Heff did as he was told.
Their evacuation of the abandoned building was fast and efficient. No one had to tell any of them how close it was until sunrise. Like shadows within shadows, they slipped soundlessly from the Sinclair Building. Heff brought up the rear of his squad of ten adult vampyres and almost the same number of fledglings. He paused, waiting for the general to move far enough down the street with his soldiers that the blowing snow obscured his sight. Then he carefully repositioned the plywood barrier, using a broken piece of tile he’d found within to quickly pound the nails into place, securing it as if it had never been breached.
I might need this later, and that is something Dominick doesn’t need to know.
He caught up with the fledglings easily. They were already becoming sluggish and were almost sleepwalking when they came to the ornate entrance to the Philtower lobby.
“Stay here until I whistle. Then, come to me quickly,” Heff told his group, leaving them huddled together in the darkness just outside the arched entrance.
He sprinted to the double doors and slipped within.
He saw little differences between this Philtower and the one that housed Neferet. But those little differences were significant. There were no red Warriors stationed at the entrance and the elevators. There were no blue Warriors marching in to relieve them. There were no Warriors present at all. The lobby was completely deserted.
It was still ornate, with Gothic arches and huge light fixtures. But this Philtower had clusters of expensively upholstered circular seating arrangements, and the fixtures bathed the Gothic carving with a soft, rose-tinted electric light.
Neferet’s Philtower had no seating arrangements. And she had replaced the electric lights with flickering gaslights.
Though the flesh on the back of his neck prickled with a sense of unease, Heff jogged to the door that opened to plain, industrial-looking stairs leading down to a basement that housed the tunnels. The thick double metal doors were the same, only they were closed and barred, though it was easy enough for Heff to open them.
He peered into the complete darkness of the tunnel. Heff left the door open as he hurried within; his glowing red eyes didn’t need the light.
The peeling green paint was the same. The arched tunnel was the same, except for the absence of cots.
And the door that should be open to the adjoining Philcade system was closed.
Heff ran his hand over the familiar rounded side of the tunnel. He held his breath until his fingers found the slight indentation he hoped was there.
It was. He could feel it ready to give under his palm. He let out a long sigh of relief. At least they wouldn’t be trapped. Then he jogged up the stairs and through the deserted lobby, opened the door and whistled sharply.
It was close enough to dawn that the fledglings were staggering badly, so he and his squad had to support them down the stairs and into the tunnel.
Heff shut the metal door behind them. Without speaking, the fledglings curled up on the floor in a tight nest and fell asleep instantly.
He ordered the adults to rest close to the entrance.
Kevin Heffer didn’t join them. Instead, he trudged to the rear of the tunnel, picking his way around already sleeping fledglings and sat, propped against the cold side of the tunnel near the rear door, and as sunrise pressed down on him, pulling him