All of Frankie's clothes were boring with a capital B. Khaki, black and beige. She owned one pair of jeans. Deep rich indigo that fitted like a glove. The tags were still attached.
I had managed to get dressed, but my hair was still wet, and makeup wasn't an option. I sighed wistfully at the various cosmetics. If I had been in The City, I could have gotten one of those blowouts that Dirk's girlfriend Clodagh was always talking about.
I had to settle for looking like a ratty scab.
Frankie's memories told me that she placed pride in her appearance. She was neat, facetious, and pristine.
Somehow, while in possession of her body, her hair looked like I had shoved her hand into an electric outlet and then rubbed her cheeks with sandpaper.
I shrugged. It was the best I could do.
My job was simple. Lure out the potential traitor to the Hunters. Let Davenport take care of him. Return back to Dirk and resubmit my vacation request.
Do all of that without getting found out by the Hunters and killed.
Then I could finish my orgy.
The knock on my door was so quiet that I almost missed it. I leaped forward to pull the door open, eager to get my obligations out of the way. Hugo Sinclair stood on the other side of the door, his eyes widened at my exuberance. He blinked slowly, a flush rising on his cheeks as if he wanted to be anywhere by on my stoop.
“Hugo!” I clapped. “Do you want to come in? Tea, coffee? Jell-O cup?”
His brow creased. “You have Jell-O cups?”
I shrugged and rested my shoulder on the threshold of the door. “What’s a Demon like you, doing in a place like this?”
“Frankie...” Hugo groaned and looked over his shoulder. “You know I don’t like to talk about the... You know what.”
I chewed my lip. “Why would the Hunter’s even let a Demon in?” I said to myself.
Hugo looked hurt, but he squared his jaw and met my eyes. “You know why.” He said through gritted teeth. “Everyone here has something. Something that makes them different. Being a Demon doesn’t mean I don’t want to stop the ones that kill indiscriminately.”
I rolled my head to my shoulder and shrugged to concede that he had a point.
Hugo sighed. “I know you hate these things, but Davenport insisted. He also told me that I had to keep an eye on you.”
“Planning on putting that beautiful body in front of any bullets that might come my way?” I winked.
Hugo shifted awkwardly. “If it comes to that.”
I snorted a laugh and waved Hugo Sinclair forward. He moved with a slouch like he was apologetic for his height. For such a beautiful man, his hesitance and shyness were jarring.
“You have an apartment in the City, don’t you?” I asked as we stepped out of the dorms and into the brisk fall air.
“Yeah.” He shuffled forward. His head dipped in a nod as his hands hid inside his pockets. “We’ve all been called back to the compound, though. Until we find out what took out Team C.”
The social was held in the mess hall. All of the benches and tables had been moved to the side to form a square. The center of the room was bare and full of milling people. There was a beer cooler and soda.
I spotted Birthday Cake—the violet-eyed man with shiny black hair. He wore a tailored shirt and trousers. His gaze caught mine, and he saluted me with a bottle of bud.
Davenport had his back pressed against the wall and his arms crossed. He watched me like it was his job, hobby, and purpose in life. I wiggled my fingers in a mocking wave, and he scowled.
Frankie's memory provided a few names for the faces I saw, but no one approached.
I began to appreciate that Frankie Gardiner was not a social person. I didn’t know how long I could keep up the pretense.
I stayed in the center of the room, ensuring that I was visible to the potential traitor.
I could see where Davenport was coming from. Thrusting a dead person in front of their murderer was going to get a reaction. It was merely a case of keeping an eye on the people around us.
Warren Davenport caught my gaze, and his jaw clenched. He communicated something with his eyes, but I had no idea what it was.
Hugo clung to my side, hovering like a shadow, but saying nothing. I could sense his discomfort.
“Don't you like this sort of thing?” I asked.
“Too many people.” He murmured.
I considered that and thought of the other Incubi that I knew and the involuntary reactions they could invoke. I nodded sagely, agreeing with his assessment.
“Do you want a beer?” I jerked my finger to the cooler in the corner.
Hugo declined, but I used the opportunity to get a second to myself.
When I reached the cooler, I made sure to block the view inside with my back. I was bored, so I started to shake the cans of PBR and place them delicately back on the ice. I snickered to myself and grabbed a can of soda. I wished it was something stronger, but I had no desire to drink beer. It made me gassy.
“I saw that.” Remi stepped up to my shoulder, his eyes alight with laughter.
I shrugged as I opened my can of Coke and took a swig. “Just here to liven up the party.”
Remi's smile dropped after a second. “I wanted to ask, did you have an idea about the smoke Demon? The look on your face said that maybe you did?”
So, that’s why I keep losing at poker!
“It’s nothing.” I crafted my tone to be indifferent. Apathetic. “Do you want a drink?”
“Not after I saw what you did to the cans.” He teased. And like that, the conversation was dropped.
Pop music filtered through a tinny speaker in the corner, but no one danced. Hugo had crept into the corner to stand next to Sgt Hart. They were speaking in hushed tones. As if they could feel my eyes on them, they both looked my way.
I held up my red can and smiled sweetly.
“You’re the computer whiz, huh?” I murmured, turning back to Remi.
“It’s what I do.” He smirked playfully. “Although, sometimes I go into the field. It depends on what command wants.”
I nodded, and Remi snatched my can of soda from my hands, taking a long pull after he had deemed it safe. His Adam's apple bobbed; I thought about how his lips would feel.
I bet he was good with his hands. Any man that could type that fast had to be skilled with his fingers.
If I got any more excited, my eyes would turn black. Remi took another swig from my can, having commandeered it for his own.
“Can I borrow a tablet or something?” I asked. “I’m dying for access to hard-core porn.”
Remi spat soda everywhere and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. He opened his mouth to speak, but someone barged past and caused me to lose my balance.
Hugo straightened and began to cross the room towards me.
“Excuse you!” A haughty voice rang out. “You’re blocking the cooler.”
“And?” I said, cocking a brow as I sat up. I brushed the thighs of my jeans as I glanced up at the petite woman with a face like thunder. Riley Fisher. I blew a raspberry.
“You—” She spluttered.
“Let's dance.” I looked over my shoulder at Remi, holding my hand out. His lips were pressed together, holding back laughter. The crowd parted like a slow-moving tide as we made our way to the center of the room. Hugo shifted from foot to foot as he debated whether to join us.
I grabbed Remi's large callused hands and began to sway, Frankie's memory showed her doing something similar at five years old at a birthday party. Remi's one-man battle against hilarity failed, as I raised his hand and spun on my toes like a ballerina.
My neck jarred backward. My hair tore away from my scalp with sharp pain. The sound that came out of my mouth was one born of fear, a pitiful and throat tearing shriek.