Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(55)
“Imp,” Crux says into my ear, as if he knew the question was on the tip of my tongue. “She works for us.”
“That’s a she?” I whisper back.
Crux blinks at the creature in the metal boat and cocks his head. “Huh. Actually, I’m not sure, now that you ask.”
Shaking my head with a smile, I watch as Iceman approaches the imp. They talk back and forth in that guttural demonic language of theirs, and then Iceman steps into the boat, followed closely by Jerif and Echo.
“Ready?” Crux asks.
I eye the bobbing boat as it pitches from side to side, and I frown. “Um, actually—”
He doesn’t let me finish my hesitant sentence and, instead, just starts tugging me toward the boat. A boat which is completely flat bottomed, without any sides, and has a huge fan at the back to propel it forward. “Uh, what kind of boat is this?” I ask nervously.
“An airboat,” Crux answers.
“Someone forgot to install sides,” I hiss as he continues to drag me forward. “I don’t think we’re supposed to ride in a boat without any sides. This is just a questionable raft. Are you sure it can hold all of us? I mean, no offense, but you guys look heavy.”
Crux just chuckles, like I’ve said a joke, but when I feel the ground grow spongy, I dig in my heels. The surfer demon doesn’t even falter. He just grips both of my arms, picking me up straight off the ground. He easily steps into the boat while holding me up, and I squeal a bit when it sways as our weight is added to it.
He plops me down next to him, but I quickly scramble away to sit in the tiny middle bench seat to better distribute the weight. I plant the scythe down in front of me like it’s a steadying mast and hold onto it for dear life. The last thing I want is to go tipping over. Also, the middle seat seems the safest in case an alligator comes along to check out a boat with no fucking sides! I mean, we’re practically floating dinner, for fuck’s sake. The guys can deal with that, because no thank you. Those things are just dinosaurs with anger issues, and I don’t want anything to do with them.
“For real, why doesn’t this boat have sides?” I ask the four demons around me, feeling indignant that I’m the only one who seems worried about this.
Iceman takes one look at me and tilts his head. “Um, Maverick, I think it might be best if someone else holds onto your Hell weapon for a bit. I’m a little worried your anxiety is going to get someone stabbed.”
I look from Iceman’s concerned gaze to the white-knuckled hold I have on the black wood and metal stick. Shit. Maybe he’s right. I shakily hand it over, grabbing onto the bench beneath my ass when the boat bobs again.
“It’s fine, Delta,” Iceman assures me, like those words alone will stem the freak out I’m currently having. He sits down and holds the Hell weapon at his side like he really doesn’t want to touch it at all.
The imp does something behind me, and then the huge fan turns on, the motor instantly drowning out the loud ass cicadas.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice pitched high so that I can be heard over the fan. Whatever answer I was going to get is cut off as the imp guns the engine and we start fucking flying down the water.
Completely unprepared for the speed, my body tips forward, and I land head-first in Jerif’s crotch. I would be embarrassed, but I’m too worried about falling into the alligator-infested waters, so when the boat suddenly turns in a fucking ninety-degree angle—I swear, this imp is trying throw one of us out—I just scream and then let myself fall to the floor of the metal boat and grab hold of Jerif’s leg like I’m a tree hugger straddling a redwood. I am not letting his leg go for anything.
Jerif’s fiery eyes blink down at me where I’m clinging to his calf, my hair flying all around me as we speed through the swamp. “Yeah, I know we had a fight,” I snap at him. “But I am not fucking letting go right now, so just deal with it.”
He rolls his eyes, but luckily, my death-grip must deter him from objecting, because he just leaves me be.
“Who knew she’d be afraid of boats,” Echo says conversationally.
“It doesn’t have any sides!” I snap, making him and Crux chuckle.
I swear, all four of them have model hair right now, as the wind blows their strands back from their faces like they’re doing a photoshoot. Mine, on the other hand, is tangling all up in my fucking face, some of it somehow snagging between my teeth like floss.
“Would you like to sit beside me?” Iceman offers, patting the metal bench to his right.
“Nope. Gonna keep holding onto Hot Lava. Because if I go overboard, I won’t feel all that bad about taking him with me.”
Jerif snorts, but otherwise doesn’t reply.
I’m not sure how long the boat ride lasts, but by the time it slows to a stop and I can shove the hair out of my face—and teeth—my fingers are sore from my clawed raptor-hold on Jerif, and I have no doubt that I’ve left very deep fingernail indentations into his smooth black leg.
Standing up, I don’t wait for any of the demons. I practically jump out of the metal raft, landing on a dilapidated wooden dock that has so much green moss growing on it that I can barely see the wood.
The guys disembark behind me, and I look around, noting the sagging wooden building several hundred feet away. There are more docks up and down the swamp with boats parked, and I can hear banjo music coming out of the building that has a tiny neon sign over the door that reads Hairy Dog Tavern.