Chapter 26 Garrick
Garrick
Tacita dresses as midnight approaches, needing to return to the dormitories. A couple of the contestants are still being questioned in the cells. We had the usual mix of anger, frustration and quiet compliance but none of them had given us anything useful. Yet.
We’ll give those who were being challenging several hours to stew before the second round begins, and I’m going to start implementing some incentives.
Pulling on my uniform as well, I decide I can leave the monitors for a few minutes to walk Tacita out. She’ll need to change back into her contestants scrubs, which she’s no doubt left in my office.
“You can use my room if you want. It might be safer for you to keep sneaking back and forth.”
Her lips tug upwards. “Is that your way of getting me into bed?”
“I think I’ve already proven I don’t need a bed when it comes to you.” I feel myself grinning back.
She walks back into my waiting arms and I have a moment of feeling disconnected from my body.
A surrealism so stark that I have to close my eyes to shake it off.
I think I’ve just entered into a relationship with the Death Bringer and as she wraps her arms around my waist, I need a moment to catch my breath.
The last few weeks have been filled with anger and hatred towards her. Seeing her with them after we fucked in my office had sent me down a dark hole. Only now do I see that the hate was possibly jealousy.
And those feelings are still present, but they’re being extinguished as I process the last few hours.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks, concern filling her rich brown eyes. “You’re not regretting this already are you?”
“No,” I reassure her, pulling her body flush with mine. “This just feels…”
“Fast?” she provides when I fail to articulate the mash of emotions twisting in my chest.
“Yes, I guess.”
“I can see you overanalysing you know?” She chuckles.
“I don’t know how to react to you now.”
“No differently, Garrick,” she says softly. “I want you as you are.”
“But you irritated the fuck out of me.”
She laughs, it's such a sweet sound I want to bathe in it. “And don’t you think that was fun? I’ve got to admit, I’m liking this softer side of you.
And I like the side when we’re working together.
But I also like the side that tries to be dominant, the one that argues back and makes me want to stab you. ”
My eyebrows shoot up as I move quickly, gathering her wrists and bringing them above her head as I shove her back into the wall. “What do you mean tries?”
Her laughter fills the room even louder, she doesn’t even try to escape my grip. Narrowing my eyes, I try my best to look menacing, even letting my throat shift so I can growl properly, but I fail, my lips betraying me by chuckling alongside her.
Suddenly, I feel a caress running up my side and I jerk back as she retracts her tail. “That’s not fair.”
“Aw, is the puddy cat sad that he can’t bring his tail out to play without fully shifting.” I shut her up by stepping into her space again and kissing her so deeply she can’t taunt me anymore.
Eventually we make it to my room, grabbing her scrubs on the way. I don’t want her to leave as she opens the window to duck out into the night. But she must go back to her dorm room, we can’t afford for her to get caught out and having her stay the night is too big a risk.
She pulls me into another deep kiss and leaves my head spinning as she disappears from sight. After stashing her clothes in my closet and stripping down to my boxers, I collapse onto my bed.
Now I’m alone, there's no distractions from the torrent of emotions waging war with my insides. Do I regret the last few hours? Absolutely not! But I can’t help feeling apprehensive.
This could blow up in my face without much provocation on my part.
I don’t think Hades will mind us being together but maybe the timing isn’t the best when we’re failing to put a halt to the fucker murdering contestants in their beds.
As the morning rolls around, I shower and get ready in a tired haze, having tossed and turned the rest of the night, thinking of ways we can get the contestants in the cells to start talking.
Heading to the break room, I make myself a very strong coffee and grab a huge plate of bacon and eggs.
The chefs here deliver our breakfast before they start serving the contestants and I’m grateful for the service this morning.
It’ll be hard to return to making my own food once these games are over.
Officer Wilson walks in with Tarron and Dominic. He rightly avoids my eye contact as they gather their own breakfasts and join me at the big oak dining table we have in the kitchen area.
“Are you missing something Wilson?” I ask, keeping my voice level. He nearly drops his plate. Thankfully I’d waited until he’d nearly placed it on the wood surface before speaking.
“Sir… I, er…” he stumbles and swallows, freezing halfway between standing and sitting.
