Page 17 of Hell’s Weapon

I reach the staff quarters and swipe my pass. It’s going to be a long few months that’s for sure. I’m sure Ninety-Eight is about to make my life all the more difficult.

Kill me now.

Chapter 7

Tacita

Nineteen hesitantly steps into the room and the door closes behind him. I pull the tie out of my hair, the braid beyond saving with how roughed up it got in the shirt fiasco. I ease my fingers through the strands, trying to untangle it.

Fucking-Officer-fucking-Garrick-fucking-Zephyr.

I’m beginning to believe my anger might need to be redirected, however. I thought Garrick had been acting, putting on a stellar performance, because we technically hadn’t ever been alone. But he hadn’t dropped the act as soon as I’d pulled him into my room, and had thrown an absolute shit-fit as I’d tried to remove my top to prove to him I know Hades–that I already work for him–kind of suggests otherwise. I’d only wanted to get my wings out without ruining the only top I’ve been given to wear. I should’ve gone with just my horns, or my tail, but I’d wanted the full effect.

He’d acted like I was trying to molest him or something, not simply show him my wings to prove my demonic nature.

It would be his lucky freaking day if I actually tried to sleep with him. And Hell would be frozen over too. Officer-Dickhead-with-a-superiority-complex needs to chill. He practically booked it out of here with his tail between his legs.

Dammit, Hades.

Had he really not informed the head of this whole thing that he’d have me on the inside? Wouldn’t this go so much smoother, not to mention quicker, if we were working together?

I’d just have to find another way to break it to the Head Officer that one of his competitors was actually already under Hades's employment. Possibly outranking even his top brass ass.

Imagining Garrick’s face when he finds out the Death Bringer is amongst the group he’s currently responsible for makes me burst into laughter.

Nineteen jumps from where he was inspecting the bed opposite and I zip my lips quickly. Even though we’ve not spoken, and only had a couple of weird interactions I’m glad to see he survived the tortuous hike.

“So, I guess we’re roomies then?” I say as a way to break the ice. I may as well get on with the guy seeing as we’re in such close quarters. This shoebox would barely have been big enough to get my wings out. If I’d stretched them out at all they’d definitely hit the walls on either side of the room.

We’ve been given single beds, set up on opposite sides with a low table parting the headboards. A lamp sits on top of it and a rectangular, black framed window frames the middle of that wall. A window I quickly note does not open more than an inch.

At the end of Nineteen’s bed is a small wardrobe. Only one. The dark wood is bolted to the wall with a few brackets. I guess we have to share closet space.

Opposite it, at the end of the bed I’ve seemingly claimed, thanks to Garrick shoving me on to it, is a door to the en-suite. Curious, I get up to investigate. Inside the wardrobe are several new items of clothing. It's a relief to see the garments are black but it looks almost as cheap as the orange we’ve been wearing, and it definitely won’t be tailored.

Switching to the internal door, I nearly groan with the disappointingly functional bathroom. I shouldn’t be shocked as it's in keeping with the rest of the suite but everything is white. The shower looks like it might create drizzle rather than a decent spray and it's not even a bath slash shower combo. It's just a shower tray inside a perspex box.

What I wouldn’t give for a steaming hot bubble bath right now. Especially after the hike over the mountain we’ve had to do.

Turning back to my bed, I realise that Nineteen never responded to me. He’s sitting crossed leg on his mattress, facing me.

I take in his lithe frame, dark hair and dark eyes. The green of them is so dark the inner edges are almost black, bleeding into his irises.

He seems to be eyeing me curiously as I take up a similar position on my bed, although I slouch back against the wall whereas he is hunched over his knees, fiddling with the bandage wrapping around his right wrist and up his forearm.

“How’d you get hurt?” I throw him an easy question, getting the feeling he is either incredibly shy, or incredibly perceptive and wary of the creature he has found himself stuck in a room with. Most humans never feel the power us supernaturals emanate, most supes can’t either, but occasionally there is one who can read energy well enough to tell there is something off when in the presence of power.

If only Garrick had that ability.

His eyes flick up to mine and he licks his lips like he’s about to respond, but no words come. He takes a steadying breath, his Adam's apple bobbing and he tries again, but again he remains silent.

“Wait? Can you not talk?” I say, giving him my full attention now.

He shakes his head, and his shoulders relax a little like he’s glad I’ve figured him out quickly.

“Have you always been mute?” I immediately switch to signing, sitting up so he can clearly see my hands. The question is probably rude but I’m not here to make friends.

Nineteen looks even more confused and blinks rapidly.