Torn (A Wicked Trilogy Book 2) (20 page)

I sat on the corner of the couch, wrapped up in the soft chenille blanket. The TV was on, the volume turned down low, and I had no idea what was being said or what was happening.

I couldn’t un-see what I’d seen in that club.

As long as I lived, I would never forget the sight. Glenn had been right. I’d seen a lot of crazy and messed up stuff, but nothing ever like this. So much death—senseless death.

Even David had been unsettled, and it wasn’t because he couldn’t hide that many deaths from the public. The detectives were going to spin it as some kind of cult—mass suicide or something—but people weren’t stupid. Some were going to be seriously suspicious, but they’d never believe the truth anyway.

I’d overheard Kyle say he’d seen something like this before once in Dallas, where the fae had turned on the humans that had served them for one reason or another, feeding on all of them until they were gone. That too had been pawned off as a cult offing themselves because a comet hadn’t shown up or something.

I didn’t understand why this had happened. The fae didn’t need humans for anything other than food, but having their assistance in some areas had to be helpful. Why would they kill them, and why now? There were too many questions.

Before I left, I’d closed the waitress’ eyes, and on the way back to my place I’d called Ren. There was still no answer, but I didn’t leave a message for him this time.

Ren’s face blurred with the waitresses’ and back again, and instead of seeing her, I saw him, lying on his back, his beautiful green eyes dull and unfocused, all life gone from them. Once that image was fully implanted in my brain, I couldn’t get it out.

Hours passed, and I might’ve dozed off, but it felt like I blinked and then it was morning and Tink was sitting on the arm of the couch, a few inches from my face. And not tiny Tink. Oh no. This was full grown Tink . . . in pants.

A hell of a way to wake up.

I jerked into a sitting position and drew back, staring up at Tink dumbly. “You’re . . . people-sized.”

He cocked his head to the side. “There’s something about using the word ‘people-sized’ that just sounds offensive.”

My gaze dropped. “And you’re wearing jeans.”

“You like them?” He looked down at himself and nodded. “Got them off of Amazon. They were something called True Religion.”

“You . . . you bought True Religion jeans?”

Tink batted his blue eyes at me. “They were like two hundred dollars, so I figured they were good jeans.”

I stared at them and plopped down on the other end of the couch, planting my face into the pillow.

“I thought you’d be happy about the fact my junk isn’t hanging out,” he said.

I closed my eyes.

“And here I thought I was doing a good thing.” Tink paused. “I guess I could go naked—”

“No.”

There was a moment of silence. “I think I have a rather attractive form when I am small
and
tall. I also think that most women and a lot of men would be more than happy to see me naked.”

I closed my eyes.

“You should be happy,” he continued.

I grimaced.

“Because I’m quite attractive,” Tink added. “Just in case—”

“I get it, Tink.”

“Goody gum drops.” Another pause. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

I didn’t answer.

Tink nudged my leg with his hand, which felt weird because he was people-sized. “Are you and Ren still fighting? If so, there’s a chance you might want to see my junk.”

I pried one eye open. “I don’t want to see your junk
again
, Tink.”

“Huh,” he said.

Several seconds passed and then I said in a scratchy voice, “A whole bunch of people were killed last night. They were fed on until they died, and some of their bodies were hung from the ceiling.”

“Whoa,” Tink said. “That’s a buzzkill.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, sucking in a deep breath. “And Ren is missing.”

“What?” Tink shrieked, startling me. I sat up and he jumped—all six and a half feet of him—onto the coffee table. He crouched there, on the edge in a feat of anti-gravity. “What do you mean he’s missing?”

I broke it down for Tink, skipping the whole “telling Ren what I was” part and ending with, “I don’t know what to do.”

Tink hopped down and sat on the coffee table. “I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, who knows? Maybe he’s off licking his man wounds? Or maybe the prince has captured him. Both make sense. Ren’s his competition.”

My heart flopped over in my chest as I rose, unable to sit or be in the apartment any longer. My muscles ached from sleeping in a cramped position. “That’s not helping,” I said.

