Torn
Page 22
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“But not impossible,” Brighton said, dropping into the seat across from me. “You know nothing is really impossible.”
She was right about that, but this . . . this was beyond something any of us had ever imagined. If what was in this journal was true, then my world had just been blown to bits all over again.
Because what I was reading stated that there were fae who lived in our world—fae that did not feed on humans.
Fae that had worked alongside the Order in the past.
Chapter Eight
I sat back in the chair. I was currently knee-deep in a stunned daze as I flipped back a couple of pages to where the names of past Sect leaders were listed. It stopped about two decades ago, on Lafayette Burgos. The other names listed beside the Sect leaders I assumed were fae, based on the bizarre nature of some of the names.
“There are good fae,” Brighton said, and my gaze shot to her pale face. “I’m almost too frightened to even suggest that. As if an Order member will appear out of nowhere and accuse me of treason against my own kind.” She laughed again as she glanced up at the ceiling. “But if you keep reading, that’s what you’ll see. Fae who came into our world, but decided not to feed off humans. They lived normal lifespans, much like our own. They worked alongside Order members in the past.”
My thoughts were wheeling as I started flipping through the journal. Entries were meticulously dated, detailing investigations, searches, and even kills. Many of the entries included the names of Order members and the fae they worked alongside.
Brighton reached across the table and picked up a deep blue journal, a much thinner one than the journal I’d been looking at. “My mother took detailed accounts of everything. I’m not even exaggerating. I had no idea she had all of this hidden away. This book lists all the members of the Order, up until when she . . . when she left.” She placed it on the table. “I got curious and checked on some of the names associated with the fae. Some of them are still alive but have moved out of the city. But there is one still around. Jerome.”
“Holy . . .” I couldn’t even begin to picture Jerome working with a fae. It went against everything I knew about him. “If this is true, why has this been hidden—erased from history?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t this be something known?”
“I don’t know.” She gestured at a dozen or so journals and a stack of loose sheets of paper scattered across the table. “There’s a good chance that there’s some sort of explanation in there, but as of right now, I have no idea.”
I sat forward, resting my elbows on the table as I dragged both hands through my hair, holding the curls back from my face. I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say.
A sympathetic look pinched Brighton’s features. “I know you’re already dealing with a lot, but I didn’t know who else to go to. You’ve always been so patient and understanding with my mom. She trusts you. I trust you.”
I nodded and drew in a deep breath. Neither of them would trust me if they knew the truth, but that was neither here nor there. I scanned the table as I collected my thoughts. Okay. First things first. “Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone?”
“Before she left, she told me it wasn’t safe any longer and that she was going to them. I didn’t know what she meant at first,” Brighton explained. “But I think she was going to them—to these fae who don’t feed on humans.”
Other than how absolutely crazy that sounded, I wondered why Merle would leave Brighton behind if she felt things were no longer safe. That didn’t sound like Merle at all. No matter what kind of mental state she was in, her daughter was always a priority. There was more to this than we knew.
A hell of a lot more, I thought as I stared at all the journals. “So do we have any idea of where these . . . good fae could be living?”
“Maybe.” Brighton reached over, choosing a longer and wider journal. “This one has maps of the city, places marked where hunts have been carried out and locations of kills. I’m hoping there’s something in there. It’s just going to take a little bit to search through it. Not like I can skip a page.”
“Are there anymore like that?”
“Not that I’ve found.” She placed the journal in front of her, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. “There was something else she said before she left.”
At this point, I had no idea what to expect. “What?”
Her cornflower-blue eyes met mine. “Before she left, she told me to contact that young man Ivy brought with her. Ren? She said Ren would know what to do.”
~
Ren would know what to do.
Back at my apartment, I sat cross-legged on my bed and stared at the journal Brighton had allowed me to take. I’d spent the last couple of hours reading through it, and if any of this was fake, it was an extremely well put together hoax, spanning decades.
“It’s not a hoax,” I whispered, reaching up and tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I was convinced that this crap was true or that Merle believed it to be true, and she had believed that for years, well before she was captured by the fae.
Closing the journal, I glanced at the clock as I rubbed the back of my neck. It was a little before one in the morning. Ren would be here soon. I’d texted him when I got back to my place, but I hadn’t mentioned anything about Brighton or Merle. I figured that would be a conversation to have in person.
