The weekend would be a totally different story. When there were more mortals to mess with and it was easier for them to do what they wanted and get away, they came out in droves.
Kind of like cockroaches scurrying around at night.
The fae blended in with the thick shadows of the narrow alley, and I was quiet as I followed him, keeping close to the damp brick walls. Sliding my hands off the straps of my backpack, I groaned when the fae stopped halfway down the alley and faced the building.
His hands dropped to his zipper.
Was he seriously going to pee? Really? Ugh, that was so not on my list of things I wanted to hear or see tonight. And could I really kill something while it was peeing? Seemed kind of unsportsmanlike to kick a dude with his pants down.
I was so not going to wait for him to do his business. At the rate in which he was moving, I'd be here for about ten minutes before he got his zipper down.
Keeping my gaze trained on the fae, I reached down and slipped my hand around the non-business side of the iron stake secured inside my boot. Iron had always been epically destructive to the fae. They didn't go anywhere near it. Just the touch of it singed them, and if you stabbed one in the center of the chest, it didn't kill them but sent them right back to their world.
However, separating their heads from their bodies ended them. For realsies.
But sending them to the Otherworld was enough, thank God, because obviously chopping heads off was messy and gross. Gates, hidden all over, were the doorways between our worlds. They'd been closed for centuries, but were still well guarded. Sending them back was a one-way ticket.
I stepped away from the building, stake in hand as I moved swiftly down the alley. At my back was the hum of the busy street, muted conversations, and the distant drone of laughter.
My fingers tightened on the stake as the fae shifted his legs, spreading his thighs. I didn't make a sound as I walked right up to him, but some kind of inherent instinct alerted him to my presence. Fae couldn't sense us, but they knew the Order were around.
The fae twisted at the waist; his milky blue eyes met mine but were unfocused. Confusion splashed across his striking features.
"Hi!" I chirped, cocking my arm back.
His gaze flickered to my hand and he sighed. "Fuck."
Even intoxicated and about to pee, the fae was freaking fast. Whirling around, he deflected my blow with one arm and lifted his knee. Spinning to the side, I narrowly avoided a kick to the stomach.
I didn't glance down to see just how far he got with the zipper as I sprung forward and dipped under the arm he swung at me. Popping up behind him, I planted my foot in the center of his back.
The fae grunted as he staggered a step then turned to me as I rushed forward, ready for this to be over. Swinging my hand with the stake, the sharpened edge wasn't even an inch from his chest when he spat, "Your whole world is about to end. He's—"
I shoved the iron stake into his chest, cutting off his words. The stake cut through his skin like he was made of the cheapest tissue. For a second, he stayed completely intact, and he opened his mouth, letting out a high-pitched howl that sounded like a coyote getting run over by a Mack truck.
Holy shark teeth!
Four incisors were razor sharp and elongated. They reached his lower lip and reminded me of a mutant saber-toothed tiger. Fae could bite. It wasn't pretty. Actually, all creatures from the Otherworld had a tendency to get nippy.
Snapping back, I lowered the stake as the fae was sort of sucked into itself. From the top of his shaggy head to his sneakers, he folded like a ball of paper being crumpled, going from over six feet to the size of my hand before there was a crack of sound, like one of those bang snap fireworks, and a flash of intense light.
Then there was nothing.
"As last words go, that was kind of cliché and lame," I said to the spot where the fae had stood. "I've heard better."
"I'm sure you have."
Heart slamming against my chest, I whirled around. Visions of spending the night in the city jail danced in my head. Despite the fact that I'd probably already been caught red-handed, I shoved the stake behind my back.
Thankfully, it wasn't one of the city's finest standing at the mouth of the alley, but a man wearing black pants and a white shirt. As he lazily walked forward like he was out for a midnight stroll, I felt no measure of relief.
The dude obviously saw me stab the fae. This could only mean one of two things. The man belonged to the Order, but wasn't a part of the New Orleans branch, because I didn't recognize him. Or he was a servant to the fae, a human entranced to them. They could be just as dangerous.
And when you stabbed them, they didn't pull the poof, be-gone act. They bled. They died just like everyone else did. Sometimes slowly. The Order didn't have a no-kill human policy because it was a necessary evil at times, but it had to suck something fierce to kill one.