Davenport watched with interest. “I take it that the engagement is off.”
“I need to make a few calls this morning, but I wanted to say 'Hi' first.” Remi turned to me, his eyes focused on mine like I was the only person in the world to exist for him. I was a cat, laying in a deliciously warm patch of sun. I wanted to bottle that feeling and treasure it.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
Warren cleared his throat. “Have you been able to do any more research on the Ifrit?” He asked Remi.
Remi pulled a phone out of his pocket, swiped, and then turned the screen towards Davenport. “There was an antique listing a few years ago for something called a 'Genie cage' jewelry box. The rune on the side looks similar to the one that Mara saw on the security tape. I think that this box, or one like it, was used to trap the Ifrit.”
“Dermot Dirk wouldn’t provide the details of summoning?” Davenport's look darkened with storm clouds.
“Not unless we meet in person.” Remi slipped his phone back in his pocket. “But, I'm confident that a brass box would hold an incorporeal demon.”
“Can I see that?” I cleared my throat, gesturing to Remi's phone. Remi took the device out of his pocket and handed it to me. The two men continued to speak, theorizing about the Ifrit, as I stared at the brass box on the tiny phone screen. There was something inherently familiar about the box. I couldn’t put my finger on it. My mind was racing with thoughts, but they hung behind a thick fog. I couldn’t seem to form a coherent idea.
“Will the Ifrit turn on its summoner?” Davenport speculated. “Could we do something to make that happen?”
“All Ifrits turn on their summoner.” I murmured, not taking my eyes from the screen as I studied the photo. “They help with the summoner’s revenge, and when that’s done, they feed on the summoner too. It’s demonic karma.”
“So, the Ifrit will eventually take care of our problem?” Remi perched on the armrest of my chair. “It’s just a matter of time?”
Davenport’s lip tightened. “And how many people perish in the meantime?”
Remi held up his hands disarmingly. “I want to catch this guy as much as you do.”
Jae and Hart wandered into the room. Hart looked like he was ready for action, but Jae scratched his stomach and stretched, his shirt was wrinkled as if he had just rolled out of bed. They bid us all a good morning before Jae swiped my coffee and finished the dregs.
Jae smacked his lips in disgust. “This coffee is cold.”
Everyone ignored him.
“Could we lure the Ifrit away with a new master?” Davenport slapped his file closed.
The men continued to think out loud, but their voices felt like cartoonish parodies as I tried to focus. Womp womp womp, like hearing someone talk while underwater. I had to make sense of what I was thinking. It was important, but paying attention to one thing for an extended period of time was hard. It made my chest feel itchy, and my head feel cloudy.
“Guys.” I snapped. “I need a second to think.”
Everyone stopped talking, looking at me like I had grown another head. I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled. Remi's phone sat in my other hand as I searched my mind for reference of a brass box.
Sifting through the collective memories of my Cluster, and then the residue from various possessions, I growled in frustration.
“Can we talk now?” Jae whispered. My eyes flicked open as Remi flailed his arms and put his finger to his lips.
“Is everyone alright? It just got really quiet!” Hugo froze in the doorway, noticing the tension.
“I’ve seen this box before,” I said, brandishing the phone.
Davenport sat up. “Where?”
I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Remi pulled it from my weak fingers before I could do so. “What is a supplement?” I asked, instead.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Davenport demanded. Jae reached over and touched his shoulder, shaking his head minutely.
Jae answered my question. “A pill you can buy over the counter. When someone lacks certain minerals and vitamins, because of their diet or a medical issue, taking a supplement helps.”
“So, you'd take an iron pill for anemia?” I asked, my voice sluggish as I struggled to collect my thoughts.
“Or an injection.” Jae supplied helpfully.
Frankie's file laid abandoned at my feet, the contents scattered like giant square confetti. “The injections aren't in there.” I murmured to myself.
Someone put a hand on my back. I looked up to see Hart, leaning over and offering me comfort.
“Injections?” Davenport prompted, losing patience.
“Dr. Daniel gave me injections. Vitamins. Every time I've been in the infirmary.” I said numbly.
Remi picked up the file and began to read, rearranging the pages. “There are no injections listed here. All of the other records are pretty comprehensive.”
“Injections.” Davenport echoed, without emotions. His eyes zeroed in on mine. “He’s been giving you injections since you arrived.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know what vitamins were. I was afraid to ask.”
“Afraid to ask.” Davenport enunciated my words as if he had trouble understanding them. I wondered if anyone else in the room could feel the burning heat that had begun to radiate from Warren's direction. The commander pulled out his phone and dialed the infirmary. He spoke a few words before hanging up and calling another number. We all watched without saying a word as Davenport's anger grew like a boulder gathering speed as it rolled down a hill.
Pacing the room, Davenport turned to us. “Daniel Gardiner left to go home for Christmas. I phoned the Gardiner’s. He never arrived, and they aren’t expecting him.”
“Wait,” My eyes widened, incredulous. “You think it's Daniel? Fae killer. Demon summoner. Master manipulator. Daniel Gardiner?”
No one spoke.
“Boring, white bread, no sense of humor, Daniel Gardiner?” My voice notched, as panic edged my words.
“Think back,” Davenport asked delicately. “Where did you see the brass box?”
I gaped like a fish.
Remi exhaled deeply and closed his eyes as he tried to remember. “Dr. Gardiner had a brass box in his office. I told you off for playing with it. It looked like an old cigarette box.”
“Right.” Davenport nodded, repeating the word to himself. “If everyone could step out for a moment while I speak to Mara?”
Hart kept his hand on my back. “I think we're going to stay.” His voice held no room for argument.
Davenport continued as if Hart hadn’t spoken. “I have lost some of my most promising Hunters. Almost started a war with the Fae in the process. Used all of my resources and put several teams on finding the traitor in my camp—and you're telling me that he has been injecting you, since day one, with the very poison that has been killing the Fae under my care.”
“She couldn’t have known,” Hugo whispered. Davenport threw up a hand to silence him.
“She damn well could have. He's been injecting her for God knows how long.” Davenport snarled. “You’ve all lost your minds. Blinded by a Lower Demon that doesn’t even have its own body!”
I recoiled, his words were a physical blow. Sinking down into the chair, I looked at the ground and folded inside my mind, focusing on the tiny place inside my mind that I used to protect myself when people hurt me. Surrounded by walls of solid ice, and beasts as large as skyscrapers, nothing could hurt me there. But somehow, Davenport’s words continued to echo, as if he had wrenched my mind open like an oyster and spat inside of it.
“I can’t believe that I entertained the idea of such a useless, selfish creature, working with us. She has the attention span of a five-year-old.” Davenport ranted. “The Ifrit box was right there. Daniel has a history with the Blood Sidhe. They killed his birth family. They attacked him last year. I should have seen this. Why didn’t I see this?”