond, taken into the narrow pathway between the two buildings. A hand clamped down on my mouth. Instinct kicked in, and I brought my knees up, planning to throw my weight forward.

  "I wouldn't do that," said a low, deep voice directly in my ear. "I'm going to put you down, and you're not going to spin around and punch or kick me. You understand?"

  How was I supposed to voice my understanding? His hand was over my mouth!

  "Come on, Merida. Nod your head if you feel me."

 
; Who in the hell was Merida? It didn't matter. All I needed was for him to let me go, and I wasn't going to punch or kick him. I was going to beat the living crap out of him. I nodded.

  "I'm trusting you. The last thing I want to see is for you to hurt yourself," he said.

  Oh, someone was going to be hurting, and it wasn't going to be me.