She tried the front door. Locked. She turned the bolt. Still locked.
Which was dumb. A door wouldn’t stop wraiths. Besides, the wraiths weren’t near the building, and with all of Segue’s firepower, they weren’t likely to get close. There was no reason she should be locked inside. This was her story, after all, the only thing keeping her sane. Especially after . . .
Layla dropped onto the sofa, her head in her hands. This was not acceptable. Tomorrow she and Adam would have to come to an agreement. “I hate controlling men.”
In the silence of the moment, the lock to her apartment door went snick.
Khan. So he was still there.
Layla rose, tried her hand on the lever, which now worked.
Very handy trick. “Okay,” she said to the air, “but we’ve got to talk later.”
Layla threw open the door and jogged toward the elevator. Damn it, she wanted her camera. Her camera, stolen with her car, and her gun, which was in Zoe’s possession. A sense of being followed had her glancing over her shoulder; so Khan had her back. No gun necessary. A sensuous whoosh of darkened air on her skin made her abdomen clench. Yeah, he was there all right. Damn him.
She opened the door to the stairs, which must have signaled something to Segue security, because two steps inside the stairwell and a metal wall of bars came down in front of her, cutting off her progress down the stairs. She turned back just as another sudden wall trapped her in the space, like a cage. It had to be some kind of precaution against wraiths, built along with Segue’s renovation. And she guessed it made sense that they’d block entrances and passageways in the event of a wraith attack, but it was hugely inconvenient for her.
Or was it? The teleport thing, what Khan called “passing.” She debated for half a sec, then decided. “Do you mind taking me to where I need to go? You know, close enough to see, but not so close I get my head bitten off?”
The stairwell darkened. Layla clutched the railing. A slow stroke of air moved around her body. A rush of Shadow, an embrace of shuddering magic, and she was on uneven earth.
Layla blinked hard against the dramatic shift from Segue light to predawn dark. The horizon was just barely beginning to whiten. The sharp winter air singed her lungs but she didn’t feel cold.
Sparks flashed with a volley of automatic weapons fire, startling her heart. She could make out human shapes, but whether man or wraith, she couldn’t tell. She picked her way forward, squinting to see. There was movement to her left. The low buzz of a voice. Male. A bunch of men.
Had to be Segue soldiers. One turned, as if sensing her presence.
“Ms. Mathews?”
Adam.
“For chrissake, you should be inside.”
“I’m not a stay-inside kind of girl.” Reckless was her middle name. Adam had no idea.
Layla knelt down behind them. Adam didn’t object. He and his men went back to peering at some kind of army technology that displayed glowy human forms moving across a gridded terrain.
Adam tapped on the screen, which shifted vantages. “Where’s Khan?”
Of course, Adam would know how she got there, and so quickly. How else could she get through his security and out of the Segue building, some three hundred yards away?
“Somewhere. He won’t show himself.”
Adam grunted. Obviously, Khan’s behavior wasn’t unusual to him.
Layla scanned the woods, letting her eyes adjust to make out a couple of crouched soldiers in the thick brush. Bullets couldn’t kill a wraith, but they’d slow it down long enough that a trained team could incapacitate and take it into custody.
“How many?” she whispered.
“At least six,” Adam answered. “This isn’t a full-blown attack. They’re just testing the perimeter with small parties.”
“What are they after?”
He flicked his gaze over. “Talia. Always Talia.”
The look in his eyes—worry, anger, frustration—made Layla like him for once. Every day he worked to stop the wraiths, crouching in the cold dark to keep his wife and children safe. He was a soldier, like these men, dedicated to a cause. If he was hard and controlling, she guessed he had reason to be.
“The perimeter is secure, Mr. Thorne. One casualty. One wraith in custody. No further wraith-sign.”
“Doesn’t feel right,” he answered.
Could’ve been the cold, but Layla had that bad, skinprickling feeling, too. Like she was in the center of a bull’s-eye, oblivious to the arrow winging her way. The soldiers at least had night-vision gear. Adam had his technology. She was in a T-shirt and sweats. But yeah, okay, with Mr. Enigma, dark lord of the fae, nearby.