“That won’t be necessary.” Miles faced me then. The man was in his late thirties, possibly early forties, and he’d seen a lot of messed-up stuff, especially after David’s betrayal. He was the hardest man to read, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile. Not even once. “Hanging up the photographs should be enough.”
That wasn’t enough. I knew damn well no one ever looked at the bulletin board. There was still a picture of kittens Jackie had been trying to adopt out over a year ago. “Talking with them would only take a minute or so. One of these missing younglings is Faye’s cousin,” I added, thinking that would get him to agree, since Faye had helped the Order a million times over.
Miles strode over to where I stood and took the file out of my hands. He opened it and thumbed through the photos. “None of them look familiar.” He turned to Rick. “What do you think?”
Glancing over them, Rick lifted a shoulder. “Not to me, but they all kind of look the same.”
“Really?” I tensed. “Did you really just say that?”
He smirked. “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not, and that sounds really—”
“Don’t say racist,” Rick cut me off. “The fae are not human. They are not people.”
“Wow.” I started toward where he sat and stopped myself. “They are kind of a race of beings, so the term racist would apply.”
“That’s not how that works,” he replied, grinning that irritating shit-eating grin up at me.
Miles spoke before I could. “Hang up their photographs, Brighton. I’ll tell those on patrol to keep an eye out for them.” Closing the file, he handed it back to me. “But I’m telling you now, if one of them did come across one of those younglings and it ended badly, ain’t none of them going to come forward with that info.”
I figured that much, but hearing Miles say it like it was no big deal sent a wave of disappointment through me. “They should. They’re not supposed to harm them. If you think they have, shouldn’t there be consequences?”
Rick laughed—straight-up laughed.
“What?” I demanded, feeling my cheeks start to warm.
“You don’t patrol, honey. You sit behind a desk and you read books and study maps, sometimes you help out in the infirmary and you handle shit that we don’t need to know about. If you did patrol, then you’d know that shit happens out on the street and one second of hesitation can get yourself killed. We’re not going to punish someone for doing their job.”
Heat blasted my face, and I came so close knocking him out of the chair and explaining to him that I knew exactly what happened when you hesitated, but I managed to restrain myself. “First off, don’t call me honey, and more importantly, don’t sit there and talk to me about how dangerous these streets are. I know better than you do.”
He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t done. “We’re not supposed to harm the Summer fae. End of story. That’s not our job and the new protocols—”
Rick scoffed as he lifted his hands. “Fuck the new protocols.”
“Do you hear him?” Exasperated, I turned to Miles. “I mean, you’re standing right there.”
“Thank you both for stating the obvious and speaking as if you are the leader around here,” Miles replied dryly. “Hang the pictures, Brighton. And you?” He turned to Rick. “Shut the hell up, Rick, and get out there.”
And with that, Miles stalked out of the office, whistling loudly to gain the attention of everyone who waited in the main hall.
I was dismissed without really even being dismissed. How freaking messed-up was that? Not that I should be surprised. Again, to Miles and to everyone here I wasn’t essential.
Rick rose, brushing my shoulder as he walked past me. He stopped at the doorway and waited until I faced him. “What?”
He studied me a moment. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’d even care about those fucking fae, after what they did to your mother—did to you?”
Nausea twisted up my insides, but I pushed past it. “The Winter fae attacked my mother and me. Not the Summer fae. Not these boys.”
“Does that really matter? What court they claim to belong to? Does that make a difference?” he challenged.
“Yes. It does.” It had to.
Something akin to pity crossed his face. “Whatever. You do realize that hanging their photographs up is pretty pointless, right?”
“Why?” I lowered the file. “Because no one is going to care?”
“Well, yeah, that. But it’s pointless because if they’re legit missing and one of us does recognize them, they’re probably no longer in this realm. They’re dead for all intents and purposes.”
Chapter 11
I’d copied the photographs and tacked them onto the bulletin board, over Jackie’s year-old kittens’ poster, even though Rick didn’t think it would make a difference. I’d also managed to corner Jackie before she headed out for patrol. She hadn’t recognized any of the younglings, and I believed her. Jackie might be old school and not exactly a fan of any fae, but she wasn’t a liar.
When I got home, I’d made Tink and me pan-fried hamburgers for dinner, cleaned up and then went upstairs to change.
There was another spot in the city the fae frequented called, ironically, The Court on Canal. It was a little more laid back on the first level, featuring a bar that was surprisingly busy for fae on a Monday night. The second floor was not laid back. It was… well, I had seen some things up there. Things boric acid couldn’t erase from my eyes or my brain.
The place was near the Quarter, a little hole in the wall that tourists and many of the locals overlooked. I’d spotted one of my targets there once before, but I’d lost sight of him once he left.
The Court on Canal couldn’t be discovered on a Google search or on any must-see lists for when someone visited New Orleans.
The place was where nothing should be.
I’d found it on one of my mother’s maps and one day I’d checked out the location and discovered that it was very much a real place—a place that not even the Order seemed to be aware of.
Once I was done finding the fae who’d attacked that night, I’d hand over the maps to Miles. I would tell him about The Court… and the other places. Just not yet.
I was hoping tonight would be as fruitful and not as eventful as Saturday night. I wasn’t worried that I’d run into the Prince again, even though he so obviously knew it had been me Saturday night. I’d been to The Court numerous times and hadn’t spotted him once.
Plus I was planning to keep an eye out for the missing younglings during my travels. I knew it was unlikely, at least I hoped, that I’d see one of them at The Court.
After a quick shower, I pinned my hair flat and got down to becoming someone else. Walking into the closet, I knew the perfect dress for tonight.
Black. Short. Simple.
Plucking it off the hanger, I wiggled into it, relieved to see that the material was some kind of stretchy knit as I tugged the hem down. It ended mid-thigh. I turned to the floor-length mirror and did the bend-over test.