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.
Chapter 16
Remi was pulled out of the room by Hart and taken to the medical ward. I was left alone with my broken circle and an uncomfortable canvas cot. I tried to sleep but found myself unable to.
Hours passed before Davenport came to my cell. I sat up immediately, before arranging my expression into an uncaring mask.
Warren Davenport held out his hand. A silver collar hung from his index finger.
“You must have some powerful friends,” Davenport said, his eye twitched. “The Higher-ups have officially petitioned for your release.”
I blinked slowly and waited for him to continue to speak.
“I seriously considered just killing you.” He admitted.
I smirked. “But I'm so likable.”
“This is an F-Status collar.” He informed me, even though I did not ask. “Feral shifters use them to prevent the change into their other form. I believe this will lock your magic into that body, so you cannot leave it.”
My lip tightened. “You want me to stay in this body?”
“Until whatever it taking out my Hunters is found.” He didn’t sound too happy about that. Davenport's eyes swept over the remnants of the broken salt circle, but he did not say anything.
“Is Remi okay?” I asked tentatively.
Davenport's gaze darkened. “He appears to have recovered.”
I nodded to myself and looked down at my hands. Existence was more comfortable when all I cared about was eating gourmet food and getting plowed.
I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
Davenport perched on the edge of the cot. He held out the collar. I eyed it with disgust but made no move to take it.