Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

by Melissa Marr

  “Keenan probably told her to spy on us.” Maili’s voice stood out from the rest, and Rika knew that if Maili came near, she would force the confrontation she’d wanted earlier. She probably wouldn’t don a glamour to appear human, so Rika would be left looking like she was swatting at empty air—or she’d have to endure an attack without reacting. Neither option sounded appealing.

  Rika grabbed Jayce’s hands. “Can we go inside?”

  “Inside where?”

  Her gaze darted around. The only place nearby was a multilevel, tile-roofed, yellow-walled building where clusters of mortals were coming in and out. She pointed. “There.”

  “Umm.”

  “Please?” She stood and tugged so that he came to his feet beside her.

  The faeries were almost too near now. Although Jayce couldn’t see them, he’d obviously noticed Rika’s tense posture and expression. He turned away to call out to Del and Kayley. “Hey.”

  After a moment, his friends stopped kissing. Del, arms still around Kayley, answered, “What?”

  “Dead Ends?”

  Kayley shrugged and pulled farther away from Del. After they put their clothes to rights, Del and Kayley, each with an arm around the other, sauntered toward them. The couple was almost as bold as Summer Court faeries in their affection, and Rika couldn’t help but think that there were traits that were as much mortal as fey.

  Together Rika and the three mortals walked to the door of the club. Del and Kayley seemed like they were trying to be polite to her, but they weren’t going out of their way to talk to her. Perhaps if she were someone else, their attitude would upset her, but considering how difficult she’d found even talking this slight amount, she was relieved by their feigned indifference. Plus, she’d watched them often enough to know that they weren’t truly indifferent; until they determined if she was staying, they simply didn’t see the need to bother getting to know her. They were Jayce’s friends, and he didn’t often date. He did have a lot of random conversations with girls he didn’t ever spend a second night hanging out with. There was no reason for his friends to think they’d see a girl who showed up out of nowhere again the next day. And they might not. She’d be there, but that didn’t mean they’d see her—they hadn’t the past few months despite how often she’d been with them.

  In comfortable silence, they joined the small cluster of people outside Dead Ends. Like the rest of the town, the people here reflected an odd mix of styles. Some people were dressed in what Rika considered elaborate costumes, while others wore clothes as casual as Jayce’s were.

  His hand tightened on hers as they joined the chaos inside Dead Ends—and she was grateful for his steady grip. The overflowing mass of people and thundering music made Rika want to flee.

  Kayley and Del were being swept into a crowd of people, but Jayce didn’t join them. He wound through the bodies, holding tightly to her. When they found a bit of space to themselves, he leaned in closer so she could hear. “Are you okay?”

  “Crowds.” She tried to smile, but she knew it must’ve looked pained because Jayce frowned and tried to lead her back outside.

  “C’mon then,” he said. “We’ll leave.”

  But three of the faeries had followed them inside. Two were plainly visible to humans, looking as menacing as some of the humans were trying to appear. The third faery was Maili; she had stayed invisible to the swarm of mortals in the club.

  “Let’s go this way.” Rika tugged Jayce deeper into the crowd, pushing through the room as she looked for another exit. Her attention flitted everywhere, on windows too high up to access, exposed pipes overhead, shadowed corners. There were no exits she could see, no way to get Jayce to safety.

  She maneuvered him so he was in the thick of the crowd with her. It wasn’t a complete solution, but she thought it would help.

  Almost immediately, though, one of the faeries zipped toward them and clamped a hand down on Jayce’s shoulder. The faery tugged on Jayce, spinning him around and causing him to stumble. If not for the steel bracelet Jayce wore, he’d have been in a worse situation, but the bracelet brushed against the faery’s exposed skin. The burn of it caused him to release Jayce.

  Rika started to grab Jayce to pull him to safety.

  The second faery grabbed Rika’s hair. He was much bigger than her, so much so that his palm cupped the back of her skull like he was cradling a ball.

