Hell, at this point, the list of who wouldn’t write this was shorter than the list of who would.
Frustrated, I shoved the paper back into the envelope and slid the whole thing into my desk drawer. After I’d stashed the textbook Kinrade had given me, I headed for the door, stomach growling. If I missed lunch, whoever wrote that note was going to wish they hadn’t made me hangry.
Just before the dining hall, I spotted Starla coming toward me.
“Gem. There you are. I was beginning to worry.”
“I had to put away a textbook.”
“Would you mind taking a walk with me?”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great.”
She ushered me aside so a couple of recruits could pass us. She lowered her voice and said, “There was a small hiccup at the main entrance of the Tiff just now, and I wanted to check in with you about it.”
“What kind of hiccup?” I asked, inching even farther from listening ears.
“That depends. Are you acquainted with a warlock who called himself Z?”
For once, I was glad for the magic stripping that meant supes couldn’t hear us from miles off.
“I’m . . . acquainted, yes.”
“I see. Well, apparently he was worried when you didn’t return his phone calls. He used a locator spell to track you here and was found trying to spell his way past security.”
My jaw dropped.
“That twatwaffle.”
Starla blinked. “Is that your official response?”
“My . . . No. Sorry.” Clearly, I’d been hanging with Gran too long. “Look, I spoke with Z before reporting in and made it clear he wouldn’t be hearing from me for a while.”
“And did you tell him where you’d be?”
“No way. I didn’t have a location to give him anyway.”
“Does he know you work for the SSF?”
“No,” I said firmly. “Hell, he probably wouldn’t believe me if I’d told him.”
“I see. That’s all I needed to know.”
She moved to step around me.
“Wait. Is he in trouble?”
She tilted her head. “Do you want him to be?”
I frowned, trying to decide. “He’s an idiot, but he’s not a criminal,” I said finally.
She nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
She strode off with a purposeful march, leaving me to wonder what exactly would become of my ex. And whether I’d become an accessory if I ever asked.
Chapter Eight
Lunch was surprisingly good. I inhaled a quinoa salad and two pieces of chocolate cake that made me moan out loud until several of the other recruits began to stare. I caught a red-headed male watching me and paused, my fork hallway to my mouth. He winked at the same time Milo elbowed me.
“You might want to save your performance for a more private audience, superstar.”
“It’s so damn good,” I said around a mouthful of baked sugary goodness.
Milo chuckled. “That’s what she said.”
Tony snickered, and Fiona flushed.
“No sex talk while I’m eating chocolate,” I said.
“Why does that matter?” Tony asked.
“It feels like cheating,” I told him as I polished off the last of it.
Fiona giggled.
I turned to the buffet line, eyeing the choices and debating on seconds.
“If you’re still hungry, you can have the rest of my Rueben,” Fiona offered, holding it out.
I shuddered.
“No thanks. I don’t eat anything held together by bread.”
“Why not?” Tony asked.
“Long story,” I grumbled.
“Well, I don’t discriminate,” Tony said, taking the sandwich for himself.
“You’re like a vacuum,” Milo told him as he practically inhaled what was left.
“State Fair hot dog eating champ four years in a row,” Tony said, his voice muffled around the food.
“Ohh, we have a champion in our mix,” I said with a laugh.
“Two.” Milo nudged my shoulder.
I shot him a look.
“Gem is the reigning queen of the strip down at the docks.”
Tony eyed me with new interest—and respect. “You drive?”
“Drive?” Fiona repeated, clearly confused.
“Drag racing,” Tony explained.
“Oh.” Her eyes lit. “Wow. Congrats.”
I scowled at them all. “Lower your voices. You want it getting around I’m part of an illegal racing club?”
I shot a look toward the dining hall doors but none of the professors were in sight. Other than kitchen staff restocking the buffets, we were pretty much left alone.
“What club?” Tony asked in a low voice.
I bit my lip. “Clutch.”
Tony’s eyes widened. “Clutch is the number one racing club in the state. What’s your handle?”
“Hawk.”
Tony whistled. “No shit. I’ve heard of you.”
“Told you our girl is famous,” Milo said.
“How do you even know about that?” I asked.
He tapped his temple. “It’s a gift.”
I shook my head. “Well, keep your gift quiet around here. The Tiff doesn’t know about my past career, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Milo muttered something about secrets being a pain in the ass, and we all went back to eating.
After lunch, Tony headed off to History and Heritage while Milo, Fiona, and I made our way to Demon Tracking. The zip of my magic returning hit me unexpectedly as I walked in.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the buzz of my own power rippled through me.
“There’s only one feeling better, am I right?”
I looked over and frowned at the man who’d spoken.
He wore a collared shirt with the SSF logo emblazoned on the lapel, and that alone had me biting my tongue to keep from snapping a comeback. He smirked, as if he knew he’d just baited me into a losing battle.
With a raking gaze, he scanned the length of me. A second later, coyote pheromones hit me hard enough to make my eyes water. Then his gaze shifted to Fiona, and the scent only intensified.