“Sorry?” He stood. “I’m really not good at saying sorry and sounding like I mean it, but I
do
mean it.”

I walked around the couch and stopped by the bedroom door. “I get it.”

Tink followed behind me. “Would now be a bad time to talk about getting that kitten you—”

Shutting the door behind me, I walked into the bathroom. I showered and changed in record time, gathering up my wet hair and securing it in a knot. I grabbed my weapons and walked back out.

Tink popped up from the couch. “You’re leaving already? It’s like nine in the morning.”

“I know.” I walked to my purse. “I just can’t sit in the house. I need to be out there.”

“Doing what?”

That was a good question and something I’d thought about while I showered. We had some intel at headquarters on possible locations of fae cells—homes where we had evidence fae lived. Places we kept an eye on, but hadn’t raided because we weren’t a hundred percent positive fae actually lived there. I was
this
close to knocking on their doors.

“You’re going to do something dumb, aren’t you?”

“No.” I picked up my bag and draped it over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go out.”

Tink leaned over the back of the couch. “I can go with you.”

I raised an eyebrow as I picked up my keys.

“Not like this. I haven’t gotten around to buying a shirt yet, but I can make myself small and you can put me in your purse,” he offered.

“I am not putting you in my purse.”

Tink folded his extremely well-muscled arms over an extremely well-defined chest. “It could work. I can help you look for Ren.”

I walked to the door. “Maybe next time.” I stopped, thinking of something I should’ve done a long time ago. “Order a new phone from Amazon for me, one that comes with an answering machine.”

Tink wrinkled his nose. “Why? I don’t use the house phone.”

I exhaled noisily through my nose. “I know, but I can call it and leave you messages. Like if I’m running late or if there’s a problem.”

“Oh.” His gaze roamed to the ceiling. “Good idea. I bet I can one-hour that shiz. Let me see.” He started toward the kitchen, and I couldn’t, God help me, couldn’t help but notice how low his jeans hung and that he really had a—oh God, no! I blinked tightly as Tink itched at his scalp. “I just realized I’ve never used the home phone to call you before. I could have kept tabs on you. How have I not thought of that?”

“Guess my luck with that just wore off,” I muttered. “Order it, please.”

I left before Tink could convince me to bring him with me, which wouldn’t be hard, because there was a part of me that kind of wanted to stash him in my purse. With the way things were going down, he was a good ace to have up my sleeve.

I caught an Uber into the Quarter and got dropped off on Decatur. I walked past Cafe Du Monde and crossed the street, entering the park.

It was early enough that it was relatively quiet as I made my way down the pathway. Frost covered the grass, and if it were a couple of degrees cooler, my breath would be leaving little puffy mists.

I really needed a better game plan than busting up on random doorsteps. I could go back to headquarters and pour over the intel that we did have on best possible places. If I could find a fae that wouldn’t kill itself immediately, I could possibly find the prince—find Drake.

I stopped in front of the statue of Jackson and folded my arms around my waist. Maybe that was why I was out here. Maybe, deep down, I came to this park because I’d seen the prince here before. Tink was right. Being out here, hoping to lure the prince out, was stupid, but if Ren was missing, it had something to do with him.

If anything happened to him, I could never forgive myself. I hadn’t even really forgiven myself over what had happened to Shaun yet, and that seriously
had
been my fault. I’d made a horrible series of choices that inevitably led to his death, along with my adoptive parents, Holly and Adrian.

I looked up at the statue of Jackson, exhaling roughly. I knew that I hadn’t done anything on purpose other than getting close to Ren, but God, I didn’t want to go through this again. I didn’t want to—

“Ivy.”

My heart stopped in my chest. I recognized that voice. I
knew
that voice. Half-afraid it was my imagination, I turned around slowly. My breath caught in my throat, and emotion exploded in me like a Roman candle.

Ren stood behind me.

Chapter Eighteen

“Ren,” I whispered, staring up at him, almost not believing he was standing there. Suddenly I was tossed back in time, to the first time I’d seen him.

