Page 169 of Gates of Tartarus

As it turns out – a lot. Seef drones on for a bit, then Maddox, and then somebody interrupts about something, which leads to a discussion about something else, and then Emlyn, and then somebody else, about something. Now and then, the discussion will become more intense, as the men lean forward across the table to make a point. Woof. Bow wow. Every so often, I try to pipe up, but I might as well not be there; the men just talk over me. So much for the vote of confidence earlier. I settle in glumly for a long morning.

Avenging Furies

Tuesday, 11 December - Kailani

Sitting at the table with the guys arguing around me, I frown in exasperation. Looking over my shoulder, I meet Maela’s eyes, her face mirroring my expression. I raise an eyebrow, rolling my eyes slightly as I nod towards the men, and she shakes her head a little, shrugging. Our silent communication goes unnoticed, but it’s an unexpected strand of camaraderie coming from the tiny redhead. I haven’t asked her if I can do a reading on her yet, but it’s difficult to not reach out a little. Her face is inscrutable, shoulders tights, eyes serious, and cheeks slightly flushed. I tilt my head slightly, staring maybe a moment too long, and she unconsciously mimics my movement, tilting her head back like a curious bird. After a bit, an unexpected smile quirks the corner of her lips, and mine curl in response. Behind us, the testosterone has crept up to volcanic levels.

“... Not a FUCKING CHANCE!” Walker explodes, the tone jerking my head around to look at him. “That option’s not even on the table.” Jonah’s frowning, unexpected anger lacing his features, and I wonder what I’ve missed. “Do it with yours, if you’re so confident.”

A handsome, chiseled man with light eyes snaps back in, let’s be honest, a panty-dropping accent, “That’s out of the question. We’ve all agreed yours is the more capable for field work. Consider the training.”

Oh, purrrr. Talk dirty to me, James Bond. A darker, Spanish-looking man glances up at me quickly with an amused look on his face, and I shoot back my best “fuck off, you fucking fuckface” look at him, though honestly, I feel kind of bad about it, which only seems to amuse him more.

Jonah leans forward, voice calm, belying his clenched jaw. “Let’s all just step back for a moment. Realizing we’re operating under serious time constraints, there have to be other options.”

Smith and his bro-friend are shoulder to shoulder at the head of the table, exchanging considering looks, and, if I weren’t so confused, I’d honestly find it adorable. There’s a whole conversation between the two of them without words, then Smith raps on the table once.

“We’ve been over it several times, guys. Our best chance of luring her out is some sort of incentive.”

Seef takes over, continuing, “We must act quickly to be effective. This is the most likely chance of…”

“That’sfine,” Deo cuts in. “And without a doubt, ours has considerably more skill. Obviously more capable. So our team can run point.”

Surprisingly, Seef’s face darkens, and he growls back, “Ourshas an incredibly impressive skill-set. There’s no need…”

“Heagrees with me,” Deo interrupts calmly, looking towards the chiseled Brit. “He just said as much. Yours just doesn’t have the ability.”

The man with the accent and the eyes suddenly looks discomforted and opens his mouth to speak, when the quiet, calm man sitting near him joins the conversation, his voice considering. “I think you’d be completely surprised by how unexpectedly strong ours is. The element of surprise would be helpful.”

Jonah nods, agreeing with him. “Exactly. Theirs would be the better option.”

“Not necessarily,” replies the Brit. “I’m not saying ours couldn’t handle it. I’m absolutely certain ours could. I have the utmost faith in her abilities. Ours doesn’t need to be near the subject, which perhaps we should consider. Yours is extremely limited, if you think about it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Walker bursts in again. “A)you’rethe one suggesting we useours, so fuck right on off. And B) theentireteam needs to agree before offering up some kind of sacrificial lamb! But let’s be honest,” he adds, almost grudgingly, “Ours is clearly better suited for the job. I’m pretty sure yours would break in a second.”

Wait… what?I think, suddenly laser focused on what they’re saying.They’re talking about... us? Like we’re fucking tools or some shit?I look back over my shoulder at Maela, who seems to have come to the same conclusion, her face tightening with anger. The noise behind us grows as the bass and baritones get louder and louder, all arguing at the same time, talking over each other to make their points.No onehas addressed Maela or me, and my eyes narrow into slits as I’m overcome with fury.

Turning back to face the men, I slam my hands on the table, opening my mouth to unleash holy hell, when a minute, irate banshee of a woman explodes over my shoulder.

“You... You… PHILISTINES!” Maela erupts with the force of a thousand suns. This is clearly a woman who has hit her breaking point. The men startle back as one, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing at the looks on their faces. “CRETINS!YOU!” she yells threateningly, storming over to Jonah and shoving a finger in his face. “AndYOU!” she continues, reaching over him to shove the same finger in the Brit’s face. “Talking about us like we’re chattel for you to buy and sell! Do welooklike chattel to you?” She zooms down, leaning into Jonah’s face threateningly. “DO WE?”

Jonah looks suitably abashed and mumbles something quietly.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you!” Maela says, staring at him with glacial eyes.

“N... no…” he stammers, and she whirls about suddenly, facing the mild-mannered men next to Deo. The one who smiled at me earlier looks properly alarmed as she slams her hands on the table. “Is somethingfunnyto you, Kavi? Jorge? Is somethingamusing?” Both men look cautious, like they’re unsure how to handle the petite, plaid-wearing warrior in front of them. “Isawyou smirking.” One of the men holds up his hands in a gesture of peace and tries to soothe her with a gentle, “Maela…”

She scoffs at him, meeting my eyes as we exchange disbelieving looks. “Don’t you ‘Maela’ me, you wanking wanker!”

But it’s all just a precursor to the paroxysmal eruption of temper that lights her up when Seef and Walker mutter something to each other about, “no time for this.” Maela turns fluidly, stalking towards them like a tiny, bloodthirsty, red-headed lion. Her voice drops to a low, growly tone.

“Andyooooou…” she draws out the word into almost a hiss. “Yousmarmy, self-righteous, arrogant, smug-nosed…”she pauses briefly and turns to me.

“Ass-faced fuckwits?” I suggest helpfully, and she nods approvingly.

“... arse-facedFECKWITS!” she finishes triumphantly, at ear-splitting decibels, and I’m fairly certain I can hear security running down the hallway outside. “You’reluckyto have us, you... you... you... PLAGUE-RIDDEN CURS!”

I step up behind her and lay a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Er… um... steady on there, Maela. Steady on…”