I grabbed Milo’s arm for support and let him lead me to a seat. Fiona trailed behind, and I grabbed her sleeve, pulling her toward the seat between us.
“What are you—?” she began.
“Just sit. Don’t make eye contact and don’t raise your hand,” I told her.
She nodded and ducked her head, no questions asked.
Over her head, Milo waved a hand in front of his nose. I couldn’t blame him. If the smell was any indication, everything I’d heard about Rodrigo Garcia was true.
“Good afternoon, recruits. I’m Professor Garcia.” The professor’s eyes landed on a female in the front row. “You can call me Rodrigo. Or just Rigo, if you prefer. In this class, you’ll learn everything you need to know about tracking and killing demons.”
Someone slid into the chair next to mine.
“Hey,” a voice whispered.
I looked over at the redheaded male from lunch. His features were handsome, and his smile was friendly.
“Hey.”
More importantly, he didn’t automatically start trying to mind-screw me. His fox shifter scent was a welcome distraction from Rigo’s stench. I leaned in closer to inhale more of it. Anything to overpower that.
“I’m Cliff.”
“Gem.”
“Did I miss anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, we—”
Something hard rapped against my desk.
I jumped and looked up at Rigo standing over us, some sort of wooden baton clutched in his thick hand. One end had been whittled down to a sharpened point. The blunt end rested on my desk.
“This guy bothering you?” Rigo asked me.
“No.”
Rigo stared at Cliff. “See that you mind yourself around the fem
ales,” he said finally. “Would hate to see you dismissed because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
I blinked.
Rigo shot me a smile, and my stomach churned.
“Sir, I was just—” Cliff began.
“Put a sock in it, recruit. We’ve got demons to kill.” Rigo walked to the front of the room and caught the eye of a witch in the front row. “Lots of adrenaline and hormones to deal with in the field.”
He winked.
She frowned.
I bit my tongue.
It was going to be a long three months.
The first week of training passed in a blur of physical exhaustion. Between the grueling demands of my workouts and the late-night reading I did to keep up with the written work, I was a walking zombie. Magic helped to wake me up, but that only happened during the demon-hunting sessions inside the arena. Everywhere else, magic was stripped, and I was forced to admit how much I’d relied on my fae gifts in the past.
Fiona, Tony, and Milo quickly became my tribe despite my promise to myself about not getting too close to anyone. It didn’t take long for Milo’s jokes, Fiona’s sweetness, and Tony’s laid-back attitude to become something I depended on to get through the rest of it.
Not all of the students were here to socialize and not all of them were thrilled about competing against a legacy. I kept my head down and my homework done, and after a few days, the worst of the comments tapered off. I suspected everyone was too damn tired to keep up their bullying.
Seven days a week, we did cardio. Four of the seven also included strength and resistance training. No magic. No supe skills to help us power through.
By the end of the following Monday, every one of our foursome was bleary-eyed and quiet over dinner. The rest of the dining hall was similarly subdued.
When I’d nearly finished my food, Fiona and Tony made an excuse about a study date and slipped away together.
“So much for that idea,” Milo muttered, watching them go.
I didn’t ask what he meant by it. I’d already seen enough of his longing glances aimed at Tony to know. I’d also seen Fiona’s stolen looks become aimed less at Milo and more at Tony. But I hadn’t mentioned that to either of them.
After hearing about Z’s desperate attempt to breach the Tiff last week, I was feeling pretty done with all relationships—and that included playing matchmaker with my friends.
“Plenty of other fish,” I told him instead, but he didn’t answer.
“Hey, Gem.”
I looked up at the fox shifter from my demon-hunting class.
“Hey,” I said. “Cliff, right?”
“Yeah.” He flashed a tentative smile. I decided he was cute in a boyish sort of way. Not enough to make me rethink my current vow of celibacy though. “Listen, a few of us are headed up to the hot tub after dinner to soak off some of the soreness. Want to come?”
“There’s a hot tub?” Milo demanded, dropping his fork onto his tray. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“It’s only accessible to senior recruits.” Cliff leaned forward and lowered his voice. “My roomie gave me the code before he tested out last week.”
I hesitated. I already had a few instructors riding my ass for being a legacy. Trouble wasn’t something I could afford, and I had miles to go before I’d be considered a senior recruit.
“Sounds like a party,” Milo said, smiling up at Cliff a little dreamily.
We really needed to talk about his flirting issues.
“Great. See you at eight,” Cliff said, still looking at me as he strode away.
“Score,” Milo said when he was gone. “We get a soak and a chance to befriend some new eye candy.”
“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”
I rose, tray in hand, and headed for the trash.
“Whoa.” Milo jumped up and followed me. “What do you mean? You’re not coming with?”
“Can’t.” I dumped my tray and started for the exit. “I have a mountain of reading to do before tomorrow’s evidence procedures lecture.”
Milo tossed his entire tray into the trash and hurried to catch up. I decided not to point out he was supposed to return the tray itself.
