“You found my brush!” I bounced before Remi put his hand on my crown to keep me still. “Where was it?”
Remi did not answer my question. “What have you been doing to your hair?” He started to tug and braid my hair away from my face.
“You're really good at that,” I said.
“I have three younger sisters. They have hair similar to yours.”
The repetitive movement of his fingers against my scalp was comforting; before long, my eyes dropped closed again and I had to fight to stay awake.
“Where did you go at breakfast?” I asked sluggishly.
Remi tied a braid. “Nowhere important.”
Calling his fiancée unimportant didn't sound conducive to a happy marriage, but what did I know?
“Did you want to talk or something?” I offered lamely, as Remi braided my hair and hummed to himself. His lips pulled into a slow but bright smile.
“Mara, I'm okay. I swear.”
I didn't know what I wanted. Some deep part of me whispered that I should wrap him in my arms and kiss him until we forgot our own names.
“All done.” He patted my head, still smiling indulgently. I wiggled around so that I could see the results in the mirror. It looked good.
Frankie had hair that bordered on dry and frizzy but still managed to curl into loose waves. It hovered on the threshold of Caucasian hair. Remi had managed to tame the mess. Every time I had looked at it, I had felt a surge of guilt towards my host for not taking care of her properly. It didn’t matter that Frankie's soul had left its vessel weeks before, I still felt a sense of responsibility towards keeping it safe.
That was one of the reasons that I hadn’t thrown caution to the wind and lost my metaphorical virginity.
I might have been a Demon, but forcing someone’s body to have sex even when they weren’t inside sounded pretty crappy to me.
“There's steam coming from your ears.” Remi took the end of one of my Dutch braids in his hand and rubbed it between his index and pointer finger. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Sex.” I blurted out.
Remi slumped and let out a theatrical groan. “Mara...” He flung his arm over his face as he laid on the bed. “Don’t. I've already had to listen to Alicia talk, at length, about how I am not to 'take a lover' while we are engaged.”
“I could always kill her for you.” I offered sincerely.
Remi, still prone on my bed with his eyes hidden, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small straw doll with no features. A band of straggly hair was wrapped around its neck like a collar, and I reached up to my own throat to make sure that my silver band was still in place. Remi pushed the straw doll into my hands without explanation.
I turned it over in my palms. “What’s this?”
“A poppet.”
I sniffed. “Coolios, I guess,” I said before I tried to hand it back. Remi did not take it, but he eased his elbow away from his face so that I could see the tortured expression there.
“A poppet is like a western voodoo doll. Witchlings use them to focus malicious magic. They need a strand of hair, or drop of blood, to make one.” Remi explained, glancing down at the straw doll.
“I feel like I am missing something.” I cocked my head to the side. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed next to Remi and fall asleep.
“Alicia stole your brush. She broke into your room and made a poppet so she could hurt you.” His chocolate eyes narrowed and flicked away as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. His jaw clenched. I shifted, crouching over and cupping his cheek.
“Remi,” I repeated his name until his attention came back to me. Soft but steady. “Her magic can't hurt me.”
“She wanted to hurt you.” He said through tight lips.
I smiled sadly. “Yeah.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” He sat up abruptly, his face only an inch from mine. I suddenly realized that I was on all fours, hovering over his body. It would have taken so little to move forward and feel his plush lips against mine. To see him smile and look down at me like he wanted me. That he was proud that we were Bonded.
Remi made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and pulled away, he gripped my shoulders so that I did not fall, as he lowered my body into a seated position. Remi stood and began to pace. Stopping once, he looked back at me and opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it with an audible click of his teeth.
He strode to the door, determined to leave before he slowly stopped and hung his head. “I came to see you because Team P has a mission. Davenport wants you at the SUV by twenty-three hundred hours.” Remi tilted his jaw to speak and did not look at me as he said the words. I had no chance to ask any questions before he was gone.
“So, let me get this straight?” I said, turning to the back of the van from the passenger seat. “We’re going to a duck pond, to hunt some deadly beastie.”
No one said a word as they strapped themselves into the seats in the back.
“A duck pond?” I giggled incredulously. “Come on, guys, did anyone pack any bread?”
Only Jae snorted a laugh. Hugo rolled his eyes, and the others looked distracted. I turned to Davenport in the driver's seat as he adjusted his mirrors.
“Do you find me funny, Daddy Davenport?” I pouted. I saw every man in the back of the van perk up like a prairie dog, but they remained silent.
“Brat.” Warren gave me his signature chiding look. I smiled and clapped in delight. His lips pulled into an easy smirk, arrogant and cocky, full of Davenport’s trademark confidence.
The drive was short, and it didn’t take us long to find the small park in the center of a cookie-cutter neighborhood on the edge of Maywood. I wondered why some Demon or Fae had decided to set up shop so close to the Hunters compound—but then I remembered that no one else actually knew where the compound was. The knowledge was carefully guarded.
Shielded from view by a concrete wall covered in graffiti, and a chicken wire fence with beautiful floral bouquets woven into the mesh, I paused outside of the entrance and looked at the rain-damaged photos of two smiling victims with the words RIP written in golden sharpie above their heads.
Everyone had loaded their weapons and readied themselves for whatever mission required our presence, except for me. I was unarmed and dressed in sweats. I had asked Davenport for a gun, and he had laughed at me until he looked like he was going to have a heart attack. The rest of the team had eyed him like he was having a nervous breakdown.
My only retort was a scathing look.
“Mara, you, me and Jae, will scout the west side of the pond. I want the rest of you on guard in case it goes south—Remi, stay by the car.” Davenport threw his gun over his shoulder as he marched into the kiddie park like the terminator. He looked ready to throw down and seemed to be taking the entire mission too seriously. The backdrop of brightly colored monkey bars and a jaunty twirly slide hooked my attention long enough that I was tempted to ditch the Hunters and try out the equipment.
Jae put his hand on the small of my back, leading me back to the path. We fell into step behind the commander.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“You can play afterward,” Jae assured me as Davenport walked from the path to the edge of a sizeable black space that must have been the pond.
Despite the assurance that it had once been a duck pond, there were no birds in sight. The reeds were still, and the water looked like glass.
Davenport and Jae clicked on their flashlights and began to shine them around, studying our surroundings.