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. . ."
Trent looked me in the eyes for a full two seconds before his gaze dropped to my breasts. Typical. "Didn't you get shot?"
Good to know what happened last night had spread through the Order. "Yeah, but it was a flesh wound." I turned, glancing back at the bar. I was going to have to kung-fu people out of the way to get a look at the bartenders. "Nothing big."
"Also thought you were off rotation until Wednesday," he said.
"I am. I'm not working."
He was like a wolf with a cornered rabbit. "Then why are you out here?"
I shrugged. "Why are you?"
"Wanted to see the score on the game."
I faced him, arching a brow. "Seriously?"
His dark eyes dropped again, and I resisted the urge to plant my fist in his face. "Actually, no. I caught a couple of fae coming out of this bar over the last week. Wanted to check it out."
Well hell bells, I wasn't the only one who noticed that. Trent might have a perverted, wandering eye, but he was good at what he did. And the deep scar under his lip spoke of all the times he'd tangled with the fae. "I saw one come out of here last night, so I was curious to see what was going on."
"Thought you weren't working."
I shot him a peeved glare. "Just because I'm checking something out doesn't mean I'm working."
"Uh-huh." He chuckled as he nodded up at the bar. "Bartenders are normal tonight. Not sure if that's how it is every night or if one of them is working for the fae." He folded muscled arms across his huge chest. For what he lacked in height, he sure made up in width. The man could probably knock down a small house with all the muscles he was packing. "Either way, I'm going to hang here, see if I can catch anything."
"Streets are dead, aren't they?" I asked as a guy bumped into my shoulder.
He nodded. "I heard that you said a fae shot you," he said, and I cursed under my breath. Harris must've talked because I doubt David would have. Me trying to cover up what happened didn't help if someone else was talking. I wanted to do what David had ordered and keep my mouth shut and all, but I couldn't help thinking it was wrong and put other Order members at risk.
Screw it.
I faced Trent. "It was a fae who shot me, and I'm sure you also heard that it made a gun appear out of thin air. It wasn't a normal fae, Trent. I stabbed it with iron and it did nothing."
His lips twitched as he looked over my head and at the screen behind the bar. "That sounds . . . batshit crazy. Like as crazy as Merle sounds."
I stiffened as if cement had been dropped down my spine. I felt a lot of sympathy for that woman. A huge part of me . . . well, I could understand her, and I didn't like hearing anyone talk like that about her.
"That's ignorant," I said, my voice calm even though I was seconds from introducing his face to the power of my uppercut. "She was a member of the Order, and you should respect everything that woman has sacrificed."
Trent tipped his head back and laughed through his nose. "With or without my respect, that doesn't change the fact that she's crazy." Shaking his head, his gaze flipped to mine then dropped to my chest. "Man, I gotta say, it was a bad idea when the Order started allowing females in. You guys just can't handle—"