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"I'm not entirely sure what he believes, but he does know about the Elite. He doesn't know anything about what we do, but since he knows the only way I could know about the Elite is because I'm a part of it, he's willing to listen to me."
"Well, that's just nice," I said snidely.
"Hey, at least he's freaking listening to us. Like us, he knows there's someone in the Order that is working with the fae. That's why he wanted you and Val out of the room. I don't think he suspects you, but . . ."
Cold air hit the back of my neck. "I think . . . I think he does."
"Wouldn't make a damn bit of sense if he did. You were shot by one of them. He can't ignore that."
I wasn't sure. Why else would he make me leave the room? A sick feeling of betrayal twisted up my insides.
"He does know about the ancients, but since they've never been active, he and Miles have kept them quiet. They apparently feared that the fae would be going for the gate, and David was already pulling in extras to cover them, but I don't think they realized until tonight the seriousness of what is happening. I don't even know why he is giving you so much shit about it."
Probably because I have a vagina, and that was just flat out bullshit. This whole thing was bullshit.
"Either way, he wants us at the gates." Tugging me to the side and out of the path of foot traffic, his gaze found mine. "Where did you hear about the other gate not working?"
My stomach roiled even further. This is where I had to lie. I hated it, but I couldn't tell him the truth, and I loathed that I was about to bring my friends into this. "I talked to Merle this morning. She said that the gate in the church no longer worked—that all the gates had been destroyed except the second one." As I spoke, I could feel anti-karma points stacking up. "I figured that if she's been right about everything else, she'd be right about this too."
"All the gates have been destroyed?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I guess that's not something the Elite knows then?"
"No. Never heard that in my life." He dropped my hand, thrusting his fingers through his now dry hair. "How does she know this?"
"I don't know," I said quietly. "But if it's true, then . . . what if the fae know that?"
He shook his head. "I hate to say this, but I don't know, Ivy. That doesn't make sense. Not at all."
How could I convince him without telling him about Tink? There was no way around it. "Did he tell you where the second gate is?"
Ren nodded. "We're standing right in front of it."
I jerked, looking around. "What?" My gaze fell to the gray, three-story building. Understanding sunk in. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Wasn't this one of the houses that TV show used on their horror show?" Ren asked.
I stared up at the famous haunted house on Royal Street, reputedly the most haunted house in New Orleans. A place that harbored a terrible, brutal history. What Merle had said came back to me. The second gate was located in a place where no humans or spirits could rest.
In other words, a haunted house, but ninety percent of New Orleans was rumored to be haunted. "Is this the…?"
Ren shook his head then placed two fingers under my chin, turning my gaze to the brick building beside the grandiose home. "That's where the gate is."
Chapter Eighteen
Monday night was dead. Not a single fae was roaming the streets of the Quarter or hanging out in the club in the warehouse district. Instead of that being a thing of relief, it brought forth a great sense of foreboding. Monday nights weren't hopping by any means, but not a single fae? Something was very wrong with that.
As our shift drew to a close, we ended up back in the Quarter, on Phillip Street, where Ren had stowed his bike. My head was in a thousand different places—the location of the second gate, the possible traitor, what would happen on Wednesday—when Ren asked, "Come home with me."
Standing on the corner of the street, under the faint flickering glow of the streetlamp, I frowned. "What?"
Ren smiled faintly. "Come home with me tonight, Ivy."
I shifted my feet, taking a step back. The request thrilled me . . . and frightened the holy hell out of me. With everything that happened today, I hadn't had much time to think about what Ren and I were doing, even with the panty-dropping hot kiss he unloaded on me at headquarters or the way he held my hand as we walked to the old brick home on Royal Street.
My heart kicked around in my chest as I stared at his shadowed face. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."
"It's a great idea. Possibly the best idea I ever had."
Off in the distance, someone howled with laughter. "I don't think—"
"Stop thinking." Ren took my wrist, gently unfolding my arms. "You do that too much."
"I don't think you can possibly think too much," I reasoned as my gaze dipped to where he held my wrist between us. Truth was, I didn't want to go home yet. Since I had no idea what to do with Tink, my apartment above the lovely courtyard was a very lonely place to be.
Ren sighed as he smoothed his thumb along the inside of my wrist. "I'm not going to take you to my place and ravish you, Ivy."
My mind was full of images of him stripping my clothes off, holding me down and doing whatever he wanted to me, and parts of my body got really excited about that prospect.
"Unless you want me to, then I'm all for it," he continued, his tone light. "I'll do whatever you want, just . . . come home with me."
I lifted my gaze to his, and his stare was unflinching, open and honest. The laughter was drawing closer. "If you don't want that from me, why do you want me to come home with you?"
A look of confusion flashed across his face and then he gave me a half grin. "First off, Ivy, I do want that from you. Always. Hell, it's what I've been thinking about since the first time you took a swing at me."
"That's . . . kind of demented."
He ignored that. "But it's not the only thing I want from you. I like hanging out with you. I like spending time with you."
Weirdly, that never really occurred to me, which made me feel kind of stupid, like why wouldn't that have ever crossed my mind? Sometimes I felt like I had the experience of a fifteen year old. To be honest, I liked hanging out with him. These last couple of weeks working with him had made my shifts more enjoyable. Not that I didn't like doing my job, but he made things . . . different.
Looking up at him, I almost said no—almost. "Okay."
The slow grin spread into a full smile that showed off those dimples, and the urge to stretch up and kiss each of them was hard to ignore. The ride home was as uneventful as the evening, but it was strange walking into his apartment at night, as if we were going there to engage in some naughty behavior.
I was nervous as he flipped on the overhead light then headed into the kitchen, grabbing us something to drink. With a beer in one hand and a soda in the other, he swaggered over to the couch, placing both on the coffee table.
As he toed off his boots and socks, he eyed me through his thick lashes. "You know, you can sit on the couch."
I sat on the couch, folding my hands together in my lap.
He shook his head at me. "There's something I actually want to show you—give you. Be right back."
Give me? What could he possibly want to give me? A kiss? I doubted he had to go into his bedroom to get that. And did I want a kiss? I had no problem with those kisses yesterday. God, I didn't know what I wanted.
Or I wasn't ready to acknowledge it.
Either way, Ren returned and sat on the couch beside me, a slender ashy colored wooden stake in his hand. "It's a thorn stake. It'll kill ancients." He placed it in my hand, wrapping my fingers over the smooth, thicker end. His eyes met mine. "I wanted you to have this. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but we kind of got distracted."
Oh, we'd gotten way distracted. "I can't say a guy has ever given me a weapon of stabby awesome before."
That mouth curved up on one side. "Obviously
you've never met a
