The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(16)

I danced until I was too tired to worry about the outcomes of all the balls in motion right now, and then I passed out, laying my head as close as possible to the speakers, with Rohan's voice on repeat, a quiet lullaby to send me into dreamland.

Not even a tendril of light slithered through my blinds when I awoke Wednesday morning. I cracked an eye to look at my alarm clock. 5AM. I flipped over, pulling the covers over my head, but sleep was elusive. Truth be told, I was wound tight, caught between nerves and exhilaration for the trip.

Slipping on a robe and socks, I padded into the kitchen for the first of several coffees. I filled my cup, adding copious amounts of milk and sugar.

Rohan was on his way out, airport bound for his earlier flight. He snapped his suitcase zipper into its built-in lock. "You ready? Got your passport? Your Nikki wardrobe?"

Would he go double-check Drio? Oh wait, I knew that answer.

I slammed my cup down, liquid sloshing onto the counter. "Pass. Port. Is what? For big shiny bird in sky?"

Rohan's lips compressed into a thin line. "This isn't a joke. Get focused on this assignment and your role in it."

"Don't worry," I sneered. "I'll be the picture of adoration."

"Yeah, I'm already feeling the love."

I curled my fingers around the mug, the heat from the coffee seeping through the ceramic. Fucking, fleeing, and fighting, oh my. I'd rather have lions, tigers, and bears.

"Have a good flight." That was the second time in as many weeks that I'd uttered that phrase to cut off a loaded conversation with Rohan.

I brushed past him, taking the coffee with me.

The next few hours dragged by. Drio and I were supposed to ride to the airport in style, but since it became apparent there was no way Drio, me, and our luggage would fit into Kane's Porsche, I called Ari and we all crammed into our dad's Prius instead. I made small talk with my brother in the front seat and tried not to think about how much I regretted drinking that third cup. 

This good-bye was far easier than the one my twin and I had said when I'd moved into the chapter house. Still, when we unloaded our luggage in the passenger zone at the Vancouver International Airport, I hugged my brother hard.

"Don't be stupid there." Ari's blue-gray eyes, the only feature my blond twin and I shared, were filled with concern.

"It's not my plan, but you never know."

"I'm serious. Nothing you're doing," he gave me a pointed look indicating he was speaking about Gelman and getting himself Rasha'd up, "is worth you being hurt. Things get hairy, you step away. And by step, I mean run."

I punched him in the arm. "Take your own advice, you hypocrite."

A bleak expression flashed over his face before he rubbed his jaw. "I'm dealing best I can."

My heart shredded into a million pieces at how lost he was. I'd tried yelling, begging, crying –nothing I'd said had stopped Ari. So I'd find Gelman and get the idiot inducted. "Get killed, leave me an only child, and I will find a way to reanimate you, visit humiliation galore upon your zombified corpse, and then kill you again."

That got me a shadow of a grin. I'd take it. One more giant hug for Ari, a smacked kiss on the cheek from Kane, and then it was down to Drio and me wheeling our suitcases into the airport. Being stuck with someone who despised me for the next twelve or so hours as my sole travel companion? Good times.

"I have a very important role for you for the flight over," Drio said as we approached the ticket counter.

Sweet! I cocked my fingers at him like a gun. "You got it. What?"

"Mute." Light glinted off the skull ring on his middle finger, the glamour on his Rasha ring fittingly emblematic of his assholery.

"Look at my face." I waved my hand around it. "Now put all your admittedly limited powers of deduction to the test and tell me if it says ‘sass me.'"

Drio bared his teeth at me, while the airport employee was given our passports with a charming grin that had her touching her hair, flustered.

Even then, I might have tried making conversation with him, because I got bored on flights, but upon checking in, I learned that being Rasha meant traveling business class. Time to milk every perk out of this ticket.

I started in the business class passenger lounge in the airport, an enormous rectangle of a room divided into eating and lounging, with one wall of floor-to-ceiling windows providing a view onto the runways. First stop? The booze, of course. It was free and on tap. I liberally doctored an espresso with Bailey's because even I wasn't going to guzzle vodka before 10AM.

On the job.

Then I pretty much skipped the espresso and kept topping up the Irish cream. I found some ice and a splash of milk, and bam! Daily calcium content dealt with. Two plates of waffles, bacon, and sausage for iron helped soak it all up. I finished with a glass of orange juice to keep the scurvy away. All in all, a damn healthy meal.