Part 12 (1/2)
”Ladies, please.” Gadara shook his head. ”You may save each other's lives one day.”
”How much time do we have to catch the Infernal?” Romeo asked.
”This is not a timed a.s.signment. We will remain at the training site until the Infernal is captured.” Gadara moved over to the nearby tent and picnic table. He set his hands on one of several large coolers resting on the tabletop. ”There are sandwiches and drinks here, if you need them.”
”We should begin now,” Claire said. ”I have no wish to be out here after dark.”
”It's morning,” Izzie drawled. ”There are eight of us. We will not be out here long.”
”Will we be given weapons?” Ken asked.
”To a certain extent.” The archangel swept his hand in a wide swath before him. A tarp covered with various knives and pistols appeared on the ground at his feet. Eve bit back a smile. The twinkle in his eyes told her he was thoroughly enjoying the free use of his celestial gifts.
Ken frowned. ”I dinnae ken.”
”Injuries inflicted with these items are survivable. The bullets are rubber and the knife blades are short to ensure shallow wounds. So whether or not they will be of any use to you remains to be seen.”
”What's the point, then?” Richens muttered. ”A b.l.o.o.d.y mug's game. That's what this is.”
”Rule of engagement number two: this is not a hunt to kill. The Infernals work for me, so refrain from overzealousness. Some of you will strike first and ask questions later. It will take time to learn how to suppress your instincts long enough to use mental reasoning.”
”I thought learning to trust our instincts was the point,” Edwards said.
”When you are frightened and something lunges out at you, what is the usual instinctive response?”
”Fight back,” Izzie said.
”Or run,” Claire offered.
”Correct. But you are marked, Ms. Dubois, and you will not flee. The mark will have filled your veins with adrenaline and you will thirst for blood. And if it was a mortal who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Someone who is as frightened as you and fighting for his life, mistakenly believing you are the enemy? Instincts are blunt instruments; reasoning minds are sharp.”
Silence weighed heavily over the group.
”Any further questions?”
Eve spoke up. ”What would you consider a successful mission?”
The archangel smiled. ”Since the goal of this exercise is discovering that answer for yourselves, telling you would defeat the purpose. I can tell you what I would consider to be failures: the injury of one of you, failure to cooperate among yourselves, or the injury of one of my Infernals. There are more, but those are the outcomes I would find most disturbing.”
Ken rubbed his hands together. ”I'm ready to go.”
”Excellent. Chose your weapons. One per person, please.”
Eve watched the others pick over the selection. Izzie and Romeo both selected knives. Edwards picked a revolver. Molenaar went for a 9mm, as did Laurel after rejecting all of Romeo's varied suggestions. Claire liked the Glock. Ken went with bra.s.s knuckles. Eventually, only Richens and Eve remained. The others moved with Gadara over to the tent area to be outfitted with their armbands.
”I hate this,” Richens muttered. ”Why did I have to get a field a.s.signment? Why didn't they put me to work doing something I'm good at?”
”You're asking the wrong person.” Eve studied what was left to choose from-a couple of knives, a revolver, a 9mm, a telescoping baton, mace, and a taser.
”Take a gun,” she suggested. ”A knife requires proximity.”
”Right, then. You take a knife. If the Infernal gets through you, I'll shoot it.”
Eve glanced aside at him. ”Are you kidding?”
”Hey.” His boyish features took on a sullen cast. ”I'll be a.n.a.lyzing the scene for clues. If you watch my back, we'll get done a lot faster. Brain and brawn, remember?”
”That might work if you knew anything about faeries. Since you don't, you're no better off than me. Is Edwards watching your back, too?”
”Edwards is a pain in the a.r.s.e.”
”Not interested in being a bodyguard, eh?”
”He's still griping about you. He thinks Cain is going to blow his top and kill us if something happens to you.”
Her brows rose. ”What would you guys have to do with anything bad happening to me?”
”My point exactly! If anything, Cain should appreciate that you had colleagues.”
”I'm sure Edwards would have preferred it if Izzie had said yes,” she trawled, ”instead of me.”
”Screw Edwards.” He scowled. ”I'd never work with Seiler.”
”She says differently.”
”She's loony.” Meeting her gaze directly, Richens reiterated. ”I didn't ask her for a d.a.m.n thing. I didn't like her before and I like her even less now, the b.l.o.o.d.y liar.”
”How would she know what you were up to?”
Although she asked the question, Eve found herself believing him. He seemed sincere. Izzie . . . well, she had seemed sincerely insincere, which was honest in its own way.
”Maybe she was in the kitchen when you and I were talking. I don't f.u.c.king know.” He ran a rough hand through his short hair. His hooded sweats.h.i.+rt was black and had ”Killer Rabbit!” screened across the front along with an image of a predatory hare attacking a medieval knight.
Eve's mouth curved.
”What the h.e.l.l is so funny?” Richens snapped, his compact frame vibrating with anger. Her smile faded. She'd forgotten about his quick temper. ”Your s.h.i.+rt.”
Dropping to a crouch, Eve selected the 9mm. She checked the magazine, then straightened and walked away.
”Hollis! Wait.”
But she didn't. She joined the others just as Romeo volunteered to outfit the cla.s.s with the armbands. They had come to McCroskey with a skeleton crew and every Mark was expected to pitch in when he or she could. Romeo's gaze met hers, so dark she could see why Laurel would want to drown in him. ”Come here.”
Eve shoved her gun into her waistband at the small of her back, then shrugged out of her sweater and presented her arm. He attached the band directly over the Mark of Cain and double-checked it for a tight fit. It was slender, maybe a quarter of an inch wide, just enough to cover the eye in the center. The intricate triquetra and circled serpents remained visible.
”How does that feel?” he asked, his voice velvet smooth and seductive.
”Fine.” She looked at him, noting his heavy-lidded stare. Izzie had called him a gigolo and Eve could see how she had come to that p.r.o.nouncement. With his slumberous eyes, fit physique, and accented voice, he fit the ”Italian Stallion” image to perfection. Eve could believe a woman would pay for his s.e.xual favors.
”Flex,” he ordered.