The Prince: A Wicked Novella

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  That I was as brilliant as the sun.

  Nope. Wasn’t thinking about that or how no one, utterly no one had ever said something like that to me. I also wasn’t lying awake at night thinking about how he… he wanted to spend time with me. The real me. I wasn’t thinking about that at all. Nope.

  I hadn’t seen the Prince since our dinner of very yummy crab cakes and crawfish. Half of me had expected to run into him when I was out Wednesday night, but he hadn’t magically appeared out of thin air like he had before. And that was a good thing.

  Wasn’t like I was actually looking forward to seeing him.

  So I decided to focus on the important stuff, like what I learned about this Ancient named Aric who might or might not be trying to make contact with the Queen.

  And that was really bad news.

  The problem was if I talked to Miles, he’d question how I came about the information. That put what I was trying to accomplish in jeopardy. If I had to confide in someone who just might understand where I was coming from it would be Ivy and she would be back in the city in about a week.

  I had time.

  Anyway, I’d only been gone twenty minutes tops, so I was rather shocked by the current condition of the kitchen when I returned.

  Crossing my arms and then unfolding them before crossing them again, I looked around the room. I took a breath and then exhaled slowly. “Why does it look like the FBI raided my kitchen while I was upstairs?”

  And that’s what it seriously looked like.

  All the cabinet doors were open. Glasses were pushed around. Plates askew. Tupperware on the verge of toppling onto the counters. Pots and pans in the lower cabinets turned so their handles were jutting out.

  “Well, you see, it’s kind of a long story.” Tink sat on the edge of the island, his legs swinging and his wings twitching while the scent of fried meat mingled with the peach-scented candle that was burning behind him. Dixon was lying beside him, his long tail swishing idly.

  I turned to him and opened my mouth, but I was at a loss.

  “Dixon and I were playing hide and go seek.”

  That explanation didn’t help either. “How do you play hide and go seek with a cat?”

  Dixon’s ears flattened as Tink gasped dramatically. “Are you suggesting that Dixon doesn’t have the brain capacity to play hide and go seek?”

  “Dixon is a cat—a very smart cat, but a cat.” I shook my head as I walked over to the small kitchen table. “You are so cleaning this up.”

  “I was planning to.” Tink took flight, following me over to the table. He landed on the back of the white chair. “What are you doing? And don’t lie and say you have a date.”

  “I’m actually going to walk the Quarter,” I said, deciding not to lie. “There’s some younglings that have gone missing and I’m going to see if I can find any of them.”

  His brows knitted together. “Fabian mentioned something about that, but he didn’t seem too concerned.”

  “Well, Tanner and Faye are. They contacted the Order.”

  “Oh, and I bet the Order cares sooo much about a few missing Summer fae.” He walked along the narrow back of the chair like it was a balance beam. “They were basically ‘not my problem’?”

  “Pretty much. That’s why I was going to head out. The chance that I see any of them is pretty nil, but it can’t hurt to try.” Glancing back to the island after I heard the soft thump of Dixon dropping to the floor, I made another quick decision. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Tink halted, one little leg up in the air. His forehead wrinkled as he looked up at me and then glanced down to where Dixon was weaving himself around my ankles. “Nah, I need to clean up the kitchen.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded as he flew up so he was eye level with me. His wings moved quietly through the air. “Yeah, and I discovered this new show that I’m only a few episodes into.”

  Tink gave me a lot of crap about going out hunting without him, but Tink didn’t go out often. Sometimes I wondered if he had some kind of phobia surrounding the outside human world and that was why he didn’t travel to Florida with Fabian. Then again, he had traveled with Ivy and team to San Diego when they were searching down leads to stop the Queen.

  “What show?” I asked.

  “Santa Clarita Diet. It’s about this woman who becomes a zombie, but she’s not like a Walking Dead zombie. She’s basically trying to live her best life with her husband and daughter as a flesh-eating zombie.”

