Remi looked back and smiled for the first time since he had found out I was a Demon.
I couldn't physically touch the salt while I was inside Frankie's body—it burnt my skin and did not heal quickly—but I also couldn’t vacate Frankie's body without risking being unable to get back inside.
So, I was stuck in one position. Standing rigidly in the center of the Cyclian rune for Imprisonment and trapping.
I drifted in my own mind for a while, as I thought about everything and nothing.
I didn’t know how long I stood still before Remi and Davenport came back. Instead of Hugo, Dr. Lee had decided to join them.
“I thought we weren’t telling anybody?” I said happily, pretending to be calm and comfortable when it was a struggle to stand.
Davenport said nothing. I turned to Dr. Lee. “Hey, Birthday Cake.”
The Korean man smirked. “Mara.”
Davenport cleared his throat and addressed Remi and Jae, ignoring me.
“Your guard shift starts now.” The Commander told them sternly. “Do not let her get under your skin.” He gave me a dark look before marching away.
“You really bother him,” Jae noted, he seemed to take a wicked sense of delight in the notion. Jae glanced at Remi before he stepped forward.
“In my defense, I was left unsupervised,” I said harmlessly. “I’m normally much better behaved.”
“Really?” Remi chuckled.
“No.” I winked.
“Your emotions make sense now,” Jae replied. His hands were in his pockets, just shooting the breeze like two old friends. “For a Demon, you seem remarkably balanced.”
“I prefer the term, Chaotic Evil.”
Remi sat on the concrete floor and crossed his legs. He yawned and stretched, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall.
“Hey!” I pouted. “Aren’t you meant to be guarding me?”
Remi did not open his eyes. “Try and get past that circle. I dare you.”
Jae's eyes sparkled with delight. He stepped back.
My fists clenched and I gave Remi the stink eye. “I’m an evil Demon!” I stamped my foot. “Take me seriously, dammit!”
Jae hid his smile behind his hand. “Mara...”
I was trapped. There wasn’t much I could do. They could keep me in the circle until they decided to kill me. I wasn't sure Hugo would be able to stop them. Still, I had pride and absolutely no impulse control.
My magic became a blade. It raced across the room and sliced into Remi's brain with the careful precision of a surgical scalpel.
“You’re scared of spiders?” My brows raised. “Really?”
Remi's eyes flew open. “How did you know that?”
My magic affected the mind. I couldn’t physically create spiders, but I could draw his nightmare to the surface of his mind. Remi yelped, like a dog with a trodden tail. He stood up and raced to the corner. Jae and I watched with detached curiosity as the bald man began to brush the unseen insects away from his body. Jumping around like he stood on hot coals.
Jae snickered.
“Help me, you sadistic winged bastard!” Remi barked at Jae as he tried to shake the insects off of his body.
I allowed the spiders to melt away, buried deep in his nightmares. He was unhurt, although Remi seemed on edge as he jumped and slapped his arm even after the arachnids were long gone.
“Do me!” Jae urged, with an enthusiastic clap.
I rolled my eyes and searched his mind for his fears. I pulled my magic back into my body, shocked straight. I shook my head frantically.
“No way,” I muttered. “You freak.”
“Coming from you, that’s high praise.” Jae mused.
“What?” Remi demanded, curious.
I eyed Jae critically. “You’re messing with me.”
Jae shrugged. “You’ll never know.”
There was no way that the Nephilim had a phobia of yogurt.
Remi covered his mouth as he yawned again. It was then that I noticed the dark circles around his eyes. “I’m going for a piss.” He told Jae. “Watch her.”
When Remi left, Jae turned to me. “How long have you been in that circle?”
I shrugged because I did not know. His violet eyes stormed at my non-verbal response.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He asked and I realized that his anger was because he cared about my wellbeing.
I rolled my head on my shoulders and took inventory. “I think so.”
Jae shook his head. “I’ll get you something to eat when Remi comes back.”
My brow creased. I had expected Jae to joke about it with me. To make fun, and to take my mind off of my situation. I hadn't expected comfort.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked suspiciously.
Jae smirked his crooked grin. “I’ve been in your shoes.”
“Davenport put you in a circle for days?” I asked dryly. Somehow, I couldn’t see it.
“No. My Omma.” Jae admitted casually. “She was a cold woman. The only time she ever smiled was when she cooked. She would lock me in the closet when she went to work. Paranoid that I'd cause mischief when she was away.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“I was seven.” He added.
My mind conjured up the distressing image of a tiny boy with a bowl haircut slamming his fists into the shuttered door of a closet and crying.
“Demons don’t harm children,” I said.
“There are many ways to harm that aren't physical.”
I hummed my agreement. “Is that why you became a therapist?”
Jae considered my question. “I thought I was a psychopath for a while.”
“Really?” I asked excitedly.
Jae gave me a hard look. “I felt like I was mimicking emotions. I wore a mask constantly. Smiled at the right times. Said all the right things.”
I had seen his therapist mask. That blank and earnest innocence that was so far off the mark it was almost funny.
“I experienced everyone else’s emotions all of the time, and I struggled to identify my own. I realized that it was okay to be an introvert. I like my space. I only interact with a few people at a time. I was depressed for a long time.” Jae continued.
“Why are you telling me this?” I cocked my head to the side like a confused puppy.
“I was lost until I found my place with the Hunter’s.” Jae gave me a meaningful look. “I think you're lost too.”
I started to consider his words as the door slipped down, and Remi entered again.
“Did I miss anything?” The Witchling asked, not looking at me.
“A riveting game of Charades.” Jae lied with a bright smile.
