My jaw dropped. "What?"
"Iron doesn't work," he repeated, then leaned back as the waitress delivered our food. Gravy steamed off my plate, and the scent was downright enticing, but my appetite had taken a big hit.
Ren grabbed the remaining packets of sugar and dumped them in his pile of lumpy looking grits. "There's no sending them back to the Otherworld. The only thing you can do is kill them, and there's one thing that will do that. A stake fashioned from a thorn tree that grows in the Otherworld is virtually a bullet to the brain."
"From a tree that grows . . . in the Otherworld?"
He nodded as he scooped up a mouthful of grits. "Yeah, so you can imagine getting that shit isn't easy. The weapons one can use against the ancients are limited, but the thorn stake works just like iron does. But as you know, ancients are far more dangerous and skilled."
I picked up a piece of bacon. "They can conjure things."
"Yes. As long as they have touched something, they can pretty much recreate it. They can also invade people's dreams, and they can move things around just like normal fae can. They're powerful, Ivy, and you're damn lucky that you got away from one of them with just a flesh wound."
I didn't need him to tell me I was lucky. Facing down an ancient, a fae, or even a human with a gun usually didn't end well, no matter how awesome you thought you were. "And you have one of these weapons?"
"Of course." He ate politely and cleanly, despite the fact I'd only eaten two slices of bacon and almost all of his grits were gone. "And before you ask, yes I've killed ancients before. Four of them, and no, it was not easy. I have the scars to prove that, and yes, if you ask nicely, I might be convinced to show them to you later." He glanced up through thick lashes. "You going to eat? Your food is getting cold."
I looked down at my biscuits and gravy and absently picked up a fork. "Why do you think the ancient is here?"
"It's always been here. That's the thing. There aren't many, but there are enough ancients that were in this realm when the doors were sealed. The right question is why was it engaging with you? Like I said, ancients are like . . . mob bosses. Fucking dangerous, but they don't get involved unless they have to. The fact this one was out on the street and hunted you down means something."
The savory gravy turned to sawdust in my mouth. "Hunted me down?"
"That's the only plausible explanation. No one in the Elite—no one, Ivy—has heard of an ancient seeking out a member of the Order. Hell, can you think of a time when a fae has hunted down an Order member?"
Yes, I could think of a time when a fae had hunted down members. It rarely happened, but it had. Three years ago.
"This is a big deal." Pushing his empty bowl aside, he attacked his plate of bacon. "The question is why?"
Only half of my biscuit was gone, but I was done. My thoughts spun with what Ren had told me. He could be lying—could be completely delusional, but I know what I saw. That wasn't a normal fae, and David had even confirmed that ancients had those abilities. Deep down, my instinct told me Ren wasn't lying. Just like it had told me that Tink was harmless.
And my instincts had told me not to meet Shaun that night, but I hadn't listened to them then.
Something occurred to me. "Maybe it wasn't just hunting me. Maybe it was hunting Order members in general. We've lost three of them since May. That's not entirely abnormal—the deaths, but these were good and skilled members."
"If they're hunting members, we need to know why."
"And this is why you were sent here? Because of an ancient being in New Orleans?" I asked after the waitress refilled our drinks.
Ren eyed me for a moment. "We've been tracking movement of the fae. At least a hundred have left the west and ended up here or in surrounding cities, but I bet you haven't seen an increase."
Thinking on it, I shook my head. "There's always a lot here, so it might be hard to recognize that there's an increase."
"These fae are laying low. They're up to something." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "And we know there's a gateway to the Otherworld in New Orleans."
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "How do you know that? Only a few know where the gates are and who guards them."
A blasé look crossed Ren's handsome face. "I'm a part of the Elite. We know what city the gates are in, but we don't know the exact location or who guards them."
Only the guards knew where the gates were, and maybe the sect leaders. It was a safety precaution once the Order discovered that the fae only knew the location of the gate they came through but not any of the others. Many decades ago, a member of the Order had been caught without protection and was tortured into giving away the location. The doors were sealed, but they could be reopened, and shit would get real bad real fast if that happened.