Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(23)

“Well, what do we do with her now?” Jerif asks, his tone insinuating that he’s looking at me like something he finds distasteful. It’s still not enough to make me open my eyes though.

“Should we wake her up?” Crux asks in a non-quiet whisper, his arms tightening around me.

Dammit, why does he have to smell so good? I expected he’d have a briney, ocean-kissed scent, but he smells like bright summer days with an undertone of warm campfire nights. Demonic sex cultists should not smell this comforting.

“I don’t actually think she passed out. She’s squinting her eyes too hard for her to be unconscious,” Iceman reveals, his voice sounding closer.

That little tidbit of information causes everyone to go silent, and my body tenses. Fuck you, squinting eyes! Totally blew my cover.

“Delta, can you hear me?” Crux asks, and I can tell he’s leaned closer, because I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. It plays with me in ways that I’m determined to ignore for the moment.

I shake my head no, and someone chuckles. The rumble of it dances around the room, and I find that I want to make them laugh again.

“Open your eyes, Warrior Princess,” Lava-Jerif snarks, his tone making it clear that he doesn’t think I’m a warrior princess at all.

I shake my head again. “Nope, I’m good. Utter blackness is working way better for me than whatever you four have going on. In here...” I say, pointing to my head, “this is all still some innocent pre-Halloween party run by anal special-effects aficionados. I am Xena, and demon porn is not my jam,” I murmur.

Another chuckle rumbles out, this time by Crux. “Up you go, Delta,” he says, lifting me onto my feet so my body is forced to hold my own weight again.

I peel one eye open and then the other, looking around warily. They all back up to give me some space, and I stare at each of them in turn. I mean, I really take them in, trying to see through the assumptions, and reality cuts through my racing thoughts.

Demons.

What if they’re not delusional? What if this isn’t some sex thing?

I shift on my feet, and the stupid leather of my uniform squeaks loudly. I see Echo’s lips twitch, and I send him a scowl. “You don’t get to make fun of the squeak. This is your uniform,” I point out.

I quickly snatch up the scythe from the floor, just in case I need to use it to defend myself. I don’t care that their combined muscles are larger than my debt. I will scythe the shit out of them if they come at me.

“Alright,” I say, tossing my sweaty purple hair away from my face. Useless ponytail. It’s like I didn’t even try to manage my hair. “What the hell is going on?”

“I take it you didn’t know you were a demon?” Iceman asks carefully.

“What do you mean by demon?” I demand. “Costumes? Cosplay? Kink—”

“It’s not kinky sex shit!” Jerif cuts me off with a scowl, his orange eyes blazing hot. “I already told you.”

“Fine,” I shout, feeling completely overwhelmed and at a loss.

He shakes his head, studying me like a bug. “How do you not know?” he asks, baffled.

I don’t like the judgment laced in his tone, and I tighten my hold on the scythe. Crux grimaces. “Please don’t swing that shit at us again,” the surfer demon pleads.

“This is a fucking disaster,” Echo growls at the others before taking a step toward me. “Alright, look, Miss Gates. You’re right. This is some weird ass kinky sex shit, okay? There are no real demons. This was all a misunderstanding. Why don’t you go home to rest and go find a new job better suited to your...delicate needs?”

I narrow my eyes at him and point my scythe in his direction. To my utter delight, he looks nervous about it. “Don’t do that. Don’t trick me into going all weird damsel, oh I must’ve imagined everything I saw mode,” I say in a fake girly voice.

“You swooned,” he drawls as he scratches over the dark tattoos at the back of his neck.

“It was a fake swoon!” I shoot back. “I just needed a fucking pause to take in what happened and try to get you guys to leave me alone!”

“You’re making it worse, you fucking idiot,” Crux mutters at Echo under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up,” Echo snaps at him. “She’s clearly fucking clueless! She wouldn’t last a single night at the Hellgate.”

“But she appears to be an Inner Ring, Echo,” Iceman chides. “Maybe she can’t defend it yet, but just her presence could stabilize it. Do you really want to let her walk away?”

I point at him, interrupting their little argument. “That! That right there. What does Inner Ring mean?” I ask.

To my irritation, they all groan, as if they just found out I don’t know how to do basic shit like wipe my own ass or something.

Instead of answering me, Echo and Iceman-Rafferty go right back to arguing. “She saw all three of us in the graveyard, even though we were warded. She’s not some useless fucking Diluted or Outer Ringer. We could finally manage the Gate with her.”

Jerif shakes his head. “This is a bad idea. Echo’s right; she doesn’t know shit, which pretty much makes her next to useless.”

The quad all share a look before their eyes trail back to me, and they look at me like they’re trying to figure out how to solve a fucking Rubik’s Cube. Which, for the record, I’ve never been able to do.