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’tessential.
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.” Ithadto.
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 somethingsup 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 areal 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.
Breasts pushed against the plummeting neckline, comingthisclose to falling out, and the cheeks of my butt peeked out under the stretchy material.
I straightened, smoothing my hands down the sides of the dress. Okay. Definitely not bending over in this in public.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my makeup case and went into the bathroom. The makeup took awhile, because I had to take my time to get it right, but when I was done, my face was virtually unrecognizable. Cheeks contoured until they were sharp and high. Lips outlined to be plumper and filled in with a color that was only a shade or two darker than my natural lips. I even filled in my eyebrows before tackling the eyes. I gave myselfwhat I thought was a dark and smoky, mysterious look. Since I was leaving the contacts out, I put on some false eyelashes, and decided that if I didn’t end up with a sty at some point during this, I was a mutant.
Back in the closet, I browsed the selection of wigs as I nibbled on my fingernail. Blonde. Red. Brown. Black. Purple. The vibrant wigs would draw too much attention at a place like The Court, so I picked the short, chin-length black wig and slipped it on, securing it in place and then combing it down so it was smooth and sleek.
The boots were… difficult. Made of some kind of stretchy material that covered the calves and knees with no zipper, I almost winged them across the bedroom trying to get them on. Sweat dotted my forehead by the time I was completely dressed.
