Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(87)

“You make it sound so creepy,” Faye said. “We aren’t really everywhere. I mean, we’re hidden in a lot of places, but we do it because of safety.”

“That’s just Ren, being all ominous.” Tink walked ahead, his arms swinging at his sides. “He’s not really what you’d call a people person. I think he’s socially awkward. Or maybe just intellectually stunted.”

Ren sighed and appeared to be counting numbers under his breath.

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I followed them down the grassy pathway toward a pavilion that butted up to the back of a building that was—wow—no longer an abandoned factory.

Nothing was dilapidated. There were no missing bricks or busted windows. One whole section was nothing but a glass wall. A set of large French doors were open, and I could see that the insides were brightly lit.

Tink was inside by the time I crossed the pavilion, walking past numerous thick-cushioned, comfy-looking chairs. Warm air heavy with the scent of coffee and vanilla tickled my nose as I stepped into what only could be described as something similar to a hotel lobby.

Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and the building had to be bigger than it appeared outside, because the ceiling alone was two stories high. Chairs were everywhere, some spaced around fireplaces, others in front of large TVs that were currently turned off.

Further in, I saw that there was an honest to goodness coffee shop. My mouth was probably hanging open.

“You hanging in there?” Ren asked quietly. He was by my side. Had been the whole way in here. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up now, and I saw the tattoo on his arm.

Drake had the same tattoo when he was pretending to be Ren, but for some reason it looked different now. More real. More Ren.

“Ivy?”

Realizing he’d been waiting for me to answer, I forced a nod even though I really wasn’t okay. This was a lot to process. Everything was a lot to process. I felt like I had fallen down a rabbit hole, and a cat was going to appear out of nowhere and start talking to me like I was on some kind of acid trip.

“What is . . . what is this place?” I asked, hearing how shaky my voice was.

Faye faced me, not a strand of her long silvery hair out of place. “It’s a safe haven of sorts, but on any given day, there are about a hundred fae who live here.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale as my arms fell to my sides. “A hundred fae . . . ?”

“We can house more. We have a store down at the end of that hall.” She gestured to my left, pointing to somewhere beyond the coffee shop. “And we have a cafeteria.”

I started to ask if it served humans or food, but luckily and wisely stopped the dumb, needlessly smartass comment. I wanted to ask, though.

“Ivy needs to shower and rest.” Tink grabbed my hand suddenly. “What room can she stay in? I think she would like the one that overlooks the garden. And it’s not super far up, only on the eighth floor.”

There were how many floors? Then again, this place could house over a hundred fae. Holy fae overload, this place was under some powerful-ass glamour.

Faye’s brow furrowed while she thought about it. “The garden room is fine.”

“Okay.” Tink started dragging me to my right. “We’ll head up. See you guys later.”

I looked over my shoulder at Ren. He was standing next to Faye, his arms crossed and jaw hard, but the look etched onto his face, in his bright green eyes, was a wealth of sadness that was hard to look upon. With a knot in my throat, I turned away and let Tink lead me to the elevators.

He didn’t say anything as he hit the button for the eighth floor, but he held my hand. It was kind of weird, but also good. There was something comforting about it.

“This place . . . it’s like a hotel,” I said as the doors opened.

“That’s what your boy toy said too.” We stepped inside, and as the doors quietly slid shut, he looked down at me. “You don’t need to shower if you don’t want to, but you are kind of filthy. Your eyes are a bit messed up, and you have dirt all over you.”

“I can shower,” I said dryly.

“But I also thought you’d like some time alone, because it’s about two in the morning, and the fae around these parts get up at the butt crack of dawn. And there are a lot of them, Ivy. A lot. Like I couldn’t spit and not hit one.”

“That’s . . . reassuring.”

“But they are good. I promise you. Some are a little nervous right now, because of Ren. Not me.” The elevator stopped, and he led me out into a wide hall. He hung a left, leading me toward a room that had “GARDEN” written on the door. “They love me. You see, brownies are, like, the shit in the Otherworld. So I am the supreme shit here.”

I frowned, wondering if he knew how that sounded.

Tink opened the door to a large room that reminded me of a studio apartment. On one side there was a decent-sized bed, a nightstand, and a dresser, and on the other was a small couch in front of a TV. There was a fridge, and no stove but a microwave. A door led to a bathroom.

Overwhelmed, hurting physically, and more than just a little mentally and emotionally bruised from everything, I turned in a slow circle. “How . . . how did all of this happen?”

Tink seemed to know what I meant. “It’s a long story, Ivy-Divy.”