Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(10)

I kind of felt like a misbehaving child when he looked at me like that. The man was hard to deal with, but since I'd lost my family, he was the closest thing I had to a . . . to a father figure. "I understand, David."

"I would hope that you do." He placed his hands on his hips. "Look, take as long as you need here, then go ahead and head home. Remember, you're off until Wednesday, but I expect to see you at the meeting tomorrow."

Baby Jesus could land in front of me, and I wouldn't miss the weekly bitch session.

He started to leave but then stopped. "Did the fae say anything to you?"

Sliding off the bed, I ignored the tender pull of the skin over my stomach. "Nothing really. I mean, he creeped up on me after I got rid of another fae—a normal one who said the same old 'your world is about to end' crap, but this one? He called me a cow, that's about it."

David nodded, almost absently, and then with another swift reminder that I was off rotation, he left the room, leaving me staring into nothing. As I searched for my boots, I couldn't help but notice that the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn't faded, even with David saying he was going to contact the other sects.

The thing was, as I found my boots under the small table by the bed, I couldn't shake the feeling that while David didn't appear to be too overly concerned about the potential of an ancient roaming around, this was just the beginning of something big.





Chapter Three





Getting home took a little longer than normal since I wasn't feeling up to hoofing it anywhere, which meant dealing with traffic. I caught a cab and used the time to inconspicuously—because the cabbie was starting to give me a weird look—reassure Val that I wasn't dead, currently dying, or going to die anytime soon.

That I knew of.

"I have bad news," I told her as we neared the Garden District.

Val snorted. "Other than getting shot by some punk?"

I decided to tell her it was some random jerk on the street that shot me, which didn't take a leap of faith to believe. The fae weren't the only dangerous things on the streets of New Orleans. The cabbie had hit the break at that point, and I thought he was going to kick me out of the car or something. "Yeah, besides that. I can't work Saturday night. David pulled me."

"Honey, the moment you told me you were shot, I expected that. And honestly, that's the last thing you need to worry about."

"Thanks," I murmured, glancing out the window then doing a double take. A guy was riding a . . . unicycle on the side of the road, wearing a . . . blue cape. What the hell?

Only in New Orleans.

"Do you want me to swing by before I head out tonight?" she asked.

I glanced at the driver. "Nah. I'm just going to clean up and sleep."

"Call me if you need anything. Promise."

The urge to tell her what really happened last night was hard to resist. Not because I wanted to gossip, but because I wanted to warn her to be on the lookout. Sighing, I gripped my cell tightly. "Promise, but hey, be careful. Please?" The very moment that left my mouth, icy fear wriggled into my chest. Losing Val, the only real friend I'd made since moving here wasn't something I wanted to even consider. "You promise me that, okay?"

Val's laugh was airy. "I'm always careful."

Hanging up the phone after saying goodbye, I realized we were on Coliseum Street and edging to a stop against the curb shaded by thick oak trees. I dug into my bag and handed over some cash before climbing out.

The cabbie looked happy to be getting the hell out of there.

I was lucky with the place the Order had helped me find upon arriving in the city. While most of the Order lived closer to the Quarter, I was thrilled to be in the absolutely stunning Garden District, with its tapestry of trees, rich history, and old homes.

The house, about a ten-minute walk from Lafayette Cemetery No.1 was an antebellum home converted into two apartments, one up and one down. There were separate balconies with the entrance to the first floor at the front, and the entrance to my place along the back, which was accessed through a gorgeous courtyard overflowing with potted plants and flowers.

The iron cornstalk fence surrounding the entire property was an added benefit.

Well, up until now.

A shudder worked its way down my spine as I latched the gate behind me, and before I headed through the courtyard, I stared out at the cars flowing down the street. A warm breeze caught the loose curls at the nape of my neck and tossed them as I drew in an unsteady breath.

General mankind had no idea that fae existed because the Order had been able to protect them so far. Yes, some we couldn't save, but as a whole, we did a damn good job keeping them safe. But if that fae I ran into last night was an ancient, and if there were more around, or if they were no longer susceptible to iron, we were so screwed.

I wondered who I could even talk to about an ancient. David was obviously not going to be that helpful. The only person who came to mind was Brighton Jussier's mother Merle, a woman who knew a lot about virtually everything, but she was kind of . . . whacked.

Rumor had it that Merle got caught by fae without the protection of a clover and it messed with her head. Before then, she had been well-known as a brilliant mind in the Order, but now her mental state changed by the day.