Page 11 of Ashes and Lilies
Nothing could have preparedme for the scene that Damen unhurriedly led me into. Instead of chaos and worry, the atmosphere was light. Every officer present, except the one who’d thought to seek Damen’s help—Jamie, if I recalled his name correctly—was behaving unprofessionally.
An unconscious man lounged in an uncomfortable-looking position on Mr. Weaver’s green couch while Jamie stood close to his head. The nervous man glared at the other four officers—men who had gathered around Mr. Weaver’s dining room table and were giggling at their fallen comrade while they partook in Mr. Weaver’s prized Rocky Road ice cream and other various goods.
“Stop laughing, you nitwits!” Jamie scowled at them. He was clearly the only normal one in the group. “And stop raiding the kitchen; you’re eating the evidence! Hasn’t anyone done their assignments?”
I hadn’t paid much attention to the officers upon our arrival—Damen’s flirting had done a thorough job of distractingme—but now that I was, I couldn’t help but notice that there was something off about this group.
The air was familiar yet different. The men held a similar energy to Titus. My skin tingled with uneasiness. I stepped closer to Damen, who, in turn, was watching the scene in vague curiosity.
Whereas before, I hadn’t been very concerned about the people around us, I was now less confident.
Were these even real policemen?
They’d noticed my arrival, too—they were throwing curious glances in my direction.
What was it about their eyes that brought back memories? Damen’s impassiveness slipped. He grasped my hand and squeezed it gently. My rising unease lessened, and the urge to hide faded. No words needed to be spoken. He was with me.
I was okay.
“It’s not the ice cream,” the burliest of them said as he removed his feet from the table. He looked again in my direction, and Damen scowled.
“See, we’re fine,” the man said, addressing Jamie. He gestured around the group. “It has to be the suspicious-smelling pork Seth ate while cataloging the kitchen.”
I narrowed my eyes. There was no way they were professionals.
“Excellent!” Mr. Weaver suddenly appeared behind me. “I told you the pork was wrong. Now go, foolish children, and figure out why someone would target me.”
With every word out of his mouth, I was more disinclined to assist him.
Damen cleared his throat and guided me past the unscrupulous group toward the couch. “It looks like you’ve got your handsfull,” he told Jamie. “I did let him know there might be an issue. Do you need my assistance in the meantime?”
Jamie’s mouth twisted in a pondering scowl, and he twirled his handlebar mustache. “It’s just a precaution. I should be okay with controlling them.” He glanced toward me. “But you should probably leave,” he told Damen.
Damen squeezed my hand. “Are you sure?” he asked, and I caught a hint of worry flickering in his eyes when he glanced at me. “You’re not exactly Ada.”
“I should be fine.” Jamie shrugged and looked at his fallen officer with exasperation. “Hopefully, he’ll be up soon. We don’t need you.”
I glanced between the two of them. What did any of this have to do with Titus?
A sense of unease pooled in my stomach. What was it from, exactly?
Was it how the others watched me whenever Damen's back was turned? Or maybe it was the fact that they’d drawn obscene graphics on their unconscious friend's face before diving into the snacks.
Perhaps it was the dawning realization that a deadly poison did not affect these people. Maybe they weren’t even human at all.
I had a bad feeling about this.
“Damen…” I tugged on his shirt. “Should we leave?”
“Yes.” Jamie perked at my suggestion. “Listen to your friend, Abernathy. I’ll send you my notes later.”
“How am I supposed to create an accurate profile from your scribblings?” Damen argued. “You aren’t even remotely qualified to do my research.”
Despite the situation, my chest swelled in pride. Damen clearly took his work seriously.
Mr. Weaver, who’d been lingering near my shoulder, chimed in. “Come to think of it,” he said, glancing at Damen. “Now I wonder…” He looked at me again and quickly quipped, “I’ll see you later,” before vanishing again.
I didn’t have time to worry about Mr. Weaver. At that moment, the burliest man—a blonde with a square face—stood from his seat.
