Desert Tales: A Wicked Lovely Companion Novel

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