  She glared and yanked back, tilting her head so her chin was pointing upward and her head was at an angle. “You really don’t want to do this.”

  The faery tilted his head downward and tugged her so he was mouth-to-forehead with her. “Yeah. I do.”

  She darted a glance at Jayce. He was staring at the faery that had grabbed him.

  “I’m still stronger than any of you out here,” Rika whispered to the faery in front of her. Then, she headbutted him.

  Surprised, he reached up to touch his face. Until now, Rika had avoided fighting with faeries. When they would act out, she always extricated herself. Tonight, though, she was tired of avoiding conflict. She kicked the faery, the heel of her foot slamming into his lower ribs, and he stumbled.

  The mortals who were nearby started to back away.

  Jayce glanced at her and, seeing that she was in a fight, looked worried. Almost in perfect synchronicity, they both took a swing at their attackers. The faery facing her winced at the impact, but the faery in front of Jayce laughed.

  “What’s your problem?” Jayce snarled at the faery, simultaneously trying to pull Rika behind him.

  She was touched by the gesture, but mortals weren’t strong enough to defeat faeries. She, however, was a faery fierce enough to defeat most anyone who stood against her. Such was the consequence of having been a Winter Girl. Choosing not to fight all of these years didn’t mean she was unable; it merely meant that she’d been making a different choice. Tonight, she’d revised her plan.

  The mortals around them watched the growing conflict. Rika stood beside Jayce, staring at the faeries who’d come here looking for trouble. “This is a bad idea,” she told them.

  The growing comprehension in their expressions said that they knew she was right, but they didn’t retreat. Neither did she—or Jayce, for that matter. He had no idea of how capable she was. She looked tiny next to him, but it was her that the faeries were watching. Rika had avoided the desert quarrels and dominance disputes, so the faeries she faced weren’t used to her fighting. They had no sense of her technique to rely on to help them. Even more, they were obviously shocked by her uncharacteristic behavior; they watched her warily, neither advancing nor retreating.

  “Let’s go.” Rika started to back away, not looking away from them.

  “Or not,” Maili said as she joined them—finally visible to humans now. She held a knife that looked like a carved horn, sharp and primitive.

  Rika didn’t hesitate: she punched Maili, knocking her back hard enough that she landed on her backside on the club floor.

  Maili’s face twisted in an angry snarl.

  Rika pointed at the knife. “That doesn’t make you equal to fighting me.”

  For a moment, Jayce stood stunned beside her; then he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him deeper into the sea of bodies.

  “What was that?” Jayce glanced over his shoulder at her as they moved away from the faeries.

  Rika pretended not to hear him. There was no answer Rika could give without using lies or misdirection. All that mattered was getting Jayce away from danger. Later, she’d find a solution, but right now she needed to get him away from Maili. The faeries weren’t going after the mortals in the club, but they were pursuing her.

  Then—standing so near she almost ran into him—Sionnach was in front of her like a savior in a crisis. If she were the hugging sort, she would wrap her arms around him. Instead she tugged Jayce the rest of the way toward the fox faery.

  “They’re not making sense, Shy,” she half yelled as she reached his side, and then promptly blushed
as she realized that she called him by his pet name—and that she’d rushed to his side. “I mean, Sionnach . . .”

  He grinned but didn’t call her on either of her slips.

  Beside her, Jayce grew suddenly still. He gave Sionnach a wary look, and then his gaze drifted from the fox faery to her. Rika hated that Jayce was involved in an altercation with faeries almost as much as she hated the suspicious looks he was giving her and Sionnach. She didn’t want him to think that she’d misled him—and on her relationship to Sionnach, at least, she hadn’t. What she was, what they’d fought, why he’d fallen earlier, those were all truths she couldn’t share, but on the subject of her interest in him she had been true.

  Jayce obviously had doubts, though. He released her hand.

  “I’m sure they make sense, but you two being here doesn’t. Come on.” Sionnach looped an arm around her waist. Other faeries, those who were here with him, cleared a path through the crowd and then vanished when they reached a doorway.

