Tink was hanging upside down from my headboard, his wings spread out on either side of him and his little face inches from mine when I woke up.
That summed up how my Saturday morning was going.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I groaned, tugging the comforter up over my head. “Again?”
“I was making sure you were breathing,” he answered. “Your chest was barely moving. I was kind of worried.”
I rolled onto my side, keeping the comforter over my face. “You didn’t seem worried last night when you told me to feed Caden and you weren’t even waiting up for me.”
“I did wait up for you!” There was a thump near my head that alerted me to Tink dropping down on the pillow. “And I wasn’t worried about the—wait, what? Did you just call him Caden?”
Crap. I squeezed my eyes shut. Caden. That was his name and there was a flutter deep in my chest that made me want to smile and scream at the same time. “I meant the Prince.”
“No, you didn’t.” A small hand pushed at the back of my head. “What did you do? Did you do more than feed him? Did you feed him with your vag—”
“Oh, my God, Tink, no.” Not that I hadn’t tried, but I kept that to myself. “And if you weren’t worried about me then why did you think I wasn’t breathing?”
“You’re old. You could’ve had a heart attack for all I know.”
“I’m not old.” I ripped the comforter off my head and glared at the little brownie. He was wearing a pair of leather pants, and I had no idea how he got a pair of leather pants in his size nor why he was wearing them. “Jesus, Tink.”
“Look, heart disease is the leading cause of death among women—”
“It’s not heart disease. I was sleeping. Normally. But then you woke me up.”
“Sorry?” He plopped down in front of my face. “So, I’m assuming Caden is okay?”
“He is.” I wiggled a hand free and scrubbed it down my face. “He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”
“Good.”
Rubbing my eyes, I shifted onto my back. “So, how did you know that he… that he healed me?”
“Fabian told me, and I don’t know how Fabian knew. Guessing he told him.”
“And you never thought to mention this to me once?”
“How was I supposed to bring that up? Oh, by the way, the Prince saved your life, pass the salt?”
“Actually, yes, you could’ve brought it up that way.”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
I turned my head toward him. “You did tell the secret.”
“Yeah, but I had to. Anyway.” Tink leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands. “So, what happened between you two?”
“Nothing,” I sighed.
“Something happened because you’re calling him Caden,” he pointed out. “And the only person who calls him that is his brother… and now you.”
Head still clouded with sleep, I rolled onto my other side, away from Tink. “I need coffee,” I told him, throwing the comforter off. “But I need a shower first.”
“To wash away the aroma of a really, really good night?”
“Shut up.” I tossed my legs off the bed and stood. The room immediately went tipsy turvy and I sat back down. “Whoa.”
“You okay?” Tink was in flight, his eyes wide with actual real concern.
“Yeah.” I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I just stood up too fast. That’s all.”
“You should be careful.” He placed his hand on my arm. “Take it easy today.”
I smiled at him. “I plan to.”
His gaze searched my face and then he buzzed off toward the door. “I’ll go turn the coffee on.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Tink made it to the door and then stopped, facing me. “You do realize how much of a big deal it is that he told you his name?”
Pushing the mess of hair out of my face, I bit down on my lip. The fae were very peculiar when it came to their real names, as were most Otherworld creatures. Obviously, Tink wasn’t Tink’s real name, just one that Ivy had given him. “Is Caden his real name?”
His wings moved silently as he nodded. “I believe it is an abbreviation of his name, but yes, it is his name. He shared that with you. That means something, Lite Bright.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter though. Tink flew out of the room. Did it mean something? I didn’t have the answers, and honest to God, my brain was so not ready for a bout of over analyzation.
So, I got up a lot slower and got my butt in the shower. It was somewhere between shampooing and conditioning that I remembered where I’d seen something about black fae eyes.
It was in one of the old books about the history of the fae in New Orleans that Mom had curated over the years, collecting them from retired and deceased Order members. I’d skimmed through them as I shelved them, so I had no idea if it had any useful information, but as soon as I finished showering and towel drying my hair, I changed into a pair of black leggings and a lightweight black tunic-style sweater and decided to find out.
After making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, I went back upstairs to the office. The air was stale in the room and particles of dust floated in the beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows, so I flipped on the ceiling fan.
Ignoring the clutter on the desk, I walked to the bookshelves that lined the wall as I sipped my coffee.
