Wicked (A Wicked Saga #1)(40)
Author: J. Lynn

I nodded. "We do."

Chapter Twelve

There would be no funeral held for Trent.

As far back as I could remember, the Order did not remember the dead with wakes or funerals. Throughout the years, the bodies of the fallen were buried with little to no fanfare until the Order began cremating the remains some thirty years ago.

I remembered asking Holly once, when I was a small child, why we didn’t have funerals. Her response had stayed forever etched into my mind. "The Order wants to remember the fallen as they were before, all that they have given, and not what remains once the greatest sacrifice for freedom has been made."

To this day, I still didn’t understand how that was a show of respect.

A dismal part of me thought it had more to do with the fact that so many Order members passed in a year’s time from all the sects around the world, that if we did have funerals, we’d constantly be attending one.

It was kind of depressing to think about. The world had no idea all that we gave to protect them, and when, as Holly had said, we gave the ultimate sacrifice, not even the Order stopped to remember us. Here one second and gone the next without so much as a few words uttered over our urns.

Brighton called me back on Wednesday while I was in the shower, and it took several hours to reach her on the phone again. Turned out she and her mom were in Texas visiting family. They wouldn’t be back for another week, and I made plans to see them upon their return. When I told her about Trent, she seemed surprised and saddened. Not that he and Brighton were close, but like everyone else, she couldn’t believe that he’d fallen to the fae.

"Be careful," was the last thing she said to me before we hung up.

Those words haunted me for the remainder of the day and then some, because for some reason, I didn’t feel careful. I felt reckless. A week ago, I knew what I was doing and what to expect every day. As crazy as my life was, in some respect, it was static. I got up. Went to class if I had them, and hunted fae if it was my night to work. My job had always been dangerous, but I knew the fae and my own limitations. I didn’t keep secrets, especially from David. I didn’t have clandestine missions, and I sure as hell didn’t suspect any member of the Order of joining up with the fae. There had been no Ren. But everything had changed in a short period of time.

The world as I knew it was different.

On Tuesday, Ren met me outside the café on Canal before our shift.  I was slurping away on an iced coffee while skimming notes from class. Like Val had done so many times before, he plopped down, but beside me, not across from me.

"What are you reading?"

Setting my coffee aside, I debated whether or not I should answer him, but decided staying quiet about it seemed dumb. "Notes from my juvenile delinquency class."

"That’s right. You’re a sexy college student," he said, but I had a feeling he hadn’t forgotten that at all. "I do think it’s pretty cool that you’re doing that."

I picked up my coffee and sucked some down as I eyed him through my sunglasses. "Do you?"

"Yeah. I’ve never had a real desire to enroll in college. I mean, I know I could if I wanted to, but I never have. So that’s just cool to me that you do this." He paused as he watched a group pass us. Then he turned those ultra-bright eyes on me. "Got to take a lot of drive though, to do this plus go out and hunt Monday through Friday."

I shrugged. "I don’t have classes Tuesday and Thursday, so it’s not that big of a deal, and I want . . ." Blushing for some dumb reason, I clamped my mouth shut.

"You want to be more. I get it." He reached out, found a curl, and tugged it straight. "What do you want to be?"

Staring at him, I wondered if he was able to read minds because it was uncanny how easily he read me. Kind of freaky. "A social worker," I admitted.

"That’s good," he said quietly, and let go of my hair.

Unsettled by the entire conversation, I closed my notebook and shoved it in my bag. I started to stand when he spoke. "You don’t let people get close to you, do you?"

Again, really freaking uncanny. Sliding my bag over my shoulder, I forced my voice to stay level. "You get close to people and they end up dying on you. Not really too keen on that."

Ren rose. "Not everyone is going to die on you."

"Everyone dies, Ren."

He smirked. "That’s not what I meant, and you know that."

I did, but whatever. I walked around the table, and didn’t take many steps before Ren caught up to me. I expected him to keep pushing the subject, but he didn’t. We ended up making plans to pay a visit to Flux on Saturday, the night both of us were off. We figured it was less risky to put some time between Monday night and when we ventured inside Flux due to the fact they probably realized the Order had killed three fae just outside their doors. Also, since we weren’t on the schedule we didn’t have to worry about anyone wondering where we were and what we were up to.

Every night that Ren and I worked, we kept an eye on Flux. Twice we saw Marlon there, and he wasn’t with the ancient who shot me, but last night, Friday evening, we saw a different ancient arrive at the club with Marlon. Both men were too perfect in appearance, their features pieced together in an extraordinary way that turned their beauty cold and artificial. There was absolutely no doubt in our minds that he was also an ancient. The way he walked into the club was inhuman, just as Marlon did, as if the wind itself moved their limbs. Nothing in this world was as graceful as the fae.

That meant there were at least three ancients in the city. Three fae that even Order members could mistake as mortals. Three fae who held untold power and could not be stopped by an iron stake.

I didn’t tell Val about our plans since I had no idea what we’d be facing in there, and I knew if I did tell her she’d demand to be involved. So it was yet another secret I was hiding, but as Saturday evening approached, I knew keeping her out of the loop was the best decision even though she’d be pissed the second she found out.

But I had other, more pressing concerns at the moment anyway.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror hung on the back of the closet door, I studied my reflection with a critical eye. I hated wearing dresses, but I’d seen how the girls had looked going into the club, dressed in a way that ensured men would gladly drop to their knees. They’d looked great—classy and sexy. Two things I wasn’t quite sure I knew how to pull off without looking like a little girl playing dress up. A huge part of me wanted to slip on a pair of jeans, but I needed to blend in.

I owned three dresses. One was a brown and white floor-length maxi. The second was in a shorter, peasant style that was definitely not dressy enough. What I was wearing was my final option, the only one that came remotely close, and I hated it.