“Good girl. Then I’ll look for you there.”
Layla claimed a whole table, thinking to create a time line of wraith growth and activity according to Segue’s records, which were considerably superior to anything available to the general public. The institute was founded to house and study Jacob, Adam’s brother, who had apparently murdered their parents shortly after turning wraith. Like Layla, Adam had focused on scientific studies of Jacob’s condition, but soon diverged to include the paranormal. Looked like Talia was brought in to use near-death experiences to augment the research.
Yet according to Segue records, Jacob was in no way the first of the wraiths. Adam had detailed accounts that identified murders with indicative facial lacerations and jaw fractures as far back as seventeen years. Seventeen. There were two more from eighteen years ago, but that couldn’t be right. And then a list of others, spotty yes, that included possible deaths as far back as twenty years. Twenty-three, if the last record was viable.
And here she’d tried to pin Adam on ground zero.
The WHO was way, way off. This had been a growing problem for a long time.
And who was The Death Collector? Sounded like “debt collector” to her. Was he the first wraith? Or something worse? Layla wished she could ask Talia.
She grabbed lunch—Marcie had made killer pizza—then went back to work. Dr. James stopped by with a handful of her articles, which he’d found on the Internet and printed out. He’d taken the time to read them and highlight all the things she’d gotten wrong. Which meant there was more color than white space. Generous of him.
Talia came in and collapsed into a chair. She looked frazzled, almost in tears over her kids. Seemed Michael, the firstborn, was playing with Shadow. It took all Talia’s concentration, all her magic, to keep him firmly in mortality. Adam had kicked her out while they napped so she could breathe. A half hour passed before she got a call. Michael was up and at it again, so she was off.
It was late afternoon when Adam showed. He had good news. An agreement had been made for Mickey Petty’s release. Transport was arranged for tomorrow, when things would get very interesting. Adam acted like it was just another day in the life at Segue. Even after Layla’s day of quiet work, she was still shell-shocked, but she had the even stranger sensation of fitting in.
The wraith holding facility was a mound of earth like a fairy ring, topped with the same yellowing winter grass. A soldier in some whacked-out supergear stood post outside an innocuous-looking door cut into the side of the hill. Entering took two simultaneous key cards and some weird scan that Adam had to stand still for.
“We used to hold a wraith in captivity under the main building,” he said, “but that didn’t work out too well.”
Layla could imagine.
“We lost three people the day my brother escaped, so now the wraiths are kept out here. This building can be completely sealed off in the event of an attack. We’ll have to do some kind of service to dedicate it as a barrow, or it won’t hold wights.”
“How do you plan to get them down here in the first place?” Seemed impossible to her.
“Launching a new division to work on that problem.” He looked over at her. “Wish I’d gotten a look at that one you spotted yesterday.”
They took a small elevator down into the earth, which opened into a control room. Inside the fairy mound, technology held the monsters at bay. Three soldiers sat in front of several monitors with sleek computer interfaces. A fourth soldier waited by the elevator.
“Good morning, Rick.”
Rick nodded back. “Sir.”
Layla lifted her camera. “May I?”
“For your reference only,” Adam said. “I don’t want to compromise the security or personnel here.”
Right. Layla lowered her camera.
Adam signaled Rick. “Open ’er up.”
A wide, tall door opposite the control desk gasped open, and a strong puff of fetid air almost knocked Layla over.
“Yeah, they stink all right,” Adam said.
The wraiths within must have sensed the change because suddenly a chorus of earsplitting pterodactyl screeches shredded Layla’s ears. She braced herself on the wall, her heart racing. She’d heard that screech many times during her coverage of the wraith war, but only once so close. She’d never run so fast in her life.
“There are sixteen cells in the facility,” Adam said, “with three wraiths currently in residence, all male. These were nested in Baltimore and apprehended by the police. You might remember, there was a stir about it on the news?”
Layla nodded. Two cops down. She took a deep breath, but her heart still wouldn’t slow. She didn’t want to go in there. Had she really searched deserted city alleys, abandoned buildings, and dockside warehouses to encounter one? She’d been out of her mind.