Torn
Page 50
I didn’t understand why this had happened. The fae didn’t need humans for anything other than food, but having their assistance in some areas had to be helpful. Why would they kill them, and why now? There were too many questions.
Before I left, I’d closed the waitress’ eyes, and on the way back to my place I’d called Ren. There was still no answer, but I didn’t leave a message for him this time.
Ren’s face blurred with the waitresses’ and back again, and instead of seeing her, I saw him, lying on his back, his beautiful green eyes dull and unfocused, all life gone from them. Once that image was fully implanted in my brain, I couldn’t get it out.
Hours passed, and I might’ve dozed off, but it felt like I blinked and then it was morning and Tink was sitting on the arm of the couch, a few inches from my face. And not tiny Tink. Oh no. This was full grown Tink . . . in pants.
A hell of a way to wake up.
I jerked into a sitting position and drew back, staring up at Tink dumbly. “You’re . . . people-sized.”
He cocked his head to the side. “There’s something about using the word ‘people-sized’ that just sounds offensive.”
My gaze dropped. “And you’re wearing jeans.”
“You like them?” He looked down at himself and nodded. “Got them off of Amazon. They were something called True Religion.”
“You . . . you bought True Religion jeans?”
Tink batted his blue eyes at me. “They were like two hundred dollars, so I figured they were good jeans.”
I stared at them and plopped down on the other end of the couch, planting my face into the pillow.
“I thought you’d be happy about the fact my junk isn’t hanging out,” he said.
I closed my eyes.
“And here I thought I was doing a good thing.” Tink paused. “I guess I could go naked—”
“No.”
There was a moment of silence. “I think I have a rather attractive form when I am small and tall. I also think that most women and a lot of men would be more than happy to see me naked.”
I closed my eyes.
“You should be happy,” he continued.
I grimaced.
“Because I’m quite attractive,” Tink added. “Just in case—”
“I get it, Tink.”
“Goody gum drops.” Another pause. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”
I didn’t answer.
Tink nudged my leg with his hand, which felt weird because he was people-sized. “Are you and Ren still fighting? If so, there’s a chance you might want to see my junk.”
I pried one eye open. “I don’t want to see your junk again, Tink.”
“Huh,” he said.
Several seconds passed and then I said in a scratchy voice, “A whole bunch of people were killed last night. They were fed on until they died, and some of their bodies were hung from the ceiling.”
“Whoa,” Tink said. “That’s a buzzkill.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, sucking in a deep breath. “And Ren is missing.”
“What?” Tink shrieked, startling me. I sat up and he jumped—all six and a half feet of him—onto the coffee table. He crouched there, on the edge in a feat of anti-gravity. “What do you mean he’s missing?”
I broke it down for Tink, skipping the whole “telling Ren what I was” part and ending with, “I don’t know what to do.”
Tink hopped down and sat on the coffee table. “I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, who knows? Maybe he’s off licking his man wounds? Or maybe the prince has captured him. Both make sense. Ren’s his competition.”
My heart flopped over in my chest as I rose, unable to sit or be in the apartment any longer. My muscles ached from sleeping in a cramped position. “That’s not helping,” I said.
“Sorry?” He stood. “I’m really not good at saying sorry and sounding like I mean it, but I do mean it.”
I walked around the couch and stopped by the bedroom door. “I get it.”
Tink followed behind me. “Would now be a bad time to talk about getting that kitten you—”
Shutting the door behind me, I walked into the bathroom. I showered and changed in record time, gathering up my wet hair and securing it in a knot. I grabbed my weapons and walked back out.
Tink popped up from the couch. “You’re leaving already? It’s like nine in the morning.”
“I know.” I walked to my purse. “I just can’t sit in the house. I need to be out there.”
“Doing what?”
That was a good question and something I’d thought about while I showered. We had some intel at headquarters on possible locations of fae cells—homes where we had evidence fae lived. Places we kept an eye on, but hadn’t raided because we weren’t a hundred percent positive fae actually lived there. I was this close to knocking on their doors.
“You’re going to do something dumb, aren’t you?”
“No.” I picked up my bag and draped it over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go out.”
Tink leaned over the back of the couch. “I can go with you.”
I raised an eyebrow as I picked up my keys.
