“And stop the charade going on now.” I glanced into the darkened park. “We’ll take care of this. Other Trackers will have to save the real council members.”
We started down the winding set of stone stairs. “How did the Metamorphs find out that the council meeting is really being held here and not at another location?” Angel asked.
“Long story.” Inside I groaned. The Metamorphs had tricked me by making me believe that was my Adam they’d had as their captive. I’d spilled it out of fear for him—but I’d also been sure I would have the opportunity to escape come sundown. And I would stop the Metamorphs.
The Paranorm Center was a throwback to the Otherworld most of us originated from, some centuries, if not thousands of years, ago. Everything reminded me of home in the belowground realm of the Dark Elves … so medieval.
Torches flared to life to light the way into the darkness as the door slid shut behind us. Dark Elves have incredible night vision and I didn’t have to watch my step as I took the twisting turns of the rock staircase, which went almost as deep into the earth as the Realm of the Drow was in Otherworld.
When we reached the bottom we were in the enormous main foyer, which had five separate archways. We paused and then each took a side of the archway that would lead us to the main area of Paranorm Center. The massive hallway was empty. Quiet. The council chamber doors were closed.
“Some sentries they are,” Angel said beneath her breath as we looked at the Dryads sleeping in their towering wooden columns. “Their sense of smell sucks or they would have identified the Metamorphs.”
“I’d bet my cat that the guards that are usually inside the council chambers are Metamorph replacements, too,” I said.
Angel rolled her eyes. “That’s no stretch. I’m not even sure you like that blue Persian.”
Very possible. Kali had shredded so many of my Victoria’s Secret panties that I’d probably take a turtle in trade for the snotty cat.
The council doors were thick and heavy enough to completely mute any sound or voice inside. “I think they might consider backup security after this.”
I was wishing for one of my dragon-clawed daggers when Angel said, “You could use this.” When I turned my gaze to her, she carefully tossed a wicked-looking eighteen-inch-long dagger to me so that I caught it by the hilt.
With a quick nod of thanks, I slipped around the archway, wielding Angel’s dagger in my right hand.
“Halt.” A deep but musical bass of a voice sounded like thunder in the great hall and I came to a stop. “You are not allowed to wield any form of weapon here,” an ancient Dryad said from one of the thick columns. “You know this, Trackers.”
We didn’t have time to argue. “Who passed this way most recently?” I asked.
The Dryad narrowed her brow. “I do not answer to you, Tracker.”
“My apologies.” I wanted to scream with frustration. “All we can tell you is that Metamorphs have probably taken council members hostage and their doubles are inside the council chamber in their places.”
Dryad whispers echoed up and down the hallway at my words. The Dryads had no way of confirming this, because the Paranorm Council was para noid about any of its discussions being overheard.
Who knew—the mystery of the chamber could be that it was actually a spa where council members all got foot massages and pedicures. No one could really say what went on behind those doors, and council members kept their meetings secret. All we heard out of them was an occasional ruling, a new law, or a modification of an existing paranorm law.
The Dryad nodded, the creak of wood accompanying her movements. Angel and I hurried to the enormous council chamber doors.
“Open,” bellowed the vibrating voice of the Dryad we had been speaking with.
The council chamber doors swung open.
Six male and female council members turned their heads to look at us.