the street, in front of Brighton and Merle's house. And it was no chaste or quick kiss. I didn't even think Ren knew how to do chaste kisses.
His warm mouth moved over mine, insistent and seductive. With my hands clutching the helmet between us, all I could do was let myself be swept away by the feel of his mouth on mine.
And it did feel damn good.
The bike still hummed under us, and as his tongue glided over mine, I gasped into his mouth. I felt his lips curve into a smile against mine, and I wanted to pitch the helmet into the street and climb all over him.
Ren's mouth brushed mine as he murmured, "Mmm."
"What . . . what was that for?" I asked, blinking.
He laughed as he turned, switching the engine off. "It was a just-because kiss. Get used to it. You're going to get a lot of them."
I stared at his back. "What if I don't want them?"
He looked over his shoulder, arching a brow. "You want them."
I sighed. I did want them.
"So why are we here?" He glanced up at the house, expression curious. "Are we already in the moving in together stage?"
"What?" I scoffed at him as I hopped off the bike. "No."
Grinning, he climbed off and stood next to me, the helmet dangling from his fingers as he eyed the fence. "So what's the deal?"
"A friend of mine lives here. Her name is Brighton and her mom used to work for the Order. She . . . she was caught once and the fae fed off of her, and she really was never the same again." Glancing at the house, I drew in a shallow breath. "Merle knew everything—still knows everything. She was pretty high up there. She might know where the gate is."
Ren stiffened as his green eyes met mine. "Are you serious?"
I nodded. "Just depends on what kind of . . . mood she's in. I tried getting in touch with her before, but they were out of the state."
He tilted his head to the side, and the sun glanced off his cheek. "You've known that this woman could tell us the location since the beginning?"
"Yes." I didn't flinch from his steely gaze. "But when I first went to talk to her and she wasn't here, I didn't exactly trust you."
He dipped his chin. "So you're saying you trust me now?"
"Obviously." I threw up my arms, helmet and all. "Or I wouldn't have brought you here."
"You would've just gathered the info yourself and . . ."
"I probably would've told you we needed to check out the place. I just wouldn't have told you where I got the info."
"Smart girl," he murmured, his shoulders relaxing. "Well, let's do this then."
I frowned. "You're not mad?"
He knocked a wayward curl off his forehead. "I get why you didn't trust me outright, but you do now. That's what matters."
As he started toward the gate, I sprung forward and grasped his arm. "Please remember that Merle sometimes doesn't act right, okay? She may be completely fine or she might not be."
His features softened. "I understand, Ivy."
Relieved, I let go of his arm and we started up the sidewalk. Just as we reached the front porch, the door opened and Brighton stepped out, her golden hair pulled back in a high ponytail.
Brighton was in her late twenties, and as far as I knew, she'd never been married—never got close to that. She used to be active in the Order, but after the incident with her mother, her life revolved around taking care of Merle. It couldn't be easy and had to be lonely.
Wearing jean shorts and a tank top, she came down the steps, her sandals smacking off the wooden boards. Tiny pieces of dirt clung to her shorts. Brighton was gorgeous in that southern way. Like if this was a hundred years ago, she'd blend right in with the belles at the ball; she had that kind of delicate beauty.
Her serious and somber brown gaze moved from me to Ren as she drew up short in front of us. I stepped forward. "Brighton, this is Ren. He's a part of the Order."
She gave him a small, reserved smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're new."
"Yes, ma'am," he drawled, doling out the charm. "I'm from Colorado. Just transferred here at the beginning of the month."
She smoothed her hands along her shorts. "Wow. You're a long way from home."
Ren smiled, the curve of his lips effortless. "That I am. Your home is beautiful. We don't have houses like these back home."
"Thank you." She turned sideways, glancing back at the house before addressing me. "May I ask what you'd like to see my mother about?"
I didn't know how happy Ren was going to be with the amount of info I was about to share, but he was just going to have to deal with it. "There's some crazy stuff going on in the city. As you know, we've lost four members in a very short period of time, and we think . . . we think they were guardians of the gate."
Brighton's eyes widened with alarm. "What?"
"We think the fae are trying to open the gate here," Ren chimed in. "And you know that the gates are weakened on the equinox—"
"They can only be opened on the equinox and the solstice," she corrected, folding her arms across her waist. "What does David have to say about this?"
"We haven't told David yet." Here came the tricky part. "Brighton, if the members killed were guardians, and it looks like they might've been, then someone within the Order has to be feeding the names to the fae. We can't—"
"You can't trust many then, if that's the case." She pressed her lips together as she shook her head. "You want to talk to my mom about the location of the gate?"
