The woman looked down at the mound of jalapenos in my omelet. She directed me to the condiment table without a word.
“Like it hot, do you?” Remi nudged his shoulder into mine. I lost my balance and quickly salvaged my tray before it spilled.
“If I were trapped on a desert island, it would be the one thing I would take,” I said as I grabbed the bottle and rested it on the edge of my tray. Hot sauce was the one thing I missed the most when I was incorporeal. That and legs.
Remi scanned the mess hall for somewhere to sit. “I’d take a boat. So I could sail home.”
“That’s cheating.” I scrunched my nose.
Remi spotted someone he knew and waved before heading to the other side of the dining room. I followed on his heels like an obedient dog. Remi led us to a table in the corner.
“Hey, Hugo,” I said brightly as I put my tray down and slid into my chair. “How're tricks?”
The incubus squinted, and it took a second for me to remember that Hugo knew Frankie from before and would likely spot a change in behavior.
I dove deep into her memory and straightened my spine, relaxing my expression into a 'resting bitch face.' Hugo gave me a tiny smile before he ducked back behind his floppy fringe to hide his eyes. It was exhausting to pretend to be someone that I was not.
Remi eyed me with suspicion. “Do you have a belly ache or something?”
I elbowed him in the stomach. “Shut. Up.”
Remi introduced himself to Hugo; soon, they began to talk about an event in London that Remi had done damage control for. I zoned out when they started to describe the various Demons they had seen. Remi chugged a bottle of blue Gatorade. It looked unnaturally luminous.
Raucous laughter caught my attention; I scanned the surrounding tables. A beautiful woman with deep mahogany ringlets caught my eye and scowled before turning back to the group. She said something to the woman next to her, and I got the impression that whatever it was she had said had been about me.
I turned my attention back to Remi and Hugo.
“And then the leader of the Labour party was attacked by a Shax Demon!” Remi exclaimed, stabbing a sausage link before stuffing it into his mouth whole.
“Labour party?” Hugo's brow furrowed.
“Like your Democrats.” Remi supplied once he had swallowed his mouthful of food. “Anyway, Shax Demons only feed on discarded Leviathan skins...”
Hugo gasped. “No!”
Remi nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. The next Prime Minister was a Demon. A Leviathan.”
I snorted and unscrewed the cap to my apple juice, downing half in one swallow. “What’s the big deal?”
Remi's gaze shifted from Hugo's to mine.
“He’s dead now. It was in the news.” I shrugged and tipped almost the entire bottle of hot sauce onto my eggs.
I was always sad when a Demon died, but the Prime Minister had been a dick. He'd made a deal with the Devil and paid the price.
I eyed Hugo for a second. Wondering how I could bring up his demonic leanings in conversation. I swished my clean fork on the air and licked my bottom lip to try and taste the Sin. Lust. Incubus. Maybe a half-human—a Cambion.
I turned my full attention back to my meal. Famished in a way that I had never experienced before.
Someone walked behind me and bashed into my chair. It skidded forward and jostled the table. I managed to catch my open bottle of Snapple before it spilled all over my food.
I looked up just in time to see a swishing cloud of dark ringlets retreat away from the table. The staring woman from earlier.
“Who’s that?” I asked. Too lazy to search my mental directory.
Remi turned to Hugo, his gaze questioning.
Hugo Sinclair fiddled with his fork before delicately placing it on his tray so that it lined up with the rest of his cutlery. “That’s Riley Fisher.” He dropped his gaze. “She was Hambone's girlfriend.” His tone was delicate. Quiet but full of censure as if I should know who she was.
I regretted not taking the time to find out. The vague memory of the bloodbath that led to my host being unplugged rushed through my head.
Hambone had been one of Frankie's squad. One of the seven that had died. Harvey Hammond, aka Hambone.
Obviously, Riley Fisher had an issue with the fact that I was alive, and her beau was not.
I watched as she bussed her tray and waved at Doctor Daniel as she left the Mess Hall. At least her grudge didn’t extend to other members of Frankie's family.
“Come on,” Remi said, standing up. “We’ve got to meet War in the surveillance room.”
“War?” My nose scrunched in confusion.
“Warren Davenport.” Hugo supplied helpfully. “He goes by War sometimes. It’s a nickname.”
“Like Maverick and Goose?” I asked excitedly.
Remi snorted. “Something like that.”
Before long, Remington Weber and I began to the short walk to another one of the grey Lego block buildings between the trees. I reached down to grab one of the orange leaves that had fallen on the floor.
All of the foliage in Hell was warped in some way. Burnt. Frozen. Dead. I had never seen a fallen autumn leaf. I tried to keep my amazement to myself as I turned the fragile thing over in my fingers.
“You must know Davenport well if you use his nickname,” I said, distracted by the veins in the leaf.
Remi nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His breath fogged on the cold air.
“We hunted together in London.” He offered no more information, but I didn’t press.
The surveillance building was off the beaten track; we had passed no one on the way down the path.
A shard of fear sliced through my chest and cracked my ribs. I cupped my throat as if my hand could protect me from my vulnerabilities. I'd just met Remi, and I liked him, but I didn’t know if all of this was an elaborate plan to get me alone so he could kill me.
Remi grabbed my wrist, and I jerked backward. My arms pinwheeled, and my cheeks flushed as I pulled away.
“Jesus.” He muttered. “Are you okay?”
“You scared me.”
“I need your hand for the scanner.” He jerked his finger over his shoulder to point to the electronic pad by the door.
I nodded shakily and ducked around him to the room.
Remi did not touch me, but he came up to my shoulder.
“Are you okay, Frankie?”
I nodded jerkily. Remi studied my face for a prolonged second, and when he was satisfied, he nodded to himself. The spell was broken. We both walked into the quiet building together.
I followed Remi, who looked thoughtful rather than the mischievous puppy that I had come to see in the short time we had known each other.
I said nothing. Unable to decide if I had been foolish or prudent to expect an attack.
We found surveillance room three with little hassle. Commander Davenport was watching something on the screen, standing at the desk with both hands on his hips and his legs squared.
Dude seriously needed to relax.
Warren Davenport clicked something on his tablet before he handed it to Remi. I craned my neck to watch the screen.
It was the CCTV of a warehouse. Concrete floors, metal railings, and piled boxes.
“This is the video of the attack.” Davenport glanced at Remi, though his words were for my benefit as well. “See if you can spot anything before the video cuts out.”
Frankie Gardiner strode in first, a large duffle bag in her hands. She sprang up the stairs away from the squad, presumably to find higher ground so she could scope her target.
A group of Hunters, dressed in black with most of their faces covered, crept forward in formation. Two at the front. Two at the side, and three at the back. With Frankie, that made eight total.