  “Okay.” I drew the word out. “Sounds like you have a fun evening planned.”

  “I do.” Tink flew with me as I went into the small mudroom that exited onto the porch and picked up my Saints cap. “Will you keep in contact with me?”

  Grinning, I pulled the cap on and shoved my ponytail up under it. “Of course.” Watching Tink when he was this size use a cellphone was quite amusing. “I won’t be out too late.”

  “Coolio,” he murmured, zooming back into the kitchen. A second later, I heard him yell, “Giddy-up Dixon, we must conquer the kitchen and then it’s Netflix time!”

  Shaking my head, I picked up my keys and shoved them into the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled my peacoat from a hook and shoved my arms through it. The last thing I put on was the iron cuff. That was a just-in-case thing. I started for the door and then stopped, pulling out a gray basket. I snatched up an iron stake and placed it into the pocket of my jacket. That was another just in case.

  I slipped out the side door and, after making sure it was locked behind me, I turned around and halted.

  An odd feeling crept along the nape of my neck as I stared at the narrow pathway that connected the front yard to the courtyard out back. Tiny bumps rose all along my body as I shivered, not from the cold but from… from the feeling of being watched.

  I walked to the end of the porch and saw no one in the courtyard or anywhere near the house. My gaze flicked to the house next door. All the curtains were in place. Coming back to the side door, I checked yet again that it was locked and then made my way to the front of the house.

  As I stepped off the porch and walked toward the front yard, I told myself it was just my imagination, but I couldn’t shake the eerie sensation.

  Couldn’t shake it at all.

  * * * *

  Emerald green beads whizzed through the air as the drunken college-aged guy in a one-piece hot pink bathing suit twirled in the middle of Bourbon Street, his white sneakers pounding off the pavement. The suit was cut high along the hips and the front was nothing more than two panels of cloth held together by a jeweled clasp. It was not the kind of bathing suit made to wear when someone actually planned on swimming.

  Or made to wear on a chilly March evening.

  The man spun, winging another strand of beads into the night as the crowd cheered him on. The back of the suit showed more of the man’s ass than it covered, but I had to say, it was a nice ass.

  Mardi Gras had ended over a month ago, so I really had no idea what this dude was doing with the beads and the bathing suit. But it was Friday night in the French Quarter, so I knew I was going to see far weirder crap before the night was over.

  Leaning against the brick wall of The Swamp, I sipped my ginger ale as someone shrieked happily from the courtyard behind me. Raucous laughter followed, and I figured someone had gotten thrown from the mechanical bull.

  One of these days I imagined that bull was going to snap and pitch a person head first through a window.

  Grinning at that because I was a terrible person, I took another sip of the carbonated goodness as I scanned the packed streets, looking for people that weren’t quite… people. I reached into the pocket of my lightly lined cotton peacoat, feeling a sharp trill curl down my spine as my fingers brushed over the warm, slim piece of metal.

  There was an eight-inch iron stake in my pocket and I was so not afraid to use it.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what I would be thinking if I had been out here two years ag
o. I wanted to be doing this, but I didn’t have the lady balls. Not only would the Order members have laughed like deranged hyenas, I would’ve laughed… and had a minor panic attack simultaneously, because I’m a good multitasker like that.

  Now I was more than capable of patrolling for the Order, but they didn’t know that and if they did, it wouldn’t matter. Just look at how they’d treated me today. Even if they saw me in action, it wouldn’t change their views.

  In their eyes, I wasn’t the same as them and I’d never be ready to take to the streets. Not at my age. It was so ridiculous, considering the Order had been nearly decimated.

  I drew in a shaky breath and it got hung up on the knot that had formed in my throat as my gaze swiveled back to the mayhem in the middle of the street.

  The guy in the hot pink bathing suit had no idea how close the world had come to chaos. None of the people partying in the streets, laughing, drinking, and shouting knew that so many people—people I missed with every breath I took—had their lives brutally ended in an unknown war with the fae.