There were a lot of books and journals, along with personal diaries. Hundreds of them. And I’d almost finished my drink before I found what I was looking for, a worn, forest green leather bound journal marked Roman St. Pierre.
Taking the journal to the chair that sat near the window, I placed my mug on the old chest and tucked my legs under me. I knew who Roman was. He used to be one of the doctors within the Order and I was pretty sure he’d passed away well over a decade ago. Thumbing past accounts of patrols and random passages about research, I found the section I was looking for.
Dated June 1983 was an entry about a fae who’d been cornered outside an establishment on Decater oddly named… Vanilla. My brows rose at that, but I kept reading and found what I was looking for.
Two male fae were viewed leaving Vanilla and captured a block west. Both appeared to be Changed.
Changed? What the…? I reread that line to make sure I’d read that correctly, and I had.
Their eyes were pitch black, opaque in nature, like the fae that had wounded Torres, confirming Torres’ account of the previous attack. Once held in captivity, they experienced rapid degeneration, the likes of which we have not witnessed. Within four hours, there was nothing left of them but dust. Harris believes it was due to their inability to feed, however our previous research suggests that fae can continue living without feeding…
Harris was one of the docs who worked for the Order. Unfortunately he’d died since, so I couldn’t call him and ask why in the world a fae would die in that short of a timespan. Or a better question would be what did they mean by infected? I kept reading, turning pages until I reached another entry dated a month later regarding the ‘Changed fae’.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, nearly dropping the book when I saw her name.
Based on the samples Merle brought back to headquarters, our suspicions concerning the Changed fae were correct. The drink the fae favored had been altered. Trace amounts of an unknown powdery substance similar to Devil’s Breath was found in the nightshade. We believe that this substance, which has originated from the Otherworld, is responsible for the Changed fae’s increased violent aggression and rapid degeneration. The effects of this substance may be similar to that of Devil’s Breath.
Seeing my mom’s name caused my chest to compress. It took several moments before I could continue, but when I did I discovered something quite disturbing.
Several pages had been torn out of the journal in many different places, and there was no other mention of Changed fae or Devil’s Breath.
Closing the book, I sat there for a moment. Was that place still there? Vanilla? I didn’t think so since I’d never heard of it. Rising from the chair, I hurried over to where the desktop computer sat. It took a Godawful amount of time for me to get to Google since there were about a million update alerts. After an eternity of false leads, I found the location of where I thought Vanilla used to be. Near the Candymaker store, there was now a bar called Thieves. I hadn’t heard of the place, but that didn’t mean much, because there were a metric crap ton of bars and clubs in and around the Quarter.
Pushing back from the desk, I went to the coffee table, where the stack of maps Mom had of all the secret fae hidey holes were. I spread the maps out, dragging my finger along the old parchment until I found where I was pretty confident Decatur was….
And yep, there was a mark above the location where Thieves was.
“Hell.” I straightened, popping my hands on my hips. I probably would’ve eventually checked out the place, but I hadn’t made it that far on Mom’s maps.
Wondering what the hell Devil’s Breath was, I went back to the computer and typed it in… aaand immediately wished I hadn’t.
Devil’s Breath was a very real thing, one of the most powerful drugs in the world derived from a borrachero tree. It was called scopolamine, South America’s zombie drug. When used illegally, it could strip a person’s free will, erase their memories, paralyze, and even kill them. Apparently, some doctors prescribed some form of it, for what, I didn’t even want to know. But if there was an Otherworld plant similar to this, God only knew what it meant if it could strip the will of a fae—
Well, we already knew what that meant, didn’t we? Caden was proof of what could happen when a fae—a very powerful fae—had their free will stripped.
Unsettled by the implications, I started Googling the bar known as Thieves and then moved onto public records such as tax and owner information. Hitting the motherload of information, the unease grew when I saw one of the names.
Marlon St. Cyers.
He was one of the Ancients who’d sided with the Queen and had been a powerful real estate developer. He was deader than dead now, but there was another name listed as the owner.
Rica Car I
That was a strange name. Like so strange the longer I stared at the name on the screen the more I began to think it wasn’t an actually name at all but an anagram. An anagram for what?
Grabbing a pen and a notepad, I got down to writing out different variations and it didn’t take long for me to come up with a name—a name that was the same for both words.
Aric.