“Uh, uno problemo, lover. Cliff was inviting you. I’m clearly your plus one here. Which means without you, I’m minus two.”
I shot him a look. “That doesn’t even make mathematical sense.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” he asked haughtily.
I groaned.
“Come on, Gem. I need cheering up,” he said, pouting. “Tony is into Fiona, and I’m lonely, so lonely—”
He started singing the words, and I caved. “Fine.” I held up a hand. “I’ll go.”
“Really?” The pouting evaporated, replaced by excitement.
I’d been totally played.
“For one hour. That’ll get you in, as you say, and after that, you do what you want.”
“Deal.” He beamed at me then flounced down the hall toward his room. “I need to go pick out which swimsuit I’m wearing. See you soon.”
I shook my head and returned to my room, already regretting my decision.
At seven fifty, I was halfway into my suit when someone knocked. Milo poked his head in without waiting, and I scowled at him as I pulled the straps up over my shoulders.
“You’re supposed to wait for me to say come in.”
“And you’re supposed to own a hotter swimsuit but here we are. Where did you get that unfortunate one-piece anyway, your grandmother?”
“I swam in high school. It’s the only one I have.”
“Your high school hated you.”
I gave him the finger.
“Maybe just . . .” He reached over and began arranging my hair. “There. Now, no one will look at your suit.”
I batted him away. “Thanks. I was really worried.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, completely ignoring my sarcasm. “Ready?”
“Let’s get this over with.”
I led the way out, and we headed down the hall that would take us to the stairwell.
“You’re a bucket of sunshine tonight,” Milo said as we walked. “Did something happen?”
“Just the usual. No energy. No magic to help me ace this stuff. And no time to do anything about either one.”
And still no idea who’d sent my mysterious letter.
“Sounds like what you need is to unwind.” He pushed open the stairwell door, ushering me through. “Allow me.”
I smirked. “Such a gentleman.”
“Make sure to tell Cliff that, won’t you?” He winked, and we climbed the stairs to the upper landing.
As we got close, I heard hushed voices.
At the top, Cliff and a half dozen other recruits stood huddled near a door with a keypad.
“Gem, glad you made it.” Cliff glanced at Milo, who nudged me.
“This is Milo,” I said.
“Hi.” Milo shook Cliff’s hand, lingering a little too long.
I rolled my eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Cliff said. “This is Leedle.”
“Gem!” She high fived me.
“You two already know each other?” Cliff asked.
“We have Weapons Training together,” I explained.
“Cool. This is Violet, Nate, Morgan, and Dutch.”
“Hey,” they all said.
I recognized Dutch from PT, but the others were unfamiliar.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a small wave.
Milo offered a charming smile, and then Cliff motioned for everyone to gather around the door.
“All right, let’s go soak these sore muscles.”
He input a series of numbers and the keypad beeped. He pulled the door open, and the others cheered.
“Ssh,” Cliff said, and we all filed outside behind him.
The night air was crisp; chilled but not cold. I was glad for my one-piece.
“Perfect hot tub weather,�
�� Milo said, inhaling appreciatively.
I followed the others past an outdoor shower area and over to the far side of the roof where the hot tub was set up. From here, I could see the running track where I spent most mornings now. Just looking at the damned thing made my muscles hurt all over again.
“Water’s perfect,” Cliff said, easing in.
“This feels heavenly,” Violet said. Her black hair was streaked with purple highlights that matched the shimmering highlights in her wings.
The others didn’t waste time stripping down and stepping in, spreading out along the bench seating.
“You coming in?” Cliff asked me.
I peeled off my shirt and leggings and stepped into the heated water. My relief was instant.
I groaned as I slid lower. “Demon balls, that feels good.”
Leedle snorted. “Preach.”
“These workouts are hell,” Cliff agreed.
“I’ll take a workout over Rigo the Ego any day,” Milo said.
Leedle snorted. “That is the perfect nickname for him.”
“Well, perv would have been better, but it doesn’t rhyme as well,” Nate said.
Everyone agreed.
“Try pissing off Gorser the Enforcer,” Cliff said with a grimace.
“Nicknames are contagious in this place,” Milo said.
“Gorser. He’s the Protocol and Procedures guy, right?” I asked.
Cliff nodded. “I have him for morning PT as well, and that guy loves burpees and suicides in a way that is not healthy.”
Morgan and Nate muttered an agreement.
“Who do you have for PT?” Nate asked.
“Landis,” I said, and Cliff groaned.
“She’s so much easier.”
“If someone could tell my thigh muscles that, I’d appreciate it,” I said.
Milo smirked.
“Or Cliff could just massage those thighs instead.”
I shot Milo a look. “I just thought of another nickname. Milo the Murdered.”
His smirk vanished.
Leedle laughed, and Nate splashed her.
After that, the conversation veered off toward parties and pizza and all the things we were missing by being locked away in here.
I gave Milo the hour I’d promised and then eased out of the tub. Grabbing my shirt, I used it as a towel before pulling it back on.
Kiss of Death (Supernatural Security Force Book 1) Page 7
