Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

"Mama." Brighton sighed, moving to stand behind her mother's chair.

"I wish you wouldn't call her that," I said. "Valerie's really nice. Just because she dates a lot doesn't make her a hussy."

Merle tilted her head to the side as she picked up her glass. "Honey, that's not what makes her a hussy."

I wanted to know what did, but the last thin

g we needed was to get off track, so I decided it was time to change the subject. "Merle, this is Ren—"

"I know who he is," she said, much to my surprise and Ren's. She took a sip of her tea as she eyed him over the rim of the glass. "Renald Owens."

"Renald?" Looking at him, I raised both brows. "Your full name is Renald?"

Was that two splotches of pink I saw blossoming across his cheeks? Ha! He was blushing. "Why do you think I go by Ren?" he replied drily. "Ma'am—"

"Call me Merle, sweetheart. And you're going to ask how I know who you are. I know—well, knew of your parents. I hope they are still well?"

"Yeah, they are." Ren shook his head, thrown off.

Merle continued to appraise him. "That's a fine looking young man, Ivy."

My eyes widened, and I didn't even dare look at Ren.

She winked at me, and Brighton patted her on the shoulder. "Mama, they're here to ask you about something important."

"Oh, I know they are. Why don't you two take a seat?" She gestured at the chairs across from her. "Cop a squat or so they say."

Ren passed a long, bemused look in my direction as we did as she ordered. Once seated, I tried again. "We're here—"

"Like I said, darling, I know why you're here. It has to do with the Elite." She giggled like a young girl. "Don't look so surprised, handsome fellow. I said I knew your parents. And I know all about the Elite, and if you're here, that means the ancients are up to no good."

Floored, all I could do was stare at her. Holy crap, this whole time Merle really did have this knowledge. Excitement bubbled up, but chasing after it was a great sense of distrust. This was too easy.

"You know about the ancients?" Ren leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees while Brighton shifted uneasily behind her mother.

"I know that not all fae wish for the same." She studied him for a moment while I thought that was an extremely bizarre statement. "Son, I also know why you're really here. I know what it means if you're here."

I tensed, suddenly cold despite the warm breeze tousling the many flowers. Ren sat back, his expression slipping from his face, replaced by a blank look that turned my stomach to ice.

"Ma'am," he began, but she wasn't having it.

"I know what the Elite does. I know that your kind hunts the ancients, but that's not the only duty you have." She shook her glass and the ice clinked loudly. Her smile started to slip as her gaze drifted to me. "What do you want to know, doll?"

Well, hell, now I wanted to know what Ren's other duty was, which was apparently something I didn't know, but Brighton spoke as she knelt beside her mother's chair, drawing her attention. "I think they want to know where the gate is here."

"Of course." Her scrutiny moved to her glass. "I used to be a guardian."

I swallowed my gasp. I'd always known that Merle had been high up in the sect, but I had no idea she was a guardian. Good Lord, if what she said was true, then she really did know the location of the gate, and right now, that piece of knowledge was the most important. I'd deal with Ren later.

"I know about everything," she continued, her gaze fixing on something I couldn't see. "The wards used to seal the gates, the blood required to open them, the crystal that can heal." Her smile was fleeting and quick though I had no idea what the hell she meant about the crystal. "Then I met my match. Or so they say. I really do not recall that day."

"Mama," Brighton whispered, reaching out and clasping her mother's hand. "Do you know where the gate is?"

"My darling girl," she murmured, cupping Brighton's chin as she smiled blithely. "There isn't just one gateway in our city. There are two."

I inhaled sharply. "There are two?"

She nodded as she reached for the pitcher and poured herself another glass of tea. "Yes. Should you be surprised? We're in New Orleans, and well . . . the land here, it's tainted and it's blessed. It is the only place I know where two doorways to the Otherworld exist."

"Are you sure?" Ren asked. "I mean no offense by that question, but I have never heard of two doors being in one city or even within a hundred or so miles of another."

"No offense taken." A wisp of blond hair blew across her face. "One is located in the sanctuary, and the other is in a place where the atmosphere is so unsettled not even the humans or the spirits can rest."

Brighton winced and ducked her chin.

My heart sank. "Merle, I'm not following."

She arched a brow at me. "It's pretty simple, girl. Both are well known, and I don't know how to be much clearer."

I had several ideas how she could be clearer, but as Merle flicked her attention to Ren, I knew her mind had moved on. So many times in the past, she would make a vague statement that made perfect sense to her, and she would not, under any circumstance, explain herself further. It also meant her 'good day' was rapidly coming to a close. Frustrated, I forced myself to sit still in the chair. "Merle—"

"Shush it," she said, and I jerked back, gaping at her while she continued to eyeball Ren. "Back to the more important thing. Have you found it yet?"

Ren's shoulders stiffened, and the tension rolled off of him, settling over the courtyard like a coarse, too heavy blanket. He gave a barely discernible shake of his head.

"You need to find it," Merle said, the harmony dropping from her tone. "You know what will happen if they open the gate."

He lifted his chin. "I know."

What in the hell was going on here?

A tremble shook Merle. "If the prince comes through—or the princess—and they find it, everything is undone, Renald. Everything."

I looked at Brighton in confusion, but she shook her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"

Merle stood, her hand clenching the glass in her hand until her knuckles turned white. "Renald, I fear those gates will break this time. It's in the wind. It's in the very song of the birds and in the soil. They will not fail with the gates this time."

Okay, this was getting weird. Typical, but weird, because that was what the ancient had said last night, and when I looked at Ren, he didn't . . . he didn't look too surprised, and the ice in my belly spread to my veins.

Merle stepped toward Ren. "You must find the halfling."

Chapter Fifteen

A halfling? What in the world? All thoughts of everything else vanished. My gaze bounced back and forth between Ren and Merle, and any other time I would've dismissed this as Merle having a bad moment, but Ren . . . yeah, he still didn't look shocked by anything this woman was saying, and I was sure I was rocking one hell of a what-the-fuck expression at the moment.

"Halfling?" Brighton spoke, shaking her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"

She finally tore her gaze from Ren and stared at her glass again. "It should not exist, but it does. Not for very long. It cannot be. Or at least that's what they say," she mumbled, the hand holding the glass beginning to shake. "There used to be more. Hundreds, if not thousands, but now? Maybe a handful. Maybe not even half a dozen. Because they are a threat to it all. To everything," she spat bitterly.

Ren stood up and shot forward, but it was too late. The glass in Merle's hand shattered. Tea and sharp shards exploded, raining to the ground. Blood mixed in, and I jumped out of my seat, eyes wide.

"Mama!" Brighton gripped her arm, her face paling. "What did you do? You cut yourself!"

Merle frowned as she stared at her bloody hand. Pieces of glass glinted in the sunlight, stuck in her palm. "I'm not sure, darling girl, but it does not feel that pleasant."

"I'm sorry, but I think you two need to go." Brighton wrapped her other arm around her mother's shoulders. "It's been enough for today."

I didn't stop her. Too disturbed by what Merle had done, I watched Brighton usher her toward the back of the house.