Page 94 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

“Why do I feel like there is more you could tell me?” Niall asked.

“Because you’re not as dim as I once believed.” Chela watched as Gabriel’s steed stomped over to him.

A rush of sheer exhilaration rolled over Niall as the beast nickered through those pit-viper fangs and tossed its head.

“I’m coming,” he murmured. With a leap he was astride, and the steed was already tensed for motion.

“New Orleans,” Chela said as soon as he was mostly, but not quite, seated.

And the world blurred in a way that was both dizzying and beautiful.

Leslie said nothing as Irial opened a door to a house that seemed more haunted than anywhere she’d been. If a building could be melancholy, it would be this one. The building was in immaculate condition, the marble floors inside the door gleamed as if they’d been polished that morning. The tall wooden balusters lining the upper floor had the patina of hands gliding over them often. The Turkish rugs seemed as bright as if they were new.

But as she followed Irial into the house, she saw that every room was filled with sheet draped furniture. No one lived here. Irial pulled a few sheets away, revealing books that were still open to assorted pages on end tables. An empty tea cup sat next to a pair of hundred-year-old glasses.

And Irial looked into corners as if his memory and will alone could summon a body from the past.

Faeries were magical creatures, capable of any manner of impossible things, but not returning faces from the past or making ghost breathe again. The look of sheer pain on Irial’s face made Leslie wrap her arms around him. There were no words, but she could offer him comfort.

At first he said nothing, simply pulled her closer to his side like a child holding a stuffed toy. Then a few moments later, he said, “I loved her. I would’ve loved my child, too. Idoeven though I’ve never met her.”

Leslie couldn’t pretend to understand his pain, but she listened and she held him.

Then, they went to the dining room and uncovered a table that would seat a dozen guests. There, Irial spread out the letters and files he had, and they began to read.

When Niall arrived, the last thing he expected to see was what looked like a midnight study session. Containers of take-out, a bottle of wine, and the unmistakable scent of chicory coffee assailed him when he opened the door of the Garden District house he hadn’t entered since the late 1800s.

“The door was unlocked,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

Irial nodded. “I figured you’d be here sooner or later since she texted.”

Leslie was more enthusiastic. She crossed the few feet between them and pulled him into her usual welcoming hug and kiss. Exhaustion fled in that moment. He was home—because home was wherever these two baffling creatures were.

Mutely, Irial kicked out a chair and resumed reading.

At Niall’s querying look to Leslie, the calmest of the three, she sighed and quietly walked over and plunked her hand over the middle of the letter Irial was reading.

“Talk. To. Him.”

Irial stood and paced across the room, where several bottles of whiskey had been hidden under another sheet. “Whisky? Gin?”

Niall nodded. He didn’t simply grab Irial and kiss the answers out of him as he might if they were alone. Sometimes there was a wall that they kept around Leslie still—not that they lacked affection in front of her, but faeries who were well over a thousand years old could be more violent in their affection than he thought Leslie would understand.

“You’re stalling,” Leslie said.

Niall smothered a grin with a sudden need to cough.

“I have—had—a child,” Irial announced as he handed Niall a beautiful crystal highball glass that would’ve hit the floor if not for Irial’s reflexes. He handed the still-full glass back to Niall. “Thelma had a babe.”

“Thelma? The young . . . the potential Summer Queen you spirited away?” Niall emptied his glass and stalked past Irial to refill it.

“Thewhat?” Leslie asked. Her arms folded. “The people who were seeking her were faeries?”

Irial shrugged.

And Niall knew. He knew the secret that Irial hadn’t shared back then. “You made the curse.”

“True.”

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