“Not like this. I haven’t gotten around to buying a shirt yet, but I can make myself small and you can put me in your purse,” he offered.
“I am not putting you in my purse.”
Before I left, I’d closed the waitress’ eyes, and on the way back to my place I’d called Ren. There was still no answer, but I didn’t leave a message for him this time.
Ren’s face blurred with the waitresses’ and back again, and instead of seeing her, I saw him, lying on his back, his beautiful green eyes dull and unfocused, all life gone from them. Once that image was fully implanted in my brain, I couldn’t get it out.
Hours passed, and I might’ve dozed off, but it felt like I blinked and then it was morning and Tink was sitting on the arm of the couch, a few inches from my face. And not tiny Tink. Oh no. This was full grown Tink . . . in pants.
A hell of a way to wake up.
I jerked into a sitting position and drew back, staring up at Tink dumbly. “You’re . . . people-sized.”
He cocked his head to the side. “There’s something about using the word ‘people-sized’ that just sounds offensive.”
My gaze dropped. “And you’re wearing jeans.”
“You like them?” He looked down at himself and nodded. “Got them off of Amazon. They were something called True Religion.”
“You . . . you bought True Religion jeans?”
Tink batted his blue eyes at me. “They were like two hundred dollars, so I figured they were good jeans.”
I stared at them and plopped down on the other end of the couch, planting my face into the pillow.
“I thought you’d be happy about the fact my junk isn’t hanging out,” he said.
I closed my eyes.
“And here I thought I was doing a good thing.” Tink paused. “I guess I could go naked—”
“No.”
There was a moment of silence. “I think I have a rather attractive form when I am small and tall. I also think that most women and a lot of men would be more than happy to see me naked.”
I closed my eyes.
“You should be happy,” he continued.
I grimaced.
“Because I’m quite attractive,” Tink added. “Just in case—”
“I get it, Tink.”
“Goody gum drops.” Another pause. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”
I didn’t answer.
Tink nudged my leg with his hand, which felt weird because he was people-sized. “Are you and Ren still fighting? If so, there’s a chance you might want to see my junk.”
I pried one eye open. “I don’t want to see your junk again, Tink.”
“Huh,” he said.
Several seconds passed and then I said in a scratchy voice, “A whole bunch of people were killed last night. They were fed on until they died, and some of their bodies were hung from the ceiling.”
“Whoa,” Tink said. “That’s a buzzkill.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, sucking in a deep breath. “And Ren is missing.”
“What?” Tink shrieked, startling me. I sat up and he jumped—all six and a half feet of him—onto the coffee table. He crouched there, on the edge in a feat of anti-gravity. “What do you mean he’s missing?”
I broke it down for Tink, skipping the whole “telling Ren what I was” part and ending with, “I don’t know what to do.”
Tink hopped down and sat on the coffee table. “I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, who knows? Maybe he’s off licking his man wounds? Or maybe the prince has captured him. Both make sense. Ren’s his competition.”
My heart flopped over in my chest as I rose, unable to sit or be in the apartment any longer. My muscles ached from sleeping in a cramped position. “That’s not helping,” I said.
“Sorry?” He stood. “I’m really not good at saying sorry and sounding like I mean it, but I do mean it.”
I walked around the couch and stopped by the bedroom door. “I get it.”
Tink followed behind me. “Would now be a bad time to talk about getting that kitten you—”
Shutting the door behind me, I walked into the bathroom. I showered and changed in record time, gathering up my wet hair and securing it in a knot. I grabbed my weapons and walked back out.
Tink popped up from the couch. “You’re leaving already? It’s like nine in the morning.”
“I know.” I walked to my purse. “I just can’t sit in the house. I need to be out there.”
“Doing what?”
That was a good question and something I’d thought about while I showered. We had some intel at headquarters on possible locations of fae cells—homes where we had evidence fae lived. Places we kept an eye on, but hadn’t raided because we weren’t a hundred percent positive fae actually lived there. I was this close to knocking on their doors.
“You’re going to do something dumb, aren’t you?”
“No.” I picked up my bag and draped it over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go out.”
Tink leaned over the back of the couch. “I can go with you.”
I raised an eyebrow as I picked up my keys.
“Not like this. I haven’t gotten around to buying a shirt yet, but I can make myself small and you can put me in your purse,” he offered.
“I am not putting you in my purse.”