  Sionnach looked past her to catch Jayce’s eye. “This way.”

  The fox faery held open the door so Jayce and Rika could step into a short hallway. It was starkly empty, except for a mortal girl who smiled widely at Sionnach as they approached. She’d been leaning against the wall with a dreamy expression on her face, looking at Sionnach like he was a god. Sionnach flashed her a blindingly sweet expression, but he didn’t speak to her. Instead, he focused his attention on Rika, as if her slip into familiarity with him had changed something between them.

  “What do you need?”

  Rika stepped protectively close to Jayce. “I need to get him out of here.”

  Jayce started, “I can—”

  “So go.” Sionnach gestured to the door at the other end of the hall. “I’ll stay and sort out the rabble. Take him to your den.”

  Rika hesitated. It made sense, but she couldn’t begin to figure out how she’d explain that to Jayce. At the same time, she rebelled at the idea of abandoning Sionnach to face the faeries who’d started trouble. He wasn’t flawless by any stretch of the imagination, but he was the closest thing she had to a friend in the desert, the only faery she almost trusted. “If they hurt you . . .”

  Not surprisingly, Sionnach was amused at the idea. “You know better than that, princess. They’re my responsibility anyhow. So go on; take your boy for a run.”

  Jayce raised both brows at Sionnach, but this time, he remained silent. The sound of an old horn interrupted the silence, and Jayce pulled out his phone. “Del texted,” he said after a moment. “They split when things got weird in there. He doesn’t like violence.”

  “Good,” Rika said quietly, carefully not meeting Sionnach’s gaze even as the fox faery stared at her.

  “Take him home,” Sionnach urged her again.

  As he waited for her reply, his twinkling eyes and crooked grin were in such contrast to the chaos she could hear inside the club, as if he weren’t at all disturbed by the way Maili had behaved, as if he weren’t encouraging her to reveal secrets to a mortal. There were rules, actions faeries ought not engage in unless they wanted the courts coming round and starting to interfere.

  “They can’t do that.” Rika scowled in the direction of the main room, choosing to focus on the fight rather than the decision she needed to make. “They’re out of hand. Starting trouble around . . . people. We can’t ignore that.”

  “So I guess we need to figure out how to stop them. Leash them.” Sionnach stared at her, waiting for her as he had so many other times over the years she’d known him.

  Rika knew he was right, almost as much as she knew that getting involved with faery politics was exactly what she swore she wouldn’t do. Sionnach had brought up her ability to be Alpha or co-Alpha often enough that she had threatened him with bodily harm the last time he’d mentioned it. After years of staying quietly away from the machinations and struggles of the solitary desert fey, she was about to be involved. In truth, she was involved now. She’d stood and fought against them, thereby ending years of uninvolvement. It was because of her interest in Jayce that this was all happening, and it was because of him that she would remain involved. She’d been the catalyst, and she couldn’t expect Sionnach to handle it. He might help tonight, but tomorrow she had to begin to figure out what she should do. For now though, she told Sionnach, “Be safe. I owe you.”

  “I know.” The fox faery glanced at Jayce again and then gave Rika a long, unreadable look before turning and walking away.

  Silently, Rika and Jayce went to the door and stepped outside.

  So many broken rules. What’s one more?

  If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that there were times she’d wished she could tell Jayce that she existed, that she was near him, that she was a faery. She’d never expected it to happen, but here they were. She took a steadying breath and said, “We’re going to run. No matter what happens, just keep moving your feet. Run, okay?”

  Jayce gave her a look like she’d lost it. “Maybe I should just go.”

  For a moment, she considered letting him walk away. She could follow him invisibly; things could return to the way they were before she’d exposed herself to save him. That wasn’t what she wanted though, so she reached out and entwined her fingers with his.

  He didn’t react, and for a moment, she thought he’d pull away and leave.

  “Please?”

  “I need some answers, Rika.” He shook his head, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “That whole scene inside was weird.”

