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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, instead going 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.

“Ashburn?” Lucienne put her scanner back in her gear bag, took out a laser gun, and fired at the pillar. Not even a puff of dust came from the lock.

“Isn’t that the laser Prince Vladimir said would cut anything?” Dr. Wren asked.

“It didn’t cut into this thing!” Lucienne stared at the lock. Then an idea came to her. Her Siren’s mark opened the crypt in Tibet. Maybe it could open the pillar, too. “Dr. Wren, please turn your back to me.”

The doctor obeyed without question.

Lucienne bent backward, pressing the Siren’s mark against the cold lock. When she didn’t feel a connection, she rose, pulled her pistol from the broad belt of her pants and, in frustration, shot the lock. It didn’t budge. Only Dr. Wren jumped and turned to see what was happening.

A loud hiss of air. Then, in front of their eyes, the lock transformed into a liquid interface and rose to the top of the pillar. A half transparent door moved aside.

Ashburn’s protector, with his nude torso and loose white sweatpants, appeared at the entryway of the open pillar.

A soft glow from inside outlined him like one of the sculptured Greek gods with glowing bronze eyes.

Only this god had long, greasy hair. “That’s not the way to break in, Lucienne Niahm Lam, descendent of one of the oldest bloodlines on Earth,” he said.

“All you need is to ask and knock. Ashburn would never deny you.”

Lucienne’s face went white. No one knew her middle name.

Not even Jed Lam. The name was given to her by the Siren’s mark in the ritual.

Niamh—mythical princess of the land of promise—was the mother of the first Siren.

And that was the name she used when communicating with her mark.

How did this man know her best-kept secret?

A chilly revulsion surged through Lucienne, sinking into the marrow of her bones. Her eyes grew murderously cold.

Dr. Wren widened his eyes. “This is the patient?” He shuddered. “He looks as good as he can get. Are you sure he needs a physical?”

Lucienne sharpened her sense and delved into the cryptic man’s mind. Her brown eyes went wild. The man’s consciousness was a black hole that swallowed light. Lucienne shivered and withdrew.

“Do I make you nervous, Siren?” the man asked, studying her.

“Do you take pleasure in making me nervous?” she asked back. An unsettling feeling warned her to walk away, but she wouldn’t leave without seeing Ashburn.

The man chuckled. “I take no pleasure in making a lady uncomfortable. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Lucienne dropped the pleasantries. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Why don’t you come to the Rabbit Hole and find out who I am? Allow me to be a good host,” the man said.

“That’s a bad idea, Lucia,” the doctor murmured beside her.

Lucienne remembered when Ashburn fell, his protector persuaded him to enter the Rabbit Hole. Ashburn must be inside. “The term ‘Rabbit Hole’ refers to a portal into a different world,” Lucienne said, “like in Alice in Wonderland .”

“It also means ‘boundless in the extremities of time, immeasurable in its capacity, perpetual in its own right.’” the man said.

Who is this man? “Thank you for the invitation, but I came for Ashburn. Where is he?” Lucienne asked, putting her handgun back under her jacket while keeping a keen eye on her opponent. “I’ve brought my family doctor to help him if he’s hurt.”

“He’s resting down the Rabbit Hole.” He indicated down with his chin. “You’ve done him great damage, Lucienne Lam, using the Eye of Time to hunt him. Fortunately, we have this place—a sanctuary that nothing and no one can enter without an invitation. ”

That was why the Dragonfly couldn’t spot it, Lucienne thought drily.

“You can’t just assume it was me who hurt him,” said Lucienne. “When he fell, I was nowhere near him. You, however, were around. And he seemed to be afraid of you.”

“I have no patience for games. You should leave then,” the man muttered a command, and the door moved back. Instinctively, Lucienne leapt and landed inside the pillar just before the door whooshed shut.

“Lucia, no!” Dr. Wren called after her, his panicked voice lost to the blackness.

Under her feet, the ground suddenly sank. Lucienne stumbled and fell at high speed. She muffled a scream as she heard the man’s chuckle.

A faint glow emerged overhead. With her heart still throbbing in her throat, Lucienne looked up.

There were neither walls nor ceiling, just a void encompassing her.

The light came from the floating liquid interface.

Under the pale lighting, Lucienne saw the giant man towering at her right side.

Her body tensed, an animal instinct on full alert inside her.

She stepped left, putting distance between them.

No assault came. Lucienne relaxed a little, until she looked down. There was no ground beneath her feet. And yet, this nothingness was solid enough to support her.

“How deep is this Rabbit Hole?” she asked in awe.

The descent stopped abruptly.

“We’ve arrived,” announced the man.

“But there’s no ground,” said Lucienne.

“You just can’t see it.” The giant reached to grab Lucienne’s wrist. She was taken aback, but her surprise didn’t affect her reflexes.

She chopped down his hand before it could touch her.

Also amazingly fast, the man stepped back, holding his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

“My apologies, Siren. I was trying to help you off the platform.” Chortling, he stepped off the invisible elevator and walked around in endless space.

Holding her breath, Lucienne stepped forward.

It felt as if she descended a staircase that wasn’t there.

She moved forward, and the hollowness extended.

Her eyes couldn’t see ground, yet she stood on it.

The place was dark like space, yet she could see the giant standing several feet away, watching her.

The laws of physics were at odds with her perception of reality in this realm.

“No signal can reach here, and nothing goes out,” he said. “Here, Ashburn can have the golden silence in his head. Only here is he not subjected to billions of strangers’ memories. This is his escape. The Rabbit Hole was built for him a million years ago.”

“Before he was born?” Lucienne raised an eyebrow in skepticism.