Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

"No doubt." Ren ran a hand through his hair, knocking the wayward curls off his forehead. His eyes met mine before glancing away.

"We better get going before David comes out and finds us all hovered together," Dylan said, pulling his hands free. "Y'all be careful."

"You too." I promised Val I'd call her tomorrow, and we parted, heading in opposite directions.

"You two are close," Ren commented as we made our way toward Royal. The Quarter on a Monday night wasn't too busy. A lot of people were out, but you could walk without too much interference. "You and Val."

"We are. She was the first person I met when I moved down here. And she's really friendly with everyone so it's not hard to become friends with her."

Ren nodded. "I can see that. Seems like a very friendly girl." The way he said the last part made me look at him. He flashed a quick grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm pretty sure she's visually molested me a few times since I got here."

I laughed softly. "That's Valerie." I tucked a stray hair back as I blew out a breath. "Trent . . . I don't even know what to think."

"I do."

Deep down, I did too. "You think what has happened to Trent has to do with why you're here—the ancients?"

"Think about it. The identities of those guarding the gates are kept secret for the sole reason that if someone is tortured, they cannot give up the locations. You guys lost four members, and I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be surprised if the other three had similar injuries," Ren said, voicing my earlier misgivings. "For whatever reason, David is keeping that quiet."

"I know." I stared over the people, seeing the Chateau Motel looming ahead at the corner of Phillip and Chartres. "You know, every one of the members killed could've been guards. All of them were highly skilled. With the exception of Cora, they'd been in New Orleans for years."

"But what's the likelihood of the fae or the ancients stumbling across the guardians of the gates?" he asked.

My heart skipped a beat as we both looked at each other. A sour taste filled the back of my throat. Suspicion bloomed. "Unless they knew who to target."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "There's only one way they'd even have a general idea of who could be guarding the gates."

Meaning someone within the Order would have to be assisting the fae, and God, that was horrific to even consider, but Ren was right if those who'd been killed were guardians. That was a big if, but it wasn't impossible.

"Can we stop for a second?" Ren asked, and then he took my hand, leading me under the balconies of the Chateau. Brown waves toppled onto his forehead as he dipped his chin. "How is your stomach? No bullshit, okay?"

"It's . . . it's a little tender, but it's not a big deal. I'm not bleeding or anything. It's fine." My fingers itched to reach up and brush the curls aside, but that seemed wildly inappropriate. Not that Ren appeared to be the type who cared about that.

"And how are you?" When I didn't answer, Ren reached up, placing the tips of two fingers against my temple. "How are you up here?"

"I'm . . ." It was another question I wasn't sure how to answer. No one really asked any of us that kind of question. We'd been raised in this world, so I guessed people assumed we just dealt with things. "Trent wasn't always easy to get along with. The things he said has half the Order thinking I'm crazy, but I'd never wish him dead."

"I wouldn't think you would," he replied softly.

Swallowing hard, I took a step back and leaned against the wall, suddenly bone weary. "Do you think David knows more than what he's putting out there?"

His shoulders rose with a deep inhale and he lifted his gaze. He didn't speak for a long moment, and the sense of unease deepened. His eyes met mine. "I don't know. Anything is possible, but everything has to be connected. The fae migrating here, the ancients engaging with the Order, members with experience dying and being tortured, and that club where ancients and human cops are hanging out at? Something is going down there. We need to get into it."

I nodded. "We do."

Chapter Twelve

There would be no funeral held for Trent.

As far back as I could remember, the Order did not remember the dead with wakes or funerals. Throughout the years, the bodies of the fallen were buried with little to no fanfare until the Order began cremating the remains some thirty years ago.

I remembered asking Holly once, when I was a small child, why we didn't have funerals. Her response had stayed forever etched into my mind. "The Order wants to remember the fallen as they were before, all that they have given, and not what remains once the greatest sacrifice for freedom has been made."

To this day, I still didn't understand how that was a show of respect.

A dismal part of me thought it had more to do with the fact that so many Order members passed in a year's time from all the sects around the world, that if we did have funerals, we'd constantly be attending one.

It was kind of depressing to think about. The world had no idea all that we gave to protect them, and when, as Holly had said, we gave the ultimate sacrifice, not even the Order stopped to remember us. Here one second and gone the next without so much as a few words uttered over our urns.

Brighton called me back on Wednesday while I was in the shower, and it took several hours to reach her on the phone again. Turned out she and her mom were in Texas visiting family. They wouldn't be back for another week, and I made plans to see them upon their return. When I told her about Trent, she seemed surprised and saddened. Not that he and Brighton were close, but like everyone else, she couldn't believe that he'd fallen to the fae.

"Be careful," was the last thing she said to me before we hung up.

Those words haunted me for the remainder of the day and then some, because for some reason, I didn't feel careful. I felt reckless. A week ago, I knew what I was doing and what to expect every day. As crazy as my life was, in some respect, it was static. I got up. Went to class if I had them, and hunted fae if it was my night to work. My job had always been dangerous, but I knew the fae and my own limitations. I didn't keep secrets, especially from David. I didn't have clandestine missions, and I sure as hell didn't suspect any member of the Order of joining up with the fae. There had been no Ren. But everything had changed in a short period of time.

The world as I knew it was different.

On Tuesday, Ren met me outside the café on Canal before our shift. I was slurping away on an iced coffee while skimming notes from class. Like Val had done so many times before, he plopped down, but beside me, not across from me.

"What are you reading?"

Setting my coffee aside, I debated whether or not I should answer him, but decided staying quiet about it seemed dumb. "Notes from my juvenile delinquency class."

"That's right. You're a sexy college student," he said, but I had a feeling he hadn't forgotten that at all. "I do think it's pretty cool that you're doing that."

I picked up my coffee and sucked some down as I eyed him through my sunglasses. "Do you?"

"Yeah. I've never had a real desire to enroll in college. I mean, I know I could if I wanted to, but I never have. So that's just cool to me that you do this." He paused as he watched a gro

up pass us. Then he turned those ultra-bright eyes on me. "Got to take a lot of drive though, to do this plus go out and hunt Monday through Friday."

I shrugged. "I don't have classes Tuesday and Thursday, so it's not that big of a deal, and I want . . ." Blushing for some dumb reason, I clamped my mouth shut.

"You want to be more. I get it." He reached out, found a curl, and tugged it straight. "What do you want to be?"

Staring at him, I wondered if he was able to read minds because it was uncanny how easily he read me. Kind of freaky. "A social worker," I admitted.

"That's good," he said quietly, and let go of my hair.

Unsettled by the entire conversation, I closed my notebook and shoved it in my bag. I started to stand when he spoke. "You don't