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I could tell immediately that he’d noticed me and Black talking amongst ourselves, mostly because he looked annoyed. Before I could mouth an apology, his jaw hardened, right before his eyes landed pointedly on the panel to the right of the elevator doors.

I followed his gaze and saw a number stating “S03-9.”

Was that for sub-level nine?

Or Sub-Level 03, and nine floors beneath that?

Gods.

That wasn’t possible, was it?

Black was already following the admin with the blue eyes out the open elevator doors, so I didn’t see much choice but to follow.

Nick fell into step behind me, and the hair on my arms rose from his silent presence there, presumably because his vampire-predator thing had already kicked into overdrive because he didn’t trust the situation.

I didn’t blame him.

I didn’t trust it, either.

10

THE TECH

Ithought we’d be heading straight for a lab, possibly to wherever they stored Rucker’s body, so I was startled to find us walking into someone’s office, a sumptuously-decorated, windowless space that had virtual screens covering two of the four walls.

I flinched at what looked like a unicorn galloping away along one of those walls, through a field of waving, thigh-high, dark green grasses.

I knew it wasn’t real. I knew that instantly, of course; but the sight of it, the sound of birds and bees and the unicorn’s high neigh, thundering hooves, wind rustling the stalks, the actual smell of grass and leaves and earth and sweat, all heated in summer sun, briefly overwhelmed my senses.

I saw movement to my left then, and turned.

A small, balding man with mousy brown hair sat there, dwarfed by an enormous desk made of what looked like burnished steel.

Behind him stretched one of the blank walls, painted a dark green.

He wore a stained lab coat over a rumpled, gray T-shirt with a greenSpace Invadersmonster on it, and a cheap-looking digital watch. Half of his desk was taken up by another monitor, horizontal in orientation and probably touch-screen, but stacks of paper covered the other side, so high they looked precarious. He, and his desk, didn’t at all match the richly-colored Persian rugs, the expensive-looking leather couches, the throw pillows, pristine bookshelves, metal sculptures, and wall paintings that decorated the the rest of the room.

A chess set stood on a small table between two leather armchairs. From the way the pieces were set, it appeared to be mid-game.

The man peered at us over rim-less glasses, and I could already feel the nerves vibrating off him, even before he cleared his throat and coughed, using a pale knuckle to shove his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I-I have the b-b-best equipment in here for viewing all of the s-s-surveillance footage,” he said, his voice stammering and apologetic. “Ms. Gorren wanted me to b-b-be here, to… ah… s-supervise, I suppose. Mr. Morgan, our H-H-Head of Security, was supposed to be here by now… he can show you all the r-r-relevant footage.”

He checked his cheap digital watch, and cleared his throat.

I made myself smile at him reassuringly, even though everything about him put me on edge. “I’m Dr. Miriam Black,” I said, smiling wider through my voice. “This is my husband, Quentin Black, and our associate, Mr. Nick Tanaka.”

“I… ah, y-y-yes… I know who you are.”

“And you are?” I queried politely.

The man blinked like an owl. “E-E-Excuse me?”

Black grunted. “Your name. You told us everyone’s name but yours.”

He jumped a little. “Oh. Oh… y-yes! A-Apologies. Of course. I’m Leon Wicker, V.P. of R-R-Research and Development here at Prometharis.” He looked around the room like he didn’t recognize much in it, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This is t-t-technically my office, but I don’t come up here very often, to b-b-be honest. I watch surgeries in here… you know, s-s-sometimes… but only ones I’m not involved in d-directly. The cameras are b-b-better, and I’m out of the way… but I’m usually in the l-l-laboratory cubicles d-d-downstairs, since I’m also the lead scientist.”

Surgeries?my mind muttered.Downstairs?