Everybody looked at each other. But nobody produced a weapon.
“Come on!” I whined. “Half of you guys are demons! You’re not exactly pacifists or anything!” I turned to Gavsot. “You run a police force and lead an army! How do you not have some kind of weapon?”
“Our usual form of fighting involves a mixture of hand-to-hand combat and the clashing of telekinetic powers,” he explained.
“You can still use knives in hand-to-hand combat,” I said irritably. “I hear they’re actually pretty useful.”
“You could check the armory,” Sylnie suggested.
I turned to stare at her in awe. “The what?”
Gus smacked himself in the forehead with his open palm. “That’s the kind of thing I was supposed to think of,” he mumbled.
“When you had me find something to wear, I passed a door near the staff wardrobe storage room that said Armory on it,” she said.
“Fantastic,” I replied, my foul mood starting to lift. “Show us where it is.”
As we headed toward the back door of my office, I heard Azraal’s head chuckling softly from its perch on my desk. “What exactly is so funny?” I snapped.
“I just find it terribly amusing,” he explained with a cheeky grin, “That you made your sexy, busty secretary put some clothes on.” He let out a brief cackle. “Too excited to get any work done? No wonder Kivra keeps making you her bitch.”
Frowning, I yanked open a drawer at the bottom of my desk, tossed a protesting Azraal inside, and slammed it shut. Then I hurried after Sylnie.
My foul mood wasn’t lifting anymore.