  “Come with me, and I’ll give you some answers.” She held his gaze and repeated, “Please?”

  After a moment, he nodded.

  She smiled and then she said again, “Really. Don’t forget to move your feet.”

  And then she started to run, holding on to Jayce’s hand; she didn’t go as fast as she had when she’d disappeared earlier, but she traveled fast enough that each of her steps was the distance of many of his. Her movement propelled them forward. His running merely kept his body upright.

  The world blurred around them for an impossibly brief time, and then they were at a cliff in the desert. In the far distance behind Jayce was the town; he hadn’t turned to see how far they’d traveled yet, staring instead at the cliff in front of them.

  The moon was three-quarters full, and the desert was shadowed and beautiful in the night. Several night-dwelling animals were out. A coyote slunk by in the periphery; farther out, a bobcat crouched on a ledge.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  “Where?” Jayce looked around now in confusion, finally noticing how far they’d run in a few brief moments. “How did we . . .” His words died as he stared at her.

  Ignoring that question, she pointed to a small inlet in the rock face over their heads. “Grab there. Come on. We need to get inside.”

  “I really have questions. . . .” Jayce started.

  “I know.” Rika scaled the cliff using the almost imperceptible steps. She was a few feet off the ground before she urged, “Come with me.”

  With a strange bemused smile, Jayce shook his head and then climbed past her. “You’re full of all sorts of surprises, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” Rika whispered.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jayce stood at the mouth of her cave—where Sionnach had stood earlier—looking not at her but at the expanse of desert they’d crossed. “That isn’t possible, you know. Moving that fast, that far.”

  Rika stepped in front of him, but instead of answering the question he wasn’t quite asking yet, she told him, “We’re safe here.”

  “Who were they? Why were—”

  “I can’t answer that,” she said softly.

  “She had a knife. That girl . . .” Jayce pulled his attention from the desert and glanced at Rika finally.

  “I know.” She kept her expression unreadable, hating that she already had to act so much like a faery instead of the girl she’d wished she could be with him, but she was
what she was. “She’d use it too. If you see her, just get away.”

  “You’re . . . what sort of fight school do you belong to? Someone as tiny as you—” He stopped mid-sentence and gave her an intense look. “You’re a little scary, Rika.”

  She turned her face away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . And we shouldn’t . . . I didn’t see any other way. You were in danger.”

  He put a hand on her cheek, tentatively. When she looked at him, he whispered, “I didn’t say scary was a bad thing.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t move any closer to him, even though there were very few things she could imagine wanting more than being closer to him. This is a mistake. She was frozen, unable to either close the distance or retreat.

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

  And then he lowered his hand and stepped back a little. “So show me around your home?”

  As they walked farther into the cave, Jayce didn’t ask about the oddity of living here. Instead, he took her hand in his. In his other hand, he held a lantern she’d given him. Silently, they wandered through the labyrinth of tunnels. He trusted her to lead him, and she marveled silently at the gift of his trust.

  Tentatively, she led him to an immense room. Pipe organ stalactites and cascading veils hung like precious art. Smaller passageways led from the room, and several more camping lanterns sat on the ground beside their feet. She lit one, bringing a bit more light to the immense cavern. Above them in the shadows, the faint shape of some of the colony of bats that nest in the caves stirred, but didn’t flee. They had become used to her over time.

  “I’ve never brought anyone in here. They’re my company.” She gestured at the bats and then laughed self-consciously, realizing that she sounded nervous and more than a little peculiar.

  Jayce didn’t laugh. Instead, he whispered, “They’re beautiful. The whole place is—” He stopped and looked intently at the far wall, at the mural she wanted to share with him. He lifted his lantern higher as he walked toward it. “Amazing.”

  Rika couldn’t move. She stayed frozen in the center of the cavern, feeling extra vulnerable and trapped despite the vast cavern. She’d seen his art so often, but she hadn’t shared her art with more than a handful of people in her life.