Hugo was horrified. “Tell me he was arrested.”
“It wasn’t a crime in NYC at the time. The court found him not guilty.” I explained.
Every other Hunter was sweeping the room, but their heads tilted to me as they pretended not to listen.
“He got away with it?” Hugo rubbed his mouth. “Shit. Damn.”
I ignored his swearing. “He was found not guilty. But it was so random—” I injected sadistic cheer into my voice. “He walked right into the Hudson. Didn't even leave a suicide note.”
“He deserved to go to prison.” Davenport stepped up to my side.
“He wasn't a nice person,” I said darkly. In fact, Finley Ryan had been a fan of Rohypnol, and not taking no for an answer. The Seventh Circle would have fun with him. Asmodeus, the Queen of Lust, enjoyed taunting rapists in creative and horrific ways.
Remi perched on the armrest of the couch and began to type, glancing up at the photos on the wall sporadically.
“I’ve checked our database. Every person who's picture is on this wall was Fae.” Remi informed us. “Except Frankie.”
“We don't record that.” Davenport stiffened.
“I cross-referenced every person here with their latest physical. Not one person had iron in their blood.” Remi explained. “That means Fae.”
I did a little dance. “I was right?”
“No one likes a braggart.” Davenport gave me his signature look. I stuck out my tongue.
“Only a third of the people that were killed are on this wall.” Jae stepped forward, his fingers brushed the face of one of Team G. “No one that was taken out by the Ifrit is on here.”
“Collateral damage.” Hart nodded, scratching his bearded scruff thoughtfully.
A flash of platinum blonde hair caught my eye. The Balance stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her presence was eerie. She had appeared so suddenly that I physically jumped, drawing the attention of the entire team. No one else turned to look at the child; it was as if she wasn’t there.
“Let’s check out the bedroom?” I suggested. Davenport took out his gun and walked right through The Balance like she was a reflection staring back from a pond.
When Davenport returned, he was holding a white business card.
“Do you know anything about this?” His voice was light, dangerous. The commander flicked the card in my direction. I grabbed it out of the air and turned it over in my hands. A translucent snowflake shone on one side, but the rest of the card was blank. Expensive card stock.
My gaze turned questioning as I moved the card, so the tiny metallic snowflake caught the light.
“That belongs to your boss,” Davenport growled. “Dermot Dirk.”
I slumped down in the IKEA armchair but slapped the wooden armrest in frustration when the damn seat threatened to spit me onto the floor if I adopted the brace position.
I couldn't deny that my boss was a shady character. He played his life like a game of blackjack, only Dirk knew the cards before the dealer had even pulled the first one.
The Fae Lord's bar straddled Tír na nÓg and NYC, but he had a dozen mercenaries. It would not have been difficult to enlist an Ifrit to help his killing spree.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I whispered to myself. “What courts do the Fae victims belong to?”
Remi, perched on the edge of the couch, pulled up the files again. “It doesn't say.”
Davenport's face was made of stone.
“What?” Jae turned away from his intense study of the photo wall. “Your emotions just went sub-zero.”
“Dermot Dirk could be taking out the majority of my Hunters. Our verbal agreement stipulated that he would help me.” Davenport pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging his forehead as if he was getting a headache. “The Fae are tricky. He could be killing my Hunters. Helping by ensuring I have fewer people to look after?”
I snorted. “You asked for a favor after the first Team died.” I pointed out.
“How does that explain his card?” Davenport spat, his demeanor shifted as his calm mask slipped. I stood up, staggering as the flimsy chair pitched to the side when it lost my weight.
I stepped into his space, but the top of my head only reached his chin. “The Summoner asked Dermot for help by pretending to be you.”
Davenport’s face twitched as he realized something. He swore, as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Looking for something, boss?” Jae asked rhetorically as Warren Davenport began pulling out cards from his wallet and stuffing them back into their folds.
Hugo and Remi watched on, both alert.
“It's gone.” Davenport snarled, rearing back, he threw his wallet across the room. Taking out a cheap paper lamp and making the bulb shatter with an almighty crash.
Hugo's lips pinched. “What’s gone?” His eyes flicked to mine, silently asking if I had taken anything.
“I put it back.” I cocked my hip to the side, referring to Davenport's shiny black AMEX that I had used to treat the guys to tequila at the bar (one time).
Warren held out his hand for the business card that I was still twirling around my fingers. “I had a card in my wallet. It's gone.” He said.
“You think that's the card?” I asked.
Davenport did not answer my question, but he didn’t need to.
Remi's laptop snapped shut. “I’m still trying to pull the names of the warehouse owners where the ritual sights are, but it looks like we're back to square one.”
Hugo reached forward and twined his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand.
It looked like I would be around a bit longer. As Remi packed his things away, his eyes hooked on mine for just a second. Our Soulbond vibrated like a guitar string.
Chapter 19
The next day started with breakfast in the Mess Hall and swiftly moved onto training in one of the clearings with Hugo.
I took my time, circling the makeshift arena, before joining the group of young Hunters. Everyone was a suspect. Someone had stolen Dirk’s business card from Davenport's wallet. In the wrong hands, it was deadly.
I trusted my team—Davenport, Hugo, Hart, Jae, and Remi—but I could fit the number of other people that I had spent time with at the compound inside of a thimble.
I watched Riley doing press-ups, as Bun-girl Chloe chewed her thumbnail while texting instead of counting her friend's reps. The two young men traded blows, my head tilted to the side as I tried to remember their names. Chad and Brad or something.
Hugo stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, shouting out commands in short bursts. I watched the group shift without argument and kicked away from my seat on the fence, so I could join in the exercise before Hugo reprimanded me in front of his other students.
I jogged over and was paired with Riley. I slipped on some boxing pads as the petite woman bounced on her heels. Her curly hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, but a few wisps had managed to escape by her ears.
I held out my hands, and we fell into a comfortable rhythm as Riley's blows crossed over and hit each pad evenly.
“You need to watch out for Alicia.” Riley did not look at me as she spoke.
“Why?” I was genuinely perplexed.
“She thinks something is going on with you and Remi.”
The sound that escaped my throat was strangled laughter. Riley pulled back, her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched as she studied me.
“Holy shit!” She hissed, glancing over her shoulder with a wince when she realized her volume. “Something is going on!” Riley kept her voice low.