  Hell, they didn’t even know that the fae were a real and almost always deadly thing that walked among them, blending in and hunting them. I never once wondered what it would be like to not know there were things out there that could end your life in a snap of their fingers, but I guess there was a blissfulness in that ignorance.

  Across the street, a woman stepped out from the throng of people milling up and down the narrow sidewalk, dressed in black leather pants and a tight black thermal.

  Crap.

  Recognizing Jackie, I slinked back against the wall and reached up, tugging the bill of my Saints’ ball cap lower. The dark-skinned Order member stood on the curb, arms crossed as she watched Hot Pink Bathing Suit Guy, out of beads now, bend over and twerk.

  Jackie was grinning now, but if she saw me, she wouldn’t be smiling anymore. She’d legit kick my butt and then drag said butt back home, because she’d know what I was doing out here.

  Which was utter bullshit. Logic dictated that the Order needed all the help they could get.

  But I wasn’t out here to patrol. I really was keeping an eye out for the younglings. I’d saved their photos to my phone, and pretty much had their faces committed to memory at this point. I figured if they were anywhere down here getting into trouble, they would be near Bourbon or Royal.

  Part of me didn’t think it would be a big deal if Jackie saw me or not. Probably would never cross her mind that I’d be out patrolling or anything like that. She’d probably think I was out grabbing dinner or something.

  I couldn’t risk it though.

  Because if she did figure out what I was doing, I risked her discovering my other extracurricular activities.

  Pushing away from the wall, I shoved both hands into my pockets as I pivoted to the left and headed for St. Louis Street. Crossing the street, I kept an eye out as I made my way toward Royal. It was so easy spotting tourists in the winter months. Locals were bundled up even though it was in the low fifties. Visitors were in T-shirts and jeans and skirts, obviously hailing from much colder climates. The Summer fae were the same, all toasty in their heavy jackets and wool beanies. You’d think it was below freezing seeing them, but the Winter fae? This wasn’t nearly cold enough for them.

  And it didn’t take me long to find one.

  Nearing Royal, I spotted the first suspicious fae of the evening and it wasn’t the fact the young man was wearing a thin shirt and worn jeans that gave him away as a not-so-friendly fae. At least this fae was a normal one.

  A shudder worked its way through me as I picked up my pace. I knew that the fae in front of me was not of the Summer Court, and it had nothing to do with how he dressed. It was the fact he was stalking a young woman who appeared to have just gotten off work from one of the many restaurants, her all-black server clothing partially obscured by one of those fluffy down jackets.

  I wasn’t technically patrolling, but if I saw a fae going after someone, I wasn’t just going to stand back and do nothing.

  I was so not about that kind of life anymore.

  My fingers curled around the thickest part of the stake as the distance between us evaporated. Fae hated all things iron. Just a mere touch would sting them, continuous contact would burn them.

  And this fae was about to meet the business end of the stake. A direct hit to the chest wouldn’t kill them, but it would send them back to the Otherworld. And with the doorways to the Otherworld currently sealed, that was as good as dead.

  Well, until the Queen decided to make another run for taking over the world and blew the doors wide open, but totes as good as dead until—

  The young male glanced over his shoulder, not paying a lick of attention to me, but I stumbled.

  Holy crap, I recognized the fae.

  It was Elliot—the missing cousin’s friend. I was sure it was totally him, but that didn’t make sense. He was of the Summer Court and lived at Hotel Good Fae. And he and his parents didn’t feed or prey upon humans.

  That didn’t mean they couldn’t. It was a choice they made, so that meant it was a choice they could change at any time. And who knew how many times that had happened in the past? It wasn’t exactly something anyone in the Order tracked.

  Elliot suddenly hung a sharp left, slipping between two buildings, into a narrow alley. The girl was almost upon the intersection of Royal now, no longer of interest to him. Maybe I was wrong about the whole stalking thing. That was good news, but what the hell was he doing and where had he been?

