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“We already have,” Jonas said. “They couldn’t tell us much.”
“Maybe they couldn’t tell you anything,” I said, “but maybe they’d talk to me, as another applicant.”
“I’ll see what we can arrange,” Nuri said. “But right now, you’d better leave if you want to get into Central before they close the gates for the evening.”
As I picked up my weapons bag, my gaze drifted to Jonas. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.” There was so little inflection in his voice I wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise.
I hesitated, then, with a nod to Nuri, turned and left. Cat and Bear shot ahead, excited to be on the move again. We made our way down through the various levels, the air thick with scents and sounds, filled with oncoming shadows and the pressing weight of everything above us. My skin crawled and my stomach twisted, and it was all I could do to maintain my pace, to not run like hell out of the too-close confines of the place.
A feeling I oddly didn’t get when I was at Nuri’s.
The late-afternoon air was cool and sweet, and I sucked it in, cleansing my lungs of all that was Chaos. Then I pulled out the piece of paper, quickly memorizing it before tearing it into tiny pieces and releasing it on the breeze. Bear chased several of the pieces, his laughter running across my senses and making me smile.
We followed the old river’s course and, in very little time, reached the South Siding exit—where a rush of excited, worried little ghosts met us.
While we’d been away, someone had tried yet again to get into our home.
Chapter 9
It took me a good ten minutes to calm them down enough to get any sort of clear imagery. What had tried to get into our home was gray-skinned, flat-faced, with large eyes and little in the way of other features. A wraith. A female wraith.
In the middle of the day.
Either Nuri was right, and wraiths had gained the ability to move around in daylight, or something else was going on.
But what? Why would a wraith—or anyone else for that matter—want to get into our bunker? As far as anyone else knew, aside from the museum section, the place was filled with concrete.
Only Nuri, her crew, and Penny knew otherwise.
And if Penny was connected to either the wraiths or the vampires—or to whoever or whatever the force was behind the vampires—then why come here today? They’d have to know she wasn’t here, but rather in Chaos . . .
No, I realized suddenly, they wouldn’t. Nuri had mentioned she was keeping Penny isolated. Maybe she didn’t mean physically as much as mentally. And that meant that while the wraiths hadn’t succeeded getting in today, they might well in the future. It might have been only one hundred years since the end of the war, but technology developments had far outstripped anything I had here in the bunker. While in some ways that might be a blessing, it could also be a curse. I had no real idea how easy it would be for someone possessing the right code-breaking equipment to get past my current system.
Which meant I’d have to risk firing up another generator for daytime use, and installing full security on the South Siding exit, at least until we’d sorted out what was going on.
I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, then punched in the security code and headed into our bunker. Dusk hadn’t yet fallen, so the lights weren’t on yet. Not that it really mattered, as I didn’t need them. After all my years of living in this place, I could have walked around it blindfolded. I headed for the main generator panel room and coded in new exceptions, bringing the South Siding exit and its corridor back into the security net. While the tunnel had no weaponry of any sort, bringing it back into the system meant that if someone broke in, we’d at least have time to react.
A few minutes later, with a rattle and a cough, the spare generator kicked into gear. I kept my fingers crossed it held up—and that we sorted out what was going on sooner rather than later.
With that done, I headed for the hydro pods and quickly cleansed myself. Once I’d re-dressed, I ordered Cat and Bear to keep an eye on things and headed back out.
The last caterpillar pod for the evening pulled into the station just as I reached it. People piled out and their sharp scents—human, shifter, sweat, and perhaps a touch of fear at the oncoming of night—filled the air. Other than the sound of their hurried steps, there was little other noise. There were no conversations, not even whispers. Everyone seemed intent on moving forward as swiftly and as economically as possible.
I kept to the middle of the crowd until we were through the gatehouse, then eased to one side and made my way into First Street. Five minutes later I was entering Hedone.
The receptionist—another blonde—looked up as I entered and gave me a wide smile. “Welcome to Hedone,” she said, voice warm and pleasant. “How may we help you this fine evening?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Casimir. He’s expecting me.”
“Of course. And your name is?”
“Ti Zindela.”
“Please, take a seat while I give Mr. Casimir a call.”
“Thanks.” I moved across to one of the plush white leather armchairs and idly picked up one of the catalogues. The screen instantly came to life and began scrolling through a selection of athletic men, making me wonder if gender preference had been one of the details inputted into the RFID.