"If anyone knows, it would be her."
"If she remembers," she said softly, casting a nervous look in Ren's direction. "You know how her head is. Some days . ."
"I know. So does Ren. We're prepared for her not to know, but even if there's a slim chance, we'll take it."
Brighton nodded slowly. "She's having a good day."
"Okay." I looked at Ren and was happy to see not a single look of judgment on his face. Since each of us was raised to value mental and physical strength above everything, so many of the Order members looked down on Merle. "We won't take long."
She hesitated for a moment and then turned. "She's in the garden."
Leaving our helmets on the wicker chair, we followed Brighton around the porch. As we neared the back of the house, the soft thrums of jazz drifted out the back door. We stepped off the porch, following the walkway into the thick of the courtyard.
Merle was kneeling in front of a rosebush, her green gloves covered with dirt as she patted the fresh soil around a newly planted flower. A pitcher of tea sat on a small table, two glasses half full.
Brighton cleared her throat. "Mama—"
"I know we have company, sweetheart. I may have a few bats in the belfry, but I'm not deaf," Merle said, her voice level and sugary sweet. "And y'all weren't exactly quiet making your way into the courtyard."
Ren lifted a brow at me, and I grinned. "Hi, Merle," I announced.
"Hello, dear." Tugging off her gloves, she dropped them on the ground and then stood, turning toward us. Merle was in her mid-fifties, but she could pass for someone a good decade younger. With hair the color of wheat and nearly flawless alabaster skin, I had no idea how she stayed so pale and wrinkle-free when she spent most of her time out in her garden. Only the skin by her eyes and mouth crinkled when she smiled. "It's been a while since I've seen you, and you brought someone other than that hussy with you."
I bit the inside of my cheek as Ren's eyebrow climbed even higher. "She's talking about Val—"
"The hussy," Merle said again, floating over to the chair near the small table. She plopped down with little grace, hooking her knee over one leg.
"Mama." Brighton sighed, moving to stand behind her mother's chair.
"I wish you wouldn't call her that," I said. "Valerie's really nice. Just because she dates a lot doesn't make her a hussy."
Merle tilted her head to the side as she picked up her glass. "Honey, that's not what makes her a hussy."
I wanted to know what did, but the last thin
g we needed was to get off track, so I decided it was time to change the subject. "Merle, this is Ren—"
"I know who he is," she said, much to my surprise and Ren's. She took a sip of her tea as she eyed him over the rim of the glass. "Renald Owens."
"Renald?" Looking at him, I raised both brows. "Your full name is Renald?"
Was that two splotches of pink I saw blossoming across his cheeks? Ha! He was blushing. "Why do you think I go by Ren?" he replied drily. "Ma'am—"
"Call me Merle, sweetheart. And you're going to ask how I know who you are. I know—well, knew of your parents. I hope they are still well?"
"Yeah, they are." Ren shook his head, thrown off.
Merle continued to appraise him. "That's a fine looking young man, Ivy."
My eyes widened, and I didn't even dare look at Ren.
She winked at me, and Brighton patted her on the shoulder. "Mama, they're here to ask you about something important."
"Oh, I know they are. Why don't you two take a seat?" She gestured at the chairs across from her. "Cop a squat or so they say."
Ren passed a long, bemused look in my direction as we did as she ordered. Once seated, I tried again. "We're here—"
"Like I said, darling, I know why you're here. It has to do with the Elite." She giggled like a young girl. "Don't look so surprised, handsome fellow. I said I knew your parents. And I know all about the Elite, and if you're here, that means the ancients are up to no good."
Floored, all I could do was stare at her. Holy crap, this whole time Merle really did have this knowledge. Excitement bubbled up, but chasing after it was a great sense of distrust. This was too easy.
"You know about the ancients?" Ren leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees while Brighton shifted uneasily behind her mother.
"I know that not all fae wish for the same." She studied him for a moment while I thought that was an extremely bizarre statement. "Son, I also know why you're really here. I know what it means if you're here."
I tensed, suddenly cold despite the warm breeze tousling the many flowers. Ren sat back, his expression slipping from his face, replaced by a blank look that turned my stomach to ice.
"Ma'am," he began, but she wasn't having it.
"I know what the Elite does. I know that your kind hunts the ancients, but that's not the only duty you have." She shook her glass and the ice clinked loudly. Her smile started to slip as her gaze drifted to me. "What do you want to know, doll?"
Well, hell, now I wanted to know what Ren's other duty was, which was apparently something I didn't know, but Brighton spoke as she knelt beside her mother's chair, drawing her attention. "I think they want to know where the gate is here."
