“What is her name?” Hugo asked. His fists clenched.
“She called herself Mara.” Davenport sneered. “But Demons are known to lie.”
I scoffed. That was patently untrue. Demons were actually very truthful creatures—though our truths differed from small-minded Human ones. My sound of derision was unnatural.
“Mara?” Hugo stepped closer to the circle. “I know who you are.” His voice was soft, and I realized that all of his anger that had been simmering under the surface was directed to Davenport and Remi. “We won't hurt you.” Hugo held up his palm, disarmingly.
Davenport's shoulder barged Hugo out of the way. Scuffing the incubus's shoe against the edge of the circle, disturbing the pristine line. “What are you doing?” Warren snarled. “A Demon is a threat until we can collar it and determine its motives. You're talking to it like a stray cat.”
My smoke spun slowly, becoming visible piece by piece. I hung two feet above the ground, curled over so the numerous limbs of my darkness could test the edge of the circle. Gone. The magic had dissipated. No one had felt the loss.
Hugo stood his ground. “You will not hurt her.” He rose up to meet Davenport's face. Hugo's ice blue eyes glowed.
Remi stood between the two, his hand slipped into the small space between their two hard chests as he tried to push them apart. Neither man moved.
“And why's that?” Davenport asked dangerously, and it was clear that he did like being told what to do.
Hugo's magic leaked from his skin. Davenport's trousers tented, and the room grew hotter. Remi flushed and pulled away, fanning himself with his collar but looking away.
“Control yourself, Sinclair.” Davenport snarled, his own eyes glowed like embers. I was impressed with the amount of magic slipping out of Hugo, I would have expected even the most dominate man to spin on his heels and present like a dog in heat.
“No.” Hugo dared.
“You want to go to bat for a Demon. A spy for the Fae?” Davenport mocked. “We have a duty to The Balance.”
Hugo's palms lashed out, slamming against Warren’s chest, forcing the commander back.
“She’s my mate!” Hugo screamed.
They stared over Hugo's shoulders as I rose, blanketing the incubus in the smoothing darkness of the night sky. I unfurled myself behind him, free, tendrils outstretched like a black pair of wings.
Chapter 15
When Davenport stopped threatening Hugo, I slipped back to the circle, docile like a well-trained puppy.
The commander's eyes immediately found the broken circle. “Fix that.” Davenport barked. Hugo stepped away from the edge of the circle as Remi bent over and pulled a canister of salt from his utility belt.
“It is you.” Hugo’s eyes were wide. His gaze clouded when he looked down at Frankie's dead body. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She can't speak in that form.” Remi put his hand on Hugo's shoulder.
“But—” I knew what Hugo had been about to say before he had interrupted himself. He had heard my voice in Hell. But dreams and nightmares obeyed a different set of rules. Drudes were silent, never touching. Never interacting with the world. Carried by the wind. Feeding on hidden terrors like a dog looking for scraps.
“Who else knows?” Hugo demanded.
“Dr. Lee knew about the Mimic Sidhe plan.” Davenport pressed his fingers against his head. Discreetly massaging his temple, I hoped he was getting a headache. “Only the three of us know she's a Demon.”
“Then we don't tell anyone,” Hugo said, pulling his attention from my spectral form. “We can let her go.”
“Then how do you catch the killer?” Remi asked. “Because using Frankie as bait was the only plan we had.”
“You were perfectly fine using a recovering woman as a target for a Demon.” Hugo pointed out. “Mara is a Demon too. She can handle it.”
“Hugo...” Davenport stepped forward.
“No.” The incubus waved him off. “She’s my mate. I trust her.”
“She’s a Demon,” Remi said softly.
Hugo flushed, hurt slashed across his features. “So am I.” The force of his emotion was heart-breaking.
Davenport looked stricken. He turned back to the reinforced circle. “Mara, can you return to Frankie's body so we can talk to you?” Davenport was reluctant to step closer to the circle; I wondered if it was because he remembered how close he had gotten to an untrustworthy Demon, that night in our hotel room.
With a sigh, I drifted as petulantly as I could (which was a feat for a being made of shadows) and poured myself into Frankie's body. The sweet taste of decay clung to her throat, and I coughed as I sat up—if I left her body again, I wouldn’t be able to go back inside. Frankie’s eyes turned black before I blinked the oil slick away. I stood, awkwardly arranging my limbs. As I stumbled like a baby fawn, Davenport reached forward to help me, before catching his hand at the salt barrier. Hugo watched the exchange with a shrewd expression.
The world returned slowly. Taste, smell, and touch. I felt the heat of the room. Hugo’s magic was a rolling drumbeat against my borrowed skin. The scent of burning plastic hung in the air from Remi's Witchling spells. My joints ached. The rush of sensations was almost too much to bear, and I struggled to focus.
“Are you involved with the Ifrit?” Davenport demanded.
My brow quirked. “Drudes don't really interact with other Demons.”
Davenport rolled his hand to indicate that I should hurry my explanation. I cocked my hip.
“That’s a no.” I snarled. I didn’t mention that Ifrits and Dijinn were way above me on the power scale. My only advantage was that I didn’t have a body they could kill.
“And you work for Dirk?” Remi chimed in.
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
Davenport waved Remi and Hugo over to the side, away from the circle. He glanced at me over Hugo’s shoulder before turning away.
“We can't let her out.” Davenport murmured.
Hugo looked ready to burst. “She’s not a prisoner.” His arms crossed over his chest as if daring for someone to argue with him.
“Hugo...” Remi seemed reluctant to speak. “She lied to you. She hid her identity. She knows too much about the compound. We can't...”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Hugo warned.
“I can hear you!” I called out theatrically, with my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice. “Look, guys. You can let me out. Seriously. I'm very trustworthy.”
“You stole Warren's credit card.” Remi pointed out dryly. “And made me drink mouthwash.”
“So?” I laughed. “It’s not like I murdered anyone.” Apart from that creepy trucker—but they didn’t need to know that.
Davenport turned to me. “This conversation does not concern you.”
“Really?” I tapped my chin with my finger. “Because I think it's very concerning, Sir.” I blew him a kiss.
“What is she talking about?” Remi bit back laughter, despite his efforts not to.
“Tell them I know what you taste like,” I whispered with a conspiring wink.
Hugo's fists clenched. “Don’t tell me...”
Remi held up his hands and stepped between the incubus and the commander. “Lads. Calm down.” His voice sounded rougher and even more English if that were possible.
Davenport gave everyone his signature look. “Out.” He pointed to the Hunters, and he ignored me as he marched out of the room.