Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(3)
Not a single human or animal in this world was stronger or faster, and their talents ran the gambit, anywhere from telekinesis to igniting the most violent of fires with a brush of their fingertips. But the most dangerous weapon was their ability to bend mortals to their will, enslaving them. Fae needed humans. Feeding off mortals was the only way the fae slowed their aging process down to a lifespan that rivaled immortality.
Without humans, they'd age and die just like us.
Sometimes they played around with their victims, feeding off them for months, if not years, until nothing was left but a dry husk of what used to be. When they did that, they poisoned the human's body and mind, turning them into something just as dangerous and unpredictable as the fae. But sometimes they just outright slaughtered their victims. People like Val and I couldn't be warded against the feeding and the effects at birth, but centuries ago, the simplest and smallest thing had been discovered to null their abilities to manipulate us.
Nothing was more unexpectedly badass like a four-leaf clover.
Each member of the Order wore one. Val had a clover encased in her bracelet. I wore mine inside my gemstone tiger-eye necklace. I even wore it at home when I showered and slept, having learned the hard way that no place was truly one hundred percent safe without one.
Seeing through the glamour that enabled them to blend in was how we were able to spot and hunt them. Their true forms were equally beautiful . . . and disturbing. Skin a silvery color, kind of like liquid nitrogen, and incredibly smooth. Their beauty was eerily flawless, with high angular cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that tilted up at the outer corners. Everything about their true form was creepily alluring, in a way that made it hard to look away. The only thing the fairytales and myths got correct was the slightly pointed ears.
"Fucking fae," muttered Val.
My sentiments exactly since they had taken everything from me. Not once, but twice, and I hated them with the passion of ten thousand blazing suns.
Other than the ears, the fae were nothing like Disney painted them, or the ones Shakespeare had spun tales about, and they, like all their distant relatives, did not belong in this realm. Long, long ago, the fae had discovered a way to breach the divide between the mortal realm and theirs, what was known as the Otherworld. The summer and winter courts, if they'd ever existed, had been dissolved, and there was just one ginormous group with one really scary, totally typical goal.
They wanted to take over the mortal realm.
And it was our job to send them back to the Otherworld. Or kill them. Whatever worked the quickest.
Problem with that was the fact they weren't easy to do either of those things to, and they'd woven themselves into every facet of the mortal world.
As the fae passed our table, Val smiled up at her, all friendly innocence, and the fae returned a tight smile, having no idea we saw right through it all.
Val looked at me and winked. "That one is mine."
I flipped my textbook shut. "No fair."
"Saw her first." She stood, smoothing her hand along the wide leather belt she wore over the waist of her skirt. "See you later." She started to turn. "Oh, and seriously, thank you for Saturday night. I'll get laid and you'll be able to live vicariously through me."
I laughed as I shoved my book into my bag. "Thanks."
"Always thinking of others. Peace out." Spinning around, she easily sidestepped another table and disappeared into the throng of people crowding the sidewalk.
Val would catch up to the fae and lure it to a place where she could quickly dispose of it without the general populace witnessing what would probably look like cold-blooded murder.
Things got really awkward really fast when an unsuspecting human stumbled upon that mess.
Other than the mortals that fae kept around for a multitude of nefarious reasons, most of mankind had no idea that the fae were very real even though they were everywhere. And in cities like New Orleans where a whole crap ton of weird could go down without anyone batting an eyelash, they were a plague upon the city.
As I lifted my gaze and stared out at the swaying palms, I wondered how it was to be like everyone walking up and down the street. To, well, live in blissful ignorance. If I'd been born into any other family than the one I was, so many things would be different.
I'd probably be graduating from college in the spring. I'd have a large group of friends where memories instead of secrets linked us together. I might even have a—gasp—boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Immediately, the busy street I sat on faded away. It was just me and . . . God, three years later and it still cut deep to even think of Shaun, and it took no effort to picture those soulful brown eyes. Some of the detail was beginning to fade—the image of his face had begun to blur, but the pain had not lessened.
A seed of sadness rooted deep in my stomach, and I desperately ignored it. Because what did my mother used to say? Not my real mom. I had been too young when she was killed to remember anything about her. My foster mother—Holly—used to say if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets. It was a quote she picked up from some book, loosely translated into there was no point in spending time on wishes.
At least that's how I took it.
It wasn't as if I didn't know how important my job—my duty—was. Belonging to the Order, a widespread organization full of knowledge that had been handed down through families, generation after generation, meant my life had more meaning than most.