"Of course." Her scrutiny moved to her glass. "I used to be a guardian."
I swallowed my gasp. I'd always known that Merle had been high up in the sect, but I had no idea she was a guardian. Good Lord, if what she said was true, then she really did know the location of the gate, and right now, that piece of knowledge was the most important. I'd deal with Ren later.
"I know about everything," she continued, her gaze fixing on something I couldn't see. "The wards used to seal the gates, the blood required to open them, the crystal that can heal." Her smile was fleeting and quick though I had no idea what the hell she meant about the crystal. "Then I met my match. Or so they say. I really do not recall that day."
"Mama," Brighton whispered, reaching out and clasping her mother's hand. "Do you know where the gate is?"
"My darling girl," she murmured, cupping Brighton's chin as she smiled blithely. "There isn't just one gateway in our city. There are two."
I inhaled sharply. "There are two?"
She nodded as she reached for the pitcher and poured herself another glass of tea. "Yes. Should you be surprised? We're in New Orleans, and well . . . the land here, it's tainted and it's blessed. It is the only place I know where two doorways to the Otherworld exist."
"Are you sure?" Ren asked. "I mean no offense by that question, but I have never heard of two doors being in one city or even within a hundred or so miles of another."
"No offense taken." A wisp of blond hair blew across her face. "One is located in the sanctuary, and the other is in a place where the atmosphere is so unsettled not even the humans or the spirits can rest."
Brighton winced and ducked her chin.
My heart sank. "Merle, I'm not following."
She arched a brow at me. "It's pretty simple, girl. Both are well known, and I don't know how to be much clearer."
I had several ideas how she could be clearer, but as Merle flicked her attention to Ren, I knew her mind had moved on. So many times in the past, she would make a vague statement that made perfect sense to her, and she would not, under any circumstance, explain herself further. It also meant her 'good day' was rapidly coming to a close. Frustrated, I forced myself to sit still in the chair. "Merle—"
"Shush it," she said, and I jerked back, gaping at her while she continued to eyeball Ren. "Back to the more important thing. Have you found it yet?"
Ren's shoulders stiffened, and the tension rolled off of him, settling over the courtyard like a coarse, too heavy blanket. He gave a barely discernible shake of his head.
"You need to find it," Merle said, the harmony dropping from her tone. "You know what will happen if they open the gate."
He lifted his chin. "I know."
What in the hell was going on here?
A tremble shook Merle. "If the prince comes through—or the princess—and they find it, everything is undone, Renald. Everything."
I looked at Brighton in confusion, but she shook her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"
Merle stood, her hand clenching the glass in her hand until her knuckles turned white. "Renald, I fear those gates will break this time. It's in the wind. It's in the very song of the birds and in the soil. They will not fail with the gates this time."
Okay, this was getting weird. Typical, but weird, because that was what the ancient had said last night, and when I looked at Ren, he didn't . . . he didn't look too surprised, and the ice in my belly spread to my veins.
Merle stepped toward Ren. "You must find the halfling."
Chapter Fifteen
A halfling? What in the world? All thoughts of everything else vanished. My gaze bounced back and forth between Ren and Merle, and any other time I would've dismissed this as Merle having a bad moment, but Ren . . . yeah, he still didn't look shocked by anything this woman was saying, and I was sure I was rocking one hell of a what-the-fuck expression at the moment.
"Halfling?" Brighton spoke, shaking her head. "Mama, what are you talking about?"
She finally tore her gaze from Ren and stared at her glass again. "It should not exist, but it does. Not for very long. It cannot be. Or at least that's what they say," she mumbled, the hand holding the glass beginning to shake. "There used to be more. Hundreds, if not thousands, but now? Maybe a handful. Maybe not even half a dozen. Because they are a threat to it all. To everything," she spat bitterly.
Ren stood up and shot forward, but it was too late. The glass in Merle's hand shattered. Tea and sharp shards exploded, raining to the ground. Blood mixed in, and I jumped out of my seat, eyes wide.
"Mama!" Brighton gripped her arm, her face paling. "What did you do? You cut yourself!"
Merle frowned as she stared at her bloody hand. Pieces of glass glinted in the sunlight, stuck in her palm. "I'm not sure, darling girl, but it does not feel that pleasant."
"I'm sorry, but I think you two need to go." Brighton wrapped her other arm around her mother's shoulders. "It's been enough for today."
I didn't stop her. Too disturbed by what Merle had done, I watched Brighton usher her toward the back of the house.
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