For a Few Demons More(175)
The officer that Edden had pulled from the melee stopped expectantly before us, and Edden drew him close. “Where’s Kalamack? Ms. Morgan needs a room, and I don’t want her anywhere near him.”
I huffed in insult, and the man gave me an apologetic glance. “He’s in five, but three is available,” he said.
“No way,” I said tightly. “I am not getting in a little interview room with Piscary. I want a conference room. Big enough so that I can have a few witnesses.” And kick some vampire ass if I need to.
Edden crossed his arms over his chest to turn immovable. “Witnesses?”
“Witnesses.” I gripped the focus tighter. This wouldn’t work unless everyone knew I didn’t have it anymore. “I want Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong.” I turned to look over the open offices, each one occupied with a belligerent Inderlander and one or two nervous but doggedly determined FIB officers. “Quen,” I said, finding him standing alone and on the phone as if none of this was touching him. “And Al,” I finished, finding the demon flirting with the receptionist, now glowing from the attention of someone she thought was a wealthy eligible bachelor in a tux. Ellasbeth’s dad was behind him, the upright man looking like he was ready to whip out his checkbook right here if it would help get his daughter married.
“Al?” Edden said, following my gaze to his receptionist, handing her phone number to the smiling man. “That’s Mr. Saladan. Piscary said he exorcised the demon from him. My people have seen him in the sun.”
I shook my head, feeling Al’s gaze on me. “Piscary’s lying. That’s still Al.”
The FIB officer with the clipboard paled. “That’s a demon?” he squeaked.
Edden’s brow furrowed. Putting a thick hand on each of our shoulders, he turned our backs to the room, all the while scanning the surrounding people to decide if they had heard him. “Rachel,” he said, voice hushed but intent, “I’m not set up to deal with this situation.”
His hand was warm through the lace on my shoulder, and I shivered. “Neither am I, but here I am. I can do this, Edden. I just need a quiet room. Your people don’t have to do anything. No one’s going to get hurt.” But I couldn’t promise it.
He was silent in thought. Deep concern in his gaze, he looked at the package in my hands, then turned to the officer with us. “How messy is Camelot?”
Camelot? I mused, and the man in question fidgeted. I could smell his fear on him, and Piscary was watching him. “It’s full of mailings,” the officer said. “June’s newsletters still have to go out.”
Edden’s frown deepened. “It’s the only room with a two-way that will hold all of them.”
“Two-way!” I scoffed. “I want a room, not an FIB audience.”
“I’m not going to let you go into a room alone with those people,” Edden said. “You put me here, Morgan, and you’re going to do it my way.”
Jenks stifled a snicker, and I cocked my hip, copping an attitude in black lace and butt-kicking boots. “Whatever,” I said, knowing I was at his mercy.
Satisfied, Edden drew the FIB officer even closer. “Grab a couple of guys and get the table cleared off. And have someone get Ms. Morgan’s wish list in there.”
My neck grew cold as Jenks took flight. “I’ll get them,” he offered, and the FIB officer looked relieved. Edden started to protest, but upon seeing Jenks already fronting the two Weres, he hesitated. Piscary was next, falling into step behind them. From his corner, Quen closed his phone and rocked forward before Jenks reached him, giving the pixy a nod. Al noticed the mass exodus and joined them, kissing the receptionist’s hand in farewell.
“Damn,” Edden swore softly, taking my elbow and angling us to the top of the hallway ahead of them. “I need to get me a pixy on the payroll.”
I couldn’t help my smile. “They’re expensive,” I warned him.
The comforting blank walls took us in, and the noise behind us dulled. “I thought they worked for sugar water and nectar,” Edden said, and I slowed as I noticed we were passing interrogation rooms.
“I meant in terms of loyalty,” I clarified, pulling him to a stop when I found Trent’s room. A soft murmur came from behind the door, and when he saw my expression, Edden’s face went hard. There was one more person I wanted to be present. Quen wasn’t enough. I wanted Trent.
“No,” Edden said, clearly knowing why I’d stopped, then pressed back against the walls as the Weres, Al, Quen, and Piscary all passed before us in silent expectation. Mrs. Sarong’s heels clicked smartly, and Al gave me an amused grin over his smoked glasses. Quen was silent, his shoulders tense under the expensive fabric of his tux. Jenks was with them, and I gave him a nod as he went along to serve as my ears.