All of the stealth training Eamon has given me has paid off, but only to his detriment.
Once I had myrealshoes on, I bolted down the hallway to the elevator, hiding the sounds of my movements with the rolling of a room service cart.
Even with all of that, Iknow Ihadmaybe10 minutes before Eamon's instincts told him something was wrong.I needed to be far enough away that he would remain clueless for just a little bit longer.
The boutique hotel down the street and across from Charlie and Mike's place has a small barrightup against the glass, so anyone inside could easily see people coming and going from the building. If I was Alastor, that's where I would be.
As I enter the hotel, the clerk looks at me passively, barely acknowledging me as I point toward the bar. I can only imagine a place like this has snobby assholes coming and going at all hours; one more seemingly rude, definitely drunk girl won't even show up on their radar.
I let my eyes subtly travel the bar, from the sparkling black floor to the deep green high tops.Sheer curtains drape between the booths,giving an imitation of privacy but stillletting me see whereevery personin the room is standing.An emergency exit sign flickers behind the furthest table, and Iclock how long it might take me to run to it, knowing it'll let out into the side alley should I need an escape. The only weapon I have on me is a small knife, but hopefully, there won't be any need to use it since armed security dressed casually cover each corner of the dark room.
27 people in the room, four of which are security, six staff. So, of the 17 patrons, what are the chances that any of them are hunters on the lookout for me? Slim, hopefully.
An especially dirtyman sits in a booth, quietly twiddling his thumbs, an empty tumbler sitting before him while he tries too hard not to look at me. His dark blonde hair reflects the light, catching on each snarl and disheveled strand. The coat hewears is the darkest brown, almost too impeccable to match his purposefully messy look.
I slide into the booth across from him, looking at the face of someone I never thought I'd have to see again unless I had a gun pointed at him.
Alastor lowers his head, laying it ontop ofthe table, "You shouldn't be here."
"You look like shit," I respond. "You smell like it, too."
With a pained laugh, he lifts his head. The evidence ofjusthow terrible he's doing becomes more obvious as he does, the deep purple underneath his eyes, the whites of them far too red. "You're one to talk. Did you even shower after your latest romp with the demon, or did you just spray tequila on yourself and call it perfume?"
My fist aches to smash his stupid face in, but beforeI can, he drags both hands down his face, using his nails to dig down his flesh, dragging his lower eyelids to droop before releasing them. "Fuck— fuck, no. I'm sorry. I didn't— I shouldn't have said that. Old habits and all that."
I glare at him, the dig at my personal life only stinging for a second before I remember who this asshole is. "How's your shoulder?" Sarcasm drips from my tone.
Hejustlaughs again, rotating the arm I shot not too long ago, "It's fine. Not even close to the worst thing someone's done to me."
Empathy for what he's also been through begs to flow through me, but I can't let it. Can't forget that no matter what our family did to him, what he did to Bel left her so traumatized she was a shell of her former self because of him.
"Are you going to tell me what you to-"
His hand slams down on mine, quieting me. "Don't even talk about it." He looks around, suspicion making his eyes wide. "Youhave to pretend we never even had that conversation. Never speak of it again."
"Al," I scoff. "Come on. You had to know I would track you down and ask."
With a roll of his eyes, he removes his freezing hand from mine, "I hadhopedmy wasting of a burner phone to warn you would be enough to keep you far away from this. I've counted no less than 12 hunters swarming, looking for you."
"Well I've been here all day. What's stopped them from finding me?" I don't let the fear fill my chest. If they wanted me, I've been easy pickings. I can only imagine Alastor is plagued with paranoia.If they were here,they would have found him aseasilyas I did.
"You don't know how they operate, Isla. I do." He twiddles his thumbs again, his gaze darting up to the server coming to ask if I need anything. Twirling his glass toward her, he responds, "One more of these for me."
"And for you?" she asks me.
"Tequila soda," I shouldn't be having another drink, but if I don't, the pounding in my head from the come-down of this afternoon will never abate.
Alastor continues as she walks off, subtly glancing at her curves, "I've spent every second since I got here running interference."
"How?"
"I— okay, listen. Don't get mad."
That's not comforting."What have you done?"
"I knew that the Sanctus Sculitis knew that wherever Bel goes, you go.So like I told you, they've been tracking her, and I've justkind of...co-opted their investigation tactics."
"What the fuck does that mean?" My eye starts to twitch, "Co-opted?"
