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Story: The Siren

“Kian is heading for the Red Mansion,” Lucienne said, gazing up at Vladimir. “If you’re so worried, I’ll take Orlando.”

“And Duncan, too.”

“Fine, if you’ll behave here.”

“I’ll behave. I always do.”

“No more using anyone as a punching bag.”

“I’ll break no noses, that much I can promise,” he said, reaching out and tracing his callused thumb across Lucienne’s cheek.

Lucienne swallowed, feeling her evening gown shivering against her skin. Vladimir’s touch always had that effect on her. She fought her desperate need to throw her arms around his neck. She had to go now and once again leave him behind.

“And when you come back, I’ll cook dinner at my place,” Vladimir said. “I’ll make sure there are no surprises.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lucienne punched the first code onto the keypad in the door of the Ghost House. Faint electricity stunned her. Without missing a beat, she hit a second combination.

A whooshing sound, then the massive metal door glided open from the middle.

Carrying a small suitcase, Lucienne stepped toward the Ghost House. Orlando led the way and Duncan flanked the rear, but Lucienne stopped them both. “Wait outside,” she said. “I’ll bring only Dr. Wren with me.”

“Lucia,” Orlando started to protest.

“I won’t bring a soldier with me,” Lucienne said. “I need to do this as a peace gesture. I hurt the boy, and he knew it was me.” Over Orlando’s unhappy look, she coaxed, “I’ll be safe. I took down an assassin when I was eight, didn’t I? Are you going to question my skills now?”

Grunting disapprovingly, Orlando took Duncan’s radio and handed it to Dr. Wren. “Doctor, press the button if you see so much as a cockroach.” He then withdrew and positioned himself next to Duncan at the door, weapons drawn.

Lucienne continued on. Dr. Wren, carrying his medical bag, followed her gingerly.

Inside, the Ghost House was like an arena with arched cathedral ceilings. Lucienne took in the complex structure and its sophisticated machinery. She walked down a long aisle cluttered with pieces of discarded machines.So, this is what Ashburn claimed was his playground.She opted not to check out the odd hardware, insteadgoing straight toward the dead zone in the center of the arena, her hand on the pistol under her white jacket. She had changed from her evening gown into a leather suit and a crimson scarf.

She was glad Dr. Wren wasn’t in a chatty mood for once. Her mind was still occupied with what Ashburn had revealed earlier. “I’m not the bloodline of the Exiles. My double helix isn’t superior!”

Who were the Exiles? There was no record about the race in any mythology. Was it possible that a third power had joined the game—or, perhaps even initiated the game?

That was a puzzle she couldn’t solve at the moment. But first things first—she would need a sample of Ashburn’s DNA. Dr. Wren had orders to get it for her when he examined Ashburn.

As Lucienne marched toward the center of the arena, a dot on her Eidolon indicated the zone drawing nearer. She turned left on a corridor lined by yet more machine junk. As she made the next left turn, her Eidolon went off- line.

That didn’t stop Lucienne. Having memorized the route Ashburn’s motorcycle took, Lucienne first turned right, then right again, then left, until she was blocked by a magnificent pillar. It was seven feet wide, stretching from ceiling to floor. It seemed to be made of ice, but when Lucienne touched it, it didn’t feel cold. Extricating her archaeological scanner from her expedition gear, she scanned the column.

“Material unknown,” the scanner read.

“Where’s the patient?” Dr. Wren asked, looking around.

Lucienne walked around the pillar and spotted a double-crescent moon carved in one side of the wall. Between the two moons was a perfect female face with silver eyes and silver hair. She looked human, except that she had pointed ears and a map of a star system Lucienne had never seen on her broad forehead.

“I believe the patient is inside the wall,” Lucienne said.

Dr. Wren blinked. “Would you mind calling him out? It seems unwise for us to try to get in, if that’s even possible.”

Lucienne pressed her thumb on the eye, but there was no response.

“Ashburn,” she called. “It’s Lucienne. I need to see you.”

No answer.