The Ivy before the whole halfling business would’ve done the right thing, and I was still her.

As I crossed the street, I thought about texting Ren, but I didn’t. Not yet. There was something I needed to take care of first, the reason why I was out in the first place, and that had nothing to do with getting beignets.

I headed northeast on Decatur then turned left on St. Phillips, making my way toward the headquarters of the New Orleans branch of the Order. The twenty minute walk helped slow down my heart rate, but it did nothing to ease the anxiety building within me.

When Mama Lousy’s gift shop came into view, I noticed right off the bat that things had changed. The shop was closed, and since it was Sunday, that was unheard of. The gift shop was really just a front for the Order, selling fake voodoo stuff and yummy pralines. Jerome, a grouchy retired Order member, usually ran the place. I hoped nothing had happened to him. He could be a real dick, but he was kind of a lovable dick.

Dylan was standing outside, leaning against the deep burgundy wall next to the door that led upstairs. To the average passerby, he looked like some strange dude loitering, which meant he blended right in with his dark denim jeans and gray Henley shoved up to his elbows. He was wearing sunglasses and his built arms were crossed over his chest.

My steps slowed as he turned his head in my direction and said, “Oh look, she is alive.”

I arched an eyebrow as I stopped in front of him. Order members weren’t exactly a warm and friendly bunch. Probably had a lot to do with our high turnover rate. Most of us died before you could even get to know someone. Val had been different, though. From the first moment I’d met her, she’d welcomed me while everyone else was standoffish. Another reason why her betrayal cut so deep.

Ren had been different, too.

He was friendly and warm, but he also had wanted to get in my pants from the moment he saw me, and that was straight from the horse’s mouth, so . . .

“Why is the gift shop closed?” I asked.

“Jerome came down with a cold and David didn’t see the point of bringing anyone down for this,” Dylan explained. That made sense. There weren’t a lot of retired Order members around these parts who would want to come in and deal with the public.

“Glad to hear he’s otherwise okay.” I glanced into the dim shop. A few fake skulls sat on a stack of praline boxes.

“You were worried about that old coot?” Dylan laughed. “He’s going to outlive a nuclear war.”

My lips twitched. “Probably. So, what are you doing out here?”

“Fae know our location now since that bitch led the prince here.” Dylan propped a booted foot against the wall. “The door has to be guarded.”

I wanted to point out that one Order member probably wouldn’t be able to stop an ancient, but figured that wouldn’t win me any friends. “Makes sense,” I murmured, reaching for the door.

“Hey.” Dylan stopped me halfway in. “Glad you’re doing okay.”

Surprised, I looked over my shoulder at him. All I saw was my reflection in his sunglasses.

“And sorry about that shit with Val,” he continued. “I know you were close to her. That isn’t easy to deal with.”

My fingers tightened on the handle. “No, it’s not,” I admitted, angling my body toward him. “Did you suspect something?”

“Not until David had me watching her, but I didn’t see shit that would’ve made me suspect anything.”

And David had put Dylan on Val-duty because Ren told him that he suspected she was the halfling.

“Strange thing is, Ivy, I saw her kill fae.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Like, how fucked up is that? She was working for them and still killing them?”

“She had to keep up appearances, I guess.” Saddened by that fact, I turned back to the stairwell. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep,” he said.

I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head and started climbing the steps—steps that I had almost bled out on when an ancient had shot me with a gun he’d manifested out of thin air. An ancient that David had refused to believe was around.

The stairwell always smelled like sugar and feet, a gross combination. I hesitated on the second-floor landing. Irrational dread formed like a lead ball in my gut. The last time I’d stepped through this doorway, I’d found Doc Harris dead on the floor, his gaze blank and fixed on the ceiling.

Taking a deep breath, I hit the buzzer and looked up at the small camera. I had no idea who was monitoring the door. If there wasn’t anyone, I had a key and could—

The door opened suddenly. Ren stood there. I so was not expecting to see him already. “Uh . . .”

He leaned against the doorframe. “I thought you were going to think about what I said, Ivy?”

My lips pursed.

“I can see that you didn’t.”

“I did,” I insisted.

“And I also thought you weren’t coming out to do anything work related, and yet you’re here.”

Um . . .”Are you going to let me in?”

Ren sighed as he stepped aside. I shot him a look as I walked in. The first place my gaze went to was the floor. The beige carpet had been pulled up. It made sense considering Harris’s blood had most likely bled straight through the to the boards below.

“Huh.” My throat felt oddly hoarse as I stared at the floor. “Who knew there was hardwood under there? Like, why would they have covered that up with crap carpet?”

Ren curled his hand around the nape of my neck. The touch was so different from how the prince had done it. He turned me toward him, and I opened my mouth to speak, but he lowered his face to mine and kissed me.