Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(22)

My brows rose. Fair folk was another name for fae, one not commonly used outside of people who believed in fairy tales. “Was she talking about the Otherworld?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but she started talking about communities, and I realized she was talking about here, in our world.”

I frowned, not following the importance of that. The fae that had crossed over into our realms lived among humans. Hell, there could be one living a block from here.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I thought the same thing. That she was just talking about the fae.” Brighton coughed out a stressed, hoarse laugh. “Then this morning she came downstairs with all these papers and told me that it was no longer safe for her or me to be here. I tried to calm her down, but nothing was working. She was in a fit.” Lifting the glass to her mouth, she downed the contents in one impressive gulp. “She was saying that the Order couldn’t stop the knights and the prince. That only the fae could, and the Order knew that.”

I watched Brighton walk to the other side of the table. “I should’ve followed her immediately when she went outside, but I didn’t. Maybe five minutes passed, and when I went to check, she wasn’t in the courtyard. I searched all the nearby streets. It’s been decades since she’s gotten in a cab. She was just . . . gone. You know she couldn’t have gotten that far, but she was gone, Ivy.”

Okay. Unless Merle called an Uber, which was unlikely, that was very weird.

“When I came back in, I saw these journals, and once I picked them up and started reading them, I couldn’t stop. If you look at them, you’ll understand why.” She placed her glass down on the table then reached over, picking up a leather-bound journal. “You need to read this.”

I reached over the table and took the journal from her. The thing was old, the leather worn and soft, and the paper had a faint yellow tint. I turned it around and started reading as Brighton started walking back and forth.

At first, none of it really made sense. It was like picking up a book and starting it in the middle, but as I turned the pages and kept reading, things started to piece together.

Disbelief flooded me as I really started to make sense of what I was reading. “My God,” I whispered, staring at the journal. “This can’t be . . .”

Brighton stopped pacing and crossed her arms. “That’s what I thought too, but my mom’s not that crazy. They’re not the rantings of a lunatic.”

“I know she’s not, but this is . . . it would be insane.” I reread the lines again, recognizing names of past Sect leaders—names connected with other names I didn’t recognize, but attached to dates of when they’d either crossed over into our world or had been born into ours. I sat down in the chair before I fell down. “No, not insane but unheard of.”

“But not impossible,” Brighton said, dropping into the seat across from me. “You know nothing is really impossible.”

She was right about that, but this . . . this was beyond something any of us had ever imagined. If what was in this journal was true, then my world had just been blown to bits all over again.

Because what I was reading stated that there were fae who lived in our world—fae that did not feed on humans.

Fae that had worked alongside the Order in the past.





Chapter Eight


I sat back in the chair. I was currently knee-deep in a stunned daze as I flipped back a couple of pages to where the names of past Sect leaders were listed. It stopped about two decades ago, on Lafayette Burgos. The other names listed beside the Sect leaders I assumed were fae, based on the bizarre nature of some of the names.

“There are good fae,” Brighton said, and my gaze shot to her pale face. “I’m almost too frightened to even suggest that. As if an Order member will appear out of nowhere and accuse me of treason against my own kind.” She laughed again as she glanced up at the ceiling. “But if you keep reading, that’s what you’ll see. Fae who came into our world, but decided not to feed off humans. They lived normal lifespans, much like our own. They worked alongside Order members in the past.”

My thoughts were wheeling as I started flipping through the journal. Entries were meticulously dated, detailing investigations, searches, and even kills. Many of the entries included the names of Order members and the fae they worked alongside.

Brighton reached across the table and picked up a deep blue journal, a much thinner one than the journal I’d been looking at. “My mother took detailed accounts of everything. I’m not even exaggerating. I had no idea she had all of this hidden away. This book lists all the members of the Order, up until when she . . . when she left.” She placed it on the table. “I got curious and checked on some of the names associated with the fae. Some of them are still alive but have moved out of the city. But there is one still around. Jerome.”

“Holy . . .” I couldn’t even begin to picture Jerome working with a fae. It went against everything I knew about him. “If this is true, why has this been hidden—erased from history?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t this be something known?”

“I don’t know.” She gestured at a dozen or so journals and a stack of loose sheets of paper scattered across the table. “There’s a good chance that there’s some sort of explanation in there, but as of right now, I have no idea.”