Tink raised his brows.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You know, you used to totally support me going out there and finding the fae responsible for killing my mother.” I twisted toward him just as Dixon scampered across my bedroom, launching himself onto my bed. “I have a name now. The Ancient who was with the fae that night. The one who ripped my mother’s throat out and tried to gut me.”
“I know, and that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t go out there looking for him.”
“I don’t understand your logic.” I pointed the tube of mascara at him. “I’ve been searching for him, and now he’s here, somewhere in this city. I’m going to find him.”
“Aric’s an Ancient, Brighton,” Tink argued. “They are not easy to kill, and they’re incredibly dangerous. Way more powerful than an ordinary fae.”
“I know that. Look, after I saw him at that bar Thieves, no one else has seen him. But Neal has been sighted at Flux. Neal is working with Aric.” I turned back to the mirror, and heavily lined eyes stared back at me. “If anyone knows where to find Aric, Neal will.”
“And you think you can make him tell you?”
“You don’t need to sound so shocked by the idea,” I muttered, opening the mascara.
“Neal is an Ancient, too. He’s been alive for hundreds—”
“I know what an Ancient is, Tink. Look, they’re doing something to the Summer fae younglings, turning them evil. This isn’t just about me.” And that was true. I suspected that I knew what was responsible, a substance called Devil’s Breath. It was similar to one of the world’s most powerful drugs derived from a borrachero tree—scopolamine, South America’s zombie drug. Harris, who had since passed, wrote about it in one of his journals, saying that a white, powdery substance had been found in nightshade, a drink the fae favored. The only way to be sure that it was responsible for what had caused the youngling to turn as he had was to catch one who was infected or get my hands on the drink.
“We need to stop them,” I said.
“Ivy and Ren will stop them.” Tink leaned against the doorframe. “That’s their job.”
An uncomfortable rush of heat rose to my skin as I looked back at Tink. “It’s my job, too. I am a member of the Order, despite the fact that everyone keeps forgetting about that.”
Tink’s pale blue eyes widened. “I know you are. I didn’t mean it wasn’t your duty. You’re—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off, knowing that whatever compliments he gave me about my battle prowess wouldn’t be words he believed. Over Tink’s shoulder, I saw Dixon stick his furry ass in the air, shaking it for a second before attacking my pillow, sinking his claws and teeth deep as he rolled.
I’d gone through so many pillows because of that cat.
I sighed, turning back to the mirror to get back to work finishing the rest of my makeup. In other words, I made myself look like a walking and breathing Snapchat filter.
It wasn’t just makeup I was putting on. I was reshaping the angles of my cheeks and brow with shading and highlighting, skills I had picked up from a YouTuber who was probably all of thirteen years old. I was drawing in fuller, pouty lips with a liner, and creating the illusion of wider eyes by using thick eyeliner and deepening the lower eyelid with foundation and shadow. Combined with my newly contoured face and the long, curly, black hair courtesy of a wig, no one would recognize me as Brighton Jussier.
Except him.
He would know it was me.
I closed my eyes as a pang lit up my chest. Damn it. I was not going to think of Ca—of the King. Nope. Not at all.
After swiping on a layer of mascara, I shoved the wand back into the tube. Finished, I stepped back and got a full look at myself.
The thigh-length, super-tight, black dress and red lips combo could be summed up in one word. Vampy.
Dressing this way wasn’t exactly normal for me. I was a sweats and a T-shirt type of girl, but no one in this world or the Otherworld was more distracted by tits and ass than the fae, male or female.
Brushing past Tink, I went back into my closet that used to be a small nursery.
Tink followed. “The black knee-highs would complete your I-charge-a-lot-for-sex look.”
“Perfect.” I snatched them up.
He watched me shove my feet into the footwear. “Why don’t we have an Avengers marathon tonight?”
Right boot halfway zipped up, I stopped and looked up at him. “We have watched every one of those movies five times, even Captain America. I don’t think I can sit through another Captain America.”
“The movie is a little boring, but Chris Evans’ fine ass makes up for it.”
I tugged up the zipper and moved to the other side. “True, but not today. It’s Saturday. Fabian is back. Aren’t you going to spend time with him?”
“He can come over,” Tink suggested, clapping his hands excitedly. “You know I’m leaving soon. I’m going to be out of town for, like, forever. We should spend time together.”
Tink was finally going with Fabian to Florida, where a large populace of Summer fae lived. For the last two years, the Prince had been trying to get Tink to visit, but he wouldn’t. The brownie claimed it was because he wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment, but I thought it had more to do with the fact that Tink didn’t go out much. He’d gone with Ivy to California once, but other than a trip to Hotel Good Fae—the compound where the Summer fae lived—he stayed home. I imagined the human world was a bit overwhelming to him.
“You’re not going to be gone forever,” I pointed out, admitting to myself that I was going to miss him and Dixon since he was taking the cat with him. “You’re only going down there for a few months.”
“That is forever. Come on, it will be the best threesome ever.”
Straightening, I arched a brow.
“Chris Evans. Popcorn. Face masks. That kind of threesome.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached into the cubby hole, grabbing what looked like simple bracelet cuffs. In reality, they hid iron blades sharp enough to pierce fae skin and cut an Ancient’s head off. “You can still have that threesome without me.” I snapped the cuffs into place. “I’ll be home late.”
Tink turned. “The King doesn’t want you out there.”
I stopped, and it took me a moment to face him. “That’s why you’ve gone from wanting me to take you with me, to asking that I don’t go out.”
He lifted a shoulder.
Taking a step toward him, I reminded myself that I liked Tink and stabbing him wouldn’t be cool. “Have you been telling him I’ve been hunting?”
The brownie’s face went impressively blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Tink.” I met his stare and held it.
He threw up his hands, startling Dixon enough that the cat released my pillow. “I didn’t tell him anything, but just so you know, if he demands it, I have to. He’s my King.”
“Really?” I replied dryly.
“Yeah. Sort of. But, seriously, he hasn’t asked me if you’ve gone out, but he has told me that he doesn’t want you out there. It’s not safe. He thinks—”