I’d lay bleeding on the steps of the headquarters from a nifty little gunshot wound, and I’d thought I was seeing things. He’d reminded me of one of the angels painted on the ceilings of old churches. It sounded ridiculous, but the classic hard line of his jaw and those chiseled features had been almost perfectly pieced together. Even the mess of curly waves was like the painted angels I’d always been fascinated with. I’d seen a ton of hot guys before, especially since moving to New Orleans. Sometimes the city was a melting pot of hotness, but Ren could hold his own compared to a fae, and that was saying something.

He reminded me of that now, standing before me like an avenging angel.

My heart pounded so fast that I felt sick, and I spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Where have you been?”

Ren stepped closer, so that he was standing under the shadow of Jackson with me. “I’ve been around.”

“David has been trying to call you. I’ve called. I thought . . .” I took a deep breath, willing my heart to slow down, but nervous energy had taken over. Standing in front of him now that he knew I was the halfling was seriously overwhelming. “I thought at first you just disappeared because of what I told you about myself. And then I feared that the prince had taken you—oh God, I haven’t even told you about all of that.” I winced. “I was going to tell you. I swear, but you left after I told you about me being the halfling, and I didn’t get the chance to tell you everything.”

“Ivy—”

“I saw the prince twice. He was actually here, just outside the park, the first time I left the apartment, and he showed up when I chased Val.” I rushed on, needing to get it all out before he uttered another word. “He was the one who killed Val, Ren. He knocked her right off the rooftop like she was nothing but a discarded . . .” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Like a piece of trash. Then you came to see me, and I’d planned on telling you the truth earlier in the evening before Henry interrupted us. I couldn’t go another second without you knowing, so I told you and then you disappeared—”

“Ivy.” His hands, cool from the morning air, cupped my cheeks, silencing me. Ren was touching me. He was actually touching me despite what he knew. “It’s okay.”

I had to be hearing things. “I don’t understand.”

He smiled crookedly. “What don’t you understand?”

Wanting to return the touch but unsure of his reaction even though he was touching me, I made fists at my sides. “I’m the halfling, Ren.” My voice was low. “I’m this . . . this abomination.”

His head tilted. “You are not an abomination.”

My breath caught. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do.”

Disbelief thundered through me. “That doesn’t make sense. You know what being a halfling means. I’m not even completely human. The prince wants to knock me up to have an apocalypse baby—”

“I wish you would stop calling it that.” His brows furrowed.

“But it’s true.” I stepped back, and his arms fell to his sides. “I mean, I’m still Ivy, but I’m also this . . . this
thing
, and you came to New Orleans to find the halfling. How can this be okay? Especially after what happened to your friend when you were growing up? And now that Kyle and Henry are here, members of the Elite who know that Val wasn’t the halfling, how can any of this be okay?”

His emerald gaze flickered over my face. “Because I will make it okay.”

Ren said it so simply that I almost believed him. I opened my mouth, but there weren’t any words, so I just shook my head. I didn’t understand how he could make it okay.

Ren reached for me. “Ivy—”

I held up a hand, warding him off for reasons I didn’t fully understand. “You called me a ‘
thing’
after I told you that I loved you, and then you left me standing on the street. And look, I’m not really even judging you for that. Yeah, it was kind of shitty, especially since you disappeared afterwards, but I dropped a massive truth-bomb on you. So I get why you needed time to deal with everything, but I don’t get—”

Ren moved fast, curling one hand around the nape of my neck, and before I could take my next breath, his mouth was oh-so close to mine. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but I was shocked,” he said. “Now I’ve had time to think about it and everything will be okay.”

It was like my brain had shut down and I’d lost all critical thinking abilities, because I heard what he was saying, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There had been a tiny part of me which had hoped Ren would accept what I was when I told him, but I had recognized how foolish and naïve that was. Our duty had been ingrained in us since birth. To Order members, fulfilling our duty was the most important aspect of our lives, and with Ren being an Elite, even more so.

I could hope all I wanted, but reality was . . . well, it was the cold, harsh truth that was inescapable.