  Irritation spiked. Everyone worried the Order had killed this boy or that some other horrific thing had happened to him, but here he was, partying it up in the Quarter? So freaking annoying.

  I hesitated for a moment at the mouth of the alley, knowing that following a fae, even if they were friendly, into an alley wasn’t exactly the brightest thing to do.

  Jackie would follow him.

  Ivy sure as hell would do it.

  I could do it.

  I needed to do it.

  Squaring my shoulders, I drew in a shallow breath and followed him into the dimly lit passageway, prepared to let loose a lecture my mother would’ve been proud of—

  Wait.

  My steps slowed as a frown pulled at my mouth. The alley was a dead end, blocked by another brick building. Where in the hell did he go? I walked farther, past a large dumpster. Unless he was hiding in here, he’d….

  Slowly, I lifted my gaze to the two- and three-story buildings crowding the alley that smelled like stale beer and poor life choices. A fae could easily climb or jump that height, but not a fae who wasn’t feeding. A fae who didn’t feed was stronger than a human, yes, but they didn’t have super jumping—

  Thump.

  Tiny hairs along the nape of my neck rose as I heard something land softly behind me. Instinct roared to life as I clutched the iron stake and spun around.

  Elliot stood in the center of the alley, in the spot that had been empty seconds ago. Startled, I took a step back. For him to have made that jump…

  “You’re following me,” he stated.

  Apparently I had not been as stealthy as I thought. “Well, yes—”

  “I know you,” he interrupted, arms loose at his sides as he drifted closer.

  He did? I didn’t recall meeting him, but there was a chance he’d seen me at Hotel Good Fae in the days and weeks leading up to the battle with the Queen. But that was two years ago.

  “I’m not sure if we’ve met.” My heart started hammering in my chest. “But I know your parents.”

  His head cocked to the side, and in the darkness, his eyes looked like black pits.

  The hair along the back of my neck was still standing. “Your parents are worried about you, Elliot. Where have you been?”

  “My parents?” He straightened his head and moved even closer. “Those stupid posers? Those weak wannabe humans? They’re not my parents. Not anymore.”

  Uh oh.

  “And I know
you. You’re with the Order.” Elliot hissed like a cornered cat, a very large and very pissed-off cat, and even in the shadowy alley, I could see the sabertooth-like teeth descending from his gaping mouth.

  Oh crap, Elliot was so not on Team Good Fae anymore. Not at all.

  There was no chance to question why in the hell Elliot was suddenly all psychotic. Yanking at the stake, I realized too late I should’ve just engaged the cuff. Elliot launched into the air like a rocket. In one stuttered heartbeat, he was on me, his body crashing into mine. The impact knocked me off my feet and my baseball cap off my head, and I went down hard. Air punched out of my lungs.

  Never let them get you on the ground.

  Those words from the most basic of trainings roared through my head as my eyes opened wide.

  I’d been on my back before. I knew how this ended.

  Elliot crouched over me, gripping the collar of my jacket. Our gazes connected—

  Something… something was wrong with his eyes. They weren’t the pale blue of the fae. They were pitch black, so dark I couldn’t even see the irises.

  I’d never seen anything like that, not in person or in the many books I’d studied on the fae.

  Panic sparked deep in my chest as I struggled to get my stupid hand out of my pocket. The wicked sharp edge caught on the interior of my coat, snagging and tearing the cloth. He lifted me upward as he swung a fist back. Elliot punched down, but I flung myself up and over. His fist slammed into the pavement as my forehead cracked off his.

  He cursed as he jerked.

  Rocking backward, I ignored the bitter taste of fear and swung my legs up, wrapping them around his narrow waist. Using my weight, I flipped Elliot off me as I rolled. On top of him, I reared back as I pulled the stake out, tearing the pocket in the process. I lifted it high, preparing to jam it straight through his chest.

  Elliot’s fist connected with my stomach. The burst of pain stole my breath, but I powered through it, swinging the dagger downward.