Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(22)
I’m on the verge of shouting out no butt stuff, but I’m into that when the circumstances are right, so that feels dishonest. Besides, I’m not going to announce what I will and won’t do before we negotiate the money side of things. I guess that answers the am I really going to do this question that I was pretending to debate about. I hit rock bottom so damn fast.
“Definitely,” Echo agrees. “I mean, the scythe alone screams I am ūnus, hear me roar. Bunch of arrogant pricks.”
“Hey,” Iceman and I object at the same time, but my, “Don’t knock it until you try it,” seems to leave everyone looking even more confused. So much for keeping my cards close to the vest.
“This is not a sexual proposition,” Iceman-Rafferty declares incredulously.
“Speak for yourself, Raf, I’ve been hard since she Xena-screamed her way into the mausoleum,” Echo announces as he overtly adjusts himself.
Do not look at his crotch, Delta. Do. Not. Look. At. His. Crotch.
Iceman shoots him a glare that screams shut the fuck up, but Echo just winks at him and shoots him an air kiss.
“I don’t know...” Crux declares, his head tilted and his green eyes studying me carefully. “She could be a Nihil.” Suddenly, the bickering murmur and teasing comes to a complete stop, and everyone turns to Crux. “She looks human and can see through wards—”
“So can you,” Jerif interrupts, “and you’re only a Trēs.”
“Yeah, but who else can activate a scythe?” Crux counters. “I mean, think about it, when was the last time you even saw a demon, other than a Grim, carrying one?”
My bosses seem to consider this ridiculous question, and each of their weighted gazes land on me. I’m too fucking busy tossing words like looks human and demon around in my mind and trying to figure out how they make sense in the context of any kind of rational conversation, but they don’t. I’m so lost in this discussion I couldn’t even find my way out with a map.
“Demon?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “You mean you want me to dress up as a demon for the costume sex party?”
The four of them exchange a look until Iceman glances back at me with a frown. “Miss Gates, there is no costume sex party—
“Yet,” Echo interrupts.
Iceman shoots him another look and then continues. “Wait...you do know about demons...right?”
Now it’s my turn to frown. What the fuck is he talking about? “Um…”
Crux’s mouth drops open as he looks at me. “No way,” he declares, running a hand down his face before turning to the others. “She doesn’t know.”
“How is that possible?” Echo asks, his eyes narrowed on me like he’s suddenly trying to catch me in a lie I haven’t even voiced.
“Miss Gates,” Iceman begins carefully, his icy blue eyes watching me. “You’re a demon. And a powerful one at that. You do know this, don’t you?”
I open my mouth, but Jerif cuts me off before I can speak. “And no, before you say it, this isn’t some weird, kinky sex term,” he says with irritation.
My mouth clamps shut. Okay...I am in way over my head here.
So I do what any sane woman would do when someone tells you you’re a demon. I faint.
6
I don’t actually faint. Mostly because I have no idea how to do that on cue, but I do slump over in my chair and try to make my eyes roll to the back of my head before dramatically falling down.
The way I see it, I have very few options here. There’s one of me and four of them. I could try to fight them, I guess, but even with my scary Swiss Army walking stick, I don’t think I could take them. So really, the only thing I can do is get the fuck out of here. Nothing clears the room like a fainting female. I expect that the guys will freak out and scatter, and I can make my great escape.
I go down like some Gone with the Wind reject, and I give no fucks about how melodramatic it looks, because hello, I’ve stumbled onto some satanic sex cult, and I haven’t the slightest clue how else I’m going to get myself out of this other than to run.
If I were a smarter fake-fainter, I would’ve leaned back in the chair. But because I’ve never tried this trick before, I tip forward where I’m almost guaranteed to smash my face on something before I go all the way down. But there’s no going back now. Literally. So I just have to go with it.
Someone catches me though, which under other circumstances, I would be grateful for, but now all I can think is that some mentally unhinged sex cult member is holding me in his arms, and there’s no chance in hell that’s a good thing. Besides, I want him to put me down so I can run away. This plan doesn’t work if I’m going to be clutched like a baby bird who fell out of its nest. Let me fly free, fucker.
“What in Hell’s Center just happened?” Iceman-Rafferty asks.
“I think she...fainted?” Crux supplies, and I realize that the surfer dude is the one who caught me.
“Huh. I thought Inner Ringed demons were made of more grit and fortitude. She just wilted like some useless flower,” Echo says.
I bristle a little. Flowers aren’t useless. And if they could just leave me the fuck alone for five minutes, I could show his ass just how much grit and fortitude I have by scaling this stupid fucking mansion and escaping.