Page 70 of The Hitch
"One of their minions, Detective Ella—" Roman butts in again. "—she threatened, she said—"
"They have wings everywhere," I finish for him.
"It's true," The Paimon interjects. "I found evidence of Seraph involvement when hacking into a gas station security system."
"Confirmed, as well," the Eligos stands with a nod. "We strongly believe the Seraph is behind the murder of Valencia Gallo, The Dantalion's business manager."
Everyone talks at once. I can't make out a word as arguments overlap with support. Rage builds in my chest as I focus on The Belial in his immaculate suit. He purses his lips thoughtfully, leaning to the side while his assistant whispers in his ear.
"Is that not enough for you?" I yell again. "Not only my suspicions, my confirmed evidence, but The Paimon! The Eligos! Valencia's murder! That's not enough for you fucks?"
"Silence!" The Belial stands with a shout and knocks his gold-tipped cane on the floor. "A gas station security system. Your wife is missing. Your business manager is dead. This points to a war onyou, Dantalion."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Roman grumbles under his breath. Unfortunately, I think the mic picked it up, because a wave of snickers and gasps sweeps through the auditorium.
"I'm not finished." The Belial glares at my faithful assistant before continuing. "Thisdoespoint to a war on you. But if we let one fall, we show the Seraph thatanyof us can fall. Now, who is this Detective Ella?"
"I'll take that, sir." Roman nods, and I back away from the mic. "Detective Rafaella Angelo appears to be a mid-ranking Seraph operative. She is a decorated member of the police, working on high-profile murders and gang-related activity. She had a run-in with Mrs. Lyons—the current Dantalion's wife, not his mother—several months ago and recently visited their residence. She inferred that she knew of Mrs. Lyons's past and insinuated that she may be paranoid. She also mentioned that they, quote, 'have wings everywhere.'"
I watch Roman in awe as he fields tactical questions and provides suggestions on operative plans. Looking to the side of the stage, I see a staffer gesturing to a folding chair. Gratefully, I trudge over and plop into it with a heavy sigh. I wasn't expecting much of a fight, considering the evidence and involvement from The Eligos and The Paimon, but recounting the story was more exhausting than I thought it would be.
And I still don't have my wife, but I do have the entire Goetic Consortium on my side. Thank fuck for that.
Melody
Six days. I think we've been here six days, if they're feeding us twice a day. Helena looks hollow and exhausted. I mean, of course she is—she's still trying to protect me. Even in here. Even in this godforsaken basement where we have to share a bucket as a toilet.
Ella hasn't reared her bitchy head since she got my confession. No, she sends some snot-nosed little rat to give us just enough food to keep us alive. Unfortunately for him, the clawing in theback of my skull is returning with fervor, and Ireallywant to know what his guts look like.
I think Helena can tell, too, because she keeps looking nervously between the two of us when he's in the room. Sorry, honey, I don't especially care. And based on the way my stomach is starting to growl, I think he's due to arrive any minute now.
"What are you doing?" Helena whispers as I pace the six-foot by six-foot cage.
"Walking. I gotta get out of here, Helena. We need to get out of here. And I think short, pale, and greasy might be our ticket out." I smile at her, but I can feel that it's… off. It's not as reassuring as I want it to be. No, I can feel my face contort into a manic grin as I clench and unclench my fists.
I want to scare him. I want to kill him. I want to rip out his throat with my claws—I found out that concrete walls work to sharpen fingernails in a pinch. Well, acrylics. Not my real nails. God, I need a refill on these, but that's not likely to happen. A deranged giggle bubbles up out of me, and I freeze.
"Melody, honey, you're scaring me a little bit." Helena backs away from me in her cage.
"I'd never hurt you, babes. And, as I said, I will never implicate you inanymurders. So, why don't you just sit tight and face away from me, huh?" I smile again, and she visibly pales.
"Sure, sure. Um. Yeah, okay." She follows my suggestion and faces the wall, daring peeks back at me every few seconds or so.
It's really been too long since I let out my violent side. Maybe I'm getting rusty. Maybe this is exactly what I need. I let out another laugh, but the steel door at the top of the stairs creaks open. Showtime.
"Dinner's here," the nasty little prick announces as he trudges down the steps. I take in the full view of him carrying two plates. His greasy brown hair is slicked back and stringy, while hisforehead shines in the fluorescent lights. Stains of questionable origin mar the ratty T-shirt he always wears.
Honestly, where did Ella find this dickhead? Is he her unemployed nephew or something? Oh well, rest in pieces. I reach my hand through the bars and curl my finger towards him. "Come here, sweet pea."
"Uhh… okay? I was gonna, 'cause you need your… plate…." He shuffles over to me with distrustful eyes.
"Oh, I need more than that. Why don't you join me for a spell?" I toss my hair back and try to dazzle him with my smile. "It's solonelyin here."
"What? But—Ella said not to?" He sounds so unsure, like he's asking me a question.
"Ella's not here, is she?" I giggle and exaggeratedly look him up and down. "She doesn't have to know."
"What about her?" He tilts his head towards Helena, who stifles a whimper.
