Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(14)

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 . . . strange.

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. . ."