I reach into my trouser pocket and pull out his ID pass. Flinging it at him, I do my best to grow the fear I see in his eyes. “Have you not learnt to keep this on you at all times?”
He catches it and sits. “Sir, I’m so sorry, I left it on my desk while I popped to the bathroom. I didn’t expect any officers to take it.”
Tarron and Dominic are both still over by the serving station, even though they’ve filled their plates. Tarron looks terrified too, probably wondering if I’m going to remind him of his own transgressions where the passes are concerned. Dominic is shoving toast in his mouth, enjoying the show.
“You’re lucky it was the Death Bringer that found it.” All colour now leaks from Wilson’s face. “They handed it in to me, although not before using it.”
“It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Good. Because if I find it not attached to your person again I will ask Dom to surgically imbed it into your skin.”
“Sorry, sir” he says.
“You’re lucky Wilson, I’m feeling generous this morning.”
“I’ll say,” Tarron says, finally striding over having decided it’s safe to do so. “You went off like a gargoyle when I made that error.”
“You want to bring that back up?” I cock my head in challenge. The cup of coffee pauses halfway to his lips.
“Nope, forget I said anything.” He dives into his breakfast.
Letting it go, I address Dominic instead. “How quickly can you heal a few bones?”
“I’ve got some mend brewed. It’ll take a couple of hours to work on fingers, noses, or other small breaks. If you go breaking kneecaps or ribs you’re looking at a day. And I only have enough for a dozen tops.”
“Good. It’s about time we showed these contestants what it’s really like to fuck with the Demons of Hell.”
Chuckles break out around the table as I finish my breakfast and return the dishes to the trays for the staff to deal with.
“Meet me down in the cells when you’re done here,” I order them as I leave to go hunt down a few of the others for today’s interviews.
This lot are tougher than they look. I’ve personally questioned three of the suspects and haven’t had a single one crumble under the pressure–unlike their bones. I may have indeed broken a few ribs on the last one in my frustration.
Flicking the excess blood off my hands, I signal to the camera in the corner that Dominic is needed, then I leave number Eighty-Three unconscious.
Next on my list is number Sixty-Two, Cameron Diedamia. He was a private investigator in the mortal realm. He also has some accomplishments in the hired hitman field but kept it low level and seemed to quit when his PI business took off.
Opening the door to his cell, I can immediately tell this one might be a little different. The ire in his eyes informs me he does not appreciate being caged like an animal. He’s sat in the corner, one knee pulled up and arms folded.
If he feels anything about me entering his cell with my clothes wet and hands stained red, he doesn’t show it. I close the door and lean back against it, crossing one foot over the other at the ankle.
“How this goes is up to you,” I tell him.
“No matter what I choose I’m ending up bloody right?”
“Not if you start talking.”
“What is there to say? If I tell you I know nothing, you won’t believe me,” he sneers.
“You’re right there, number Sixty-Two. There’s no way you know absolutely nothing. Everyone here is a professional in some capacity. You all know about the murders that have been taking place. You especially must have theories, with your previous line of work.”
He sniggers. “I have thoughts, yes.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You’re questioning the wrong set of people.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, you want to look towards the one bragging about his killing ability every two seconds.”
I don’t have to ask to know he means Thirty-Nine, Wyatt. I don’t respond, letting the silence be the command for him to continue. I’m interested in what evidence he has, as it’s not like Thirty-Nine hasn’t been on my shortlist, even if the female I’m now seeing is tangled up with him as well.
“Well, did you know he broke into the teaching rooms? Pretty sure he’s broken into the Officers’ building as well.”
Neither of those things are news to me. Although he has the details wrong on the second one, Thirty-Nine broke out of these cells.
He’s just not aware of how closely we are monitoring his little lock picking habit.
Even with Tacita’s bias, she has been forthcoming with everywhere he gets into, including the other contestants’ rooms.
“That’s all you’re basing this on?” I pick a piece of skin out from under my nails.
“He’s also reinforced his own room.”
“And how would you know that?” Again, it’s not news. The guards have been checking the rooms daily when the contestants are in lectures. When we had an issue accessing Thirty-Nine’s room, I had to bring Khaos over. There’s no lock that the witch can’t open.
Sixty-Two doesn’t respond.