Ren would know what to do.
She was right about that, but this . . . this was beyond something any of us had ever imagined. If what was in this journal was true, then my world had just been blown to bits all over again.
Because what I was reading stated that there were fae who lived in our world—fae that did not feed on humans.
Fae that had worked alongside the Order in the past.
Chapter Eight
I sat back in the chair. I was currently knee-deep in a stunned daze as I flipped back a couple of pages to where the names of past Sect leaders were listed. It stopped about two decades ago, on Lafayette Burgos. The other names listed beside the Sect leaders I assumed were fae, based on the bizarre nature of some of the names.
“There are good fae,” Brighton said, and my gaze shot to her pale face. “I’m almost too frightened to even suggest that. As if an Order member will appear out of nowhere and accuse me of treason against my own kind.” She laughed again as she glanced up at the ceiling. “But if you keep reading, that’s what you’ll see. Fae who came into our world, but decided not to feed off humans. They lived normal lifespans, much like our own. They worked alongside Order members in the past.”
My thoughts were wheeling as I started flipping through the journal. Entries were meticulously dated, detailing investigations, searches, and even kills. Many of the entries included the names of Order members and the fae they worked alongside.
Brighton reached across the table and picked up a deep blue journal, a much thinner one than the journal I’d been looking at. “My mother took detailed accounts of everything. I’m not even exaggerating. I had no idea she had all of this hidden away. This book lists all the members of the Order, up until when she . . . when she left.” She placed it on the table. “I got curious and checked on some of the names associated with the fae. Some of them are still alive but have moved out of the city. But there is one still around. Jerome.”
“Holy . . .” I couldn’t even begin to picture Jerome working with a fae. It went against everything I knew about him. “If this is true, why has this been hidden—erased from history?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t this be something known?”
“I don’t know.” She gestured at a dozen or so journals and a stack of loose sheets of paper scattered across the table. “There’s a good chance that there’s some sort of explanation in there, but as of right now, I have no idea.”
I sat forward, resting my elbows on the table as I dragged both hands through my hair, holding the curls back from my face. I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say.
A sympathetic look pinched Brighton’s features. “I know you’re already dealing with a lot, but I didn’t know who else to go to. You’ve always been so patient and understanding with my mom. She trusts you. I trust you.”
I nodded and drew in a deep breath. Neither of them would trust me if they knew the truth, but that was neither here nor there. I scanned the table as I collected my thoughts. Okay. First things first. “Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone?”
“Before she left, she told me it wasn’t safe any longer and that she was going to them. I didn’t know what she meant at first,” Brighton explained. “But I think she was going to them—to these fae who don’t feed on humans.”
Other than how absolutely crazy that sounded, I wondered why Merle would leave Brighton behind if she felt things were no longer safe. That didn’t sound like Merle at all. No matter what kind of mental state she was in, her daughter was always a priority. There was more to this than we knew.
A hell of a lot more, I thought as I stared at all the journals. “So do we have any idea of where these . . . good fae could be living?”
“Maybe.” Brighton reached over, choosing a longer and wider journal. “This one has maps of the city, places marked where hunts have been carried out and locations of kills. I’m hoping there’s something in there. It’s just going to take a little bit to search through it. Not like I can skip a page.”
“Are there anymore like that?”
“Not that I’ve found.” She placed the journal in front of her, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. “There was something else she said before she left.”
At this point, I had no idea what to expect. “What?”
Her cornflower-blue eyes met mine. “Before she left, she told me to contact that young man Ivy brought with her. Ren? She said Ren would know what to do.”
~
Ren would know what to do.
Back at my apartment, I sat cross-legged on my bed and stared at the journal Brighton had allowed me to take. I’d spent the last couple of hours reading through it, and if any of this was fake, it was an extremely well put together hoax, spanning decades.
“It’s not a hoax,” I whispered, reaching up and tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I was convinced that this crap was true or that Merle believed it to be true, and she had believed that for years, well before she was captured by the fae.
Closing the journal, I glanced at the clock as I rubbed the back of my neck. It was a little before one in the morning. Ren would be here soon. I’d texted him when I got back to my place, but I hadn’t mentioned anything about Brighton or Merle. I figured that would be a conversation to have in person.
Ren would know what to do.