A few hours later, Davenport brought in a cot for Remi, as Dr. Lee swapped over with Hart. Hart brought a bottle of water and a greasy bag filled with burgers and fries. Not the healthiest, but my stomach felt like it was going to devour itself. Human hunger was different from Demon hunger. More sluggish and painful. I didn’t like it.
Remi had curled up and gone to sleep in the corner of the bare room, as Hart stood to attention by the door. I wolfed down my burger, wiping the residue of my meal from my face with the back of my bare arm.
“How long has it been since you last ate?” Hart did not look at me as he asked the question. His arms were crossed as he stood sentry.
“The morning we went to NYC.” I sucked Coke through a straw. The ice made my teeth ache.
“But you need to eat?”
“Only when I’m in a body.” I clarified.
“Why don’t you just leave?” He asked.
I waved a hand to gesture to the salt line on the floor and quirked a brow.
Hart shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I don’t believe for a second that you're actually trapped.”
“Believe it,” I grunted. “My ass is numb from standing for so long.”
Remi stirred in his sleep and rolled over. He did not wake.
“Why is Remi here? The shift changed over already.”
“His magic is warding the circle,” Hart informed me.
Guilt twisted my stomach. Apart from the salt line, Remi's magic couldn’t touch me. I hated that he was wasting his life force on something so trivial.
“Davenport thinks I’m a big threat, huh?” I laughed bitterly.
“You’re not worried he's going to kill you?”
“If anyone could, it would be Daddy Davenport.” I admitted. I turned to Hart and appraised the burly man with curiosity. “You’re talking more than usual.”
“I honestly thought I had gone insane.” He gave me a dirty look. “I'm glad you aren't really Frankie. It's been fucking with my head for days.”
I nodded. “You’re not angry.”
Hart shrugged. “Jae explained.”
“Ah. Jae.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
Hart ignored my statement. Remi let out a breathy laugh in his sleep. It was very cute. I wanted to see what he was dreaming about, but that would take more energy than I had.
“I think that Remi is trying to avoid Alicia anyway.” Hart followed my eyes to land on the sleeping man.
“She’s here already?” My heart squeezed painfully like someone had gripped it in their fist and twisted.
“Another team got attacked,” Hart said. “We believe it was the same Demon that took out Team C.”
“Damn.” I breathed. “Did anyone survive?”
“Two people lived longer than the rest.” Hart's tone was dead. “They did not have any visible injuries. All of their levels were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“But the rest of the team were fried on the inside?” I stepped to the edge of the salt circle. “Which team?”
“Team G,” Hart said. “All fried, apart from two.”
The strangeness of the homicide whirled around my mind. Why not just kill them all the same way? If I was a murdering Demon, that’s what I would do.
Unless I knew the terms of the summoning, I could not accurately say if the Ifrit was acting under the complete control of its summoner. Was there a significance in the different types of death?
“Thinking too hard gives me a migraine.” I moaned.
“And feminists everywhere weep.” Hart deadpanned.
I narrowed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. “I’m a Demon. When I concentrate, bad things happen.”
Hart exhaled. It almost sounded like he was laughing at me.
“I need the bathroom,” I added. Fairly certain that I also stank to high heaven. Humans did things like sweat, even when they were doing nothing.
Hart glanced over at Remi, and with a sigh, he used his foot to break the pristine line of salt. He marched over to the door and only looked over his shoulder once.
“Are you coming?” Callum asked.
I stumbled over the salt circle, with unsteady legs, as the Sergeant continued on without me. Confident that I was following.
I used the two seconds alone to bite my thumb and swipe the bloody digit on Remi's bottom lip before I hurried after Hart. I couldn’t have explained my reasoning, even if I tried.
My blood would heal Remi, and hopefully, negate some of the symptoms of his excess magic use. I had never seen the vibrant man so rundown.
Hart stood in the utilitarian corridor. He tapped his foot before he glided to the end of the empty hallway and opened a door, ushering me through.
The bathroom was a shower and toilet combination. I eyed the soap with Lust and Envy but made no move towards them. Hart guarded the bathroom, content that I would not try to escape.
“I could have left Frankie in the bathroom and be halfway to NYC by now,” I said brightly when I had done my business.
Hart licked his bottom lip. “Doubt it.”
“Why’s that?” I stopped walking and cocked my hip.
“I have a theory.” Hart turned to face me. His marmalade eyes bored into mine. “Dirk owes Davenport for London, but I think you owe Dirk. You're not going to leave a job half done, and screw over your boss.”
“Maybe I'm just horny for Hunters.” I joked, but it fell flat. A little bit too close to the bone.
“Say what you want.” Hart was smug. “You’re in this until the end.”
We walked back to my prison cell. The salt circle laid broken, as we had left it, but Remi was no longer on the cot.
He had rolled onto the hard concrete floor, his hands around his throat as he gasped on a silent scream. Huge choking breaths escaped his lips, and his eyes bulged.
Hart rushed to his side immediately. He shifted Remi into the recovery position.
“What’s wrong?” Hart's tone was steady. Calm in a crisis.
“My skin. Burns.” Remi wheezed.
Hart whirled around, paying attention to me for the first time since we had walked into the room. My back was pressed against the concrete wall.
“Could it be the Ifrit?” Hart demanded.
I gestured helplessly. “I think so.” I hated that my voice was weak as I watched Remi grunt in pain.
Hart gripped Remi's khaki cotton t-shirt and ripped it down from the collar to the hem in one swift and short movement. I was too worried to even make a joke.
Circles and lines marked the space over Remi's heart. Inflamed red, before they melted to silvery faded scars.
My mouth went dry. I wanted to run far and fast, but my feet would not move.
“Did the Ifrit mark me?” Remi's voice pitched as he looked down at his bare chest. His fingers sought the markings like a blind man reading braille.
Hart looked at me for clarification.
“Not quite,” I admitted sheepishly.