“What does that have to do with anything?” Riley's lips tightened.
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Think about it, Private Fisher. Why am I, Frankie Gardiner, back at the compound after being in a goddamn coma? Why am I not in Queens with my parents, watching crappy sitcoms and thanking the Seven Circles that I'm alive?”
She stayed silent as she waited for my answer. I spoke so quietly only she could hear.
“Davenport thinks someone in the base summoned whatever killed Team C. I’m here to lure it out, you clueless bint.”
Her mouth parted before she snapped it closed. Riley looked over her shoulders, furtively, to make sure I hadn’t been overheard.
“What?” She hissed.
I gave her a look as I picked up my tray and stood. “Don’t tell anyone, or Davenport will reign down hellfire on your ass.” And with that, I walked away.
Remi caught up with me on the path to the surveillance suite. He jogged up the track with a natural glowing smile; he had run to catch up with me, but he was not out of breath.
“Did you catch the show?” I said scornfully, as I kept my eyes on the path.
“Riley's harmless.” Remi waved his hand. “What did you say to her? She looked like her whole world was crashing down.”
I shrugged. “I suppose you’ve heard the rumors then.”
“About you and Davenport?” Remi quirked a brow. “Does he spank you and make you call him Daddy?”
“Don’t forget the St Andrew's Cross.” I murmured.
“For you, or him?”
“Him,” I smirked.
Remi burst out laughing and darted forward to open the door for me. His hand brushed against my back as we walked inside. I shivered. Every hair on my body rose; my core throbbed.
Damn. I needed to stay focused.
“Have you had any luck on the video so far?” I asked. “Did you manage to enhance the runes that flashed on their foreheads?”
Remi's gaze zeroed in on mine. He jerked back from his computer.
“The what?”
“The runes. 3.03 minutes in.” My brow furrowed.
Remi hissed under his breath. Swearing up a plethora of curse words. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, and he swung the monitor to me. “Point to the runes.” He demanded. All hints of my happy-go-lucky Remi were long gone, in his place was an eagle-eyed commando.
I hit the space bar to pause the video, just as the strange mark etched itself onto Hambone's forehead. “There.” I pointed.
Remi stared at the screen for a long time.
“There’s nothing there.”
I exhaled sharply through my nostrils, exasperated. I jabbed my finger at the screen again. “It’s right there. Not Demon. Not Angelic. Right. There.”
Remi pushed his office chair away from his desk and dialed a number on the office phone. “Come here now.” He demanded, before slamming down the phone without another word.
Remi's take-charge attitude was an unfamiliar change, but not an unwelcome one.
I practically purred.
Remi stood up, pacing. “Why didn't you say anything?”
I gave him a look. “It’s right there. I thought you saw it.”
Remi marched over to his desk and ripped open the top drawer. He rifled through the contents until he found a pen and paper. Alive with an urgency that I did not feel, he slammed the paper onto the desk. “Draw it, please.”
I sat down with a huff. I did my best, looking at the screen several times to get the lines right. It seemed a bit Arabic. More like writing than a picture. Something old. I left the last line incomplete. I didn’t want to activate an ancient magic rune without knowing what it did.
Remi leaned over my shoulder and studied the drawing in silence. I took the chance to tilt my head back into his chest. He was rock hard all over.
A few minutes later, Davenport arrived with a sullen expression and a frowning Hart on his heels. I did not make eye contact.
“What have you got for me?” Davenport asked. Remi jabbed his thumb towards my paltry drawing. I wheeled my chair back to get out the way.
“Not Cyclian.” Davenport murmured. “Have you run it through the translator?”
“Not yet,” Remi replied.
“Where did you find it?” The commander asked.
“Frankie saw it on the video. She thought we all did, so she didn’t say anything.” Remi explained.
Davenport gave me a look that could freeze water. “Is that right?”
“I wonder why she can see it, but we can't.” Remi's gaze drifted far away; it looked like he was lost in a realm of possibilities.
Hart stepped forward to see the sheet of paper; I moved further back.
“Frankie,” Davenport said the name of my host to get my attention. “Do you believe it could be Fae?”
It was a pretty direct question. I knew what Warren Davenport was doing. He thought that I was a Mimic Sidhe and, therefore, unable to tell a lie. I didn’t think it was Fae. The writing did not look like anything that belonged to Faery.
I met his eyes. “That writing is not Fae.”
If Remi and Hart thought that Davenport asking questions about the Fae language was strange, they didn’t let on.
Davenport nodded. It felt nice to be instantly trusted—even if it was because he believed that I was physically incapable of lying.
The expectation was that Demons lied. But the truth was much more complicated. Demons were often very honest when the answers mattered little to them. People never believed us anyway, and sometimes being truthful was more dangerous than deception.
“I have to make a few calls,” Davenport said, distracted already. “Frankie, I want to talk to you later. Privately. Hart—tell Weber and Gardiner what we found.”
Davenport was such a significant presence that I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.
“What’s the news?” I asked Hart.
Hart crossed his arms over his chest. “We found both a warehouse in Queens and Maywood. Animal bones. Blood. Summoning circles. The one in Maywood was a trial run, but the one in Queens looked like it brought through something nasty.” Hart's orange eyes flicked from Remi to me, as Remi put his hand on my shoulder.
“You think it's to do with Team C?” I asked around a lump in my throat.
“We didn’t. Until we found the Maywood site.” Hart explained with little emotion. “No reason for our Unsub to come out this far unless he was at the compound.”
“Looks like Davenport's theory might be correct,” Remi grunted. “At least he hadn’t tried to make a move for you.”
Hart zeroed in on me. “You didn’t mention your collapse.”
Remi's back went straight as his voice went low and dangerous. “What?”
I waved a hand to dismiss his words. “Dr. Dan said it was just stress.”
“What?” Remi repeated. His tone grew more demanding.
“Frankie collapsed yesterday. She told me that she thought she had been poisoned.”
Remi stood up. His fists clenched. “Gary.” He spat as he marched to the door. I leaped forward and grabbed his arm.
“There was no poison, Big Guy.” I squeezed his bicep. “It must have been low blood sugar or something.”
Remi's eyes narrowed; he didn’t believe me. To be fair, I didn’t believe it either. I had demonic healing. The only way I would collapsed was if something had downed my host very quickly. Like a shot to the heart or a fast-acting poison.
I didn’t say that, though. The only reason my host was still alive was because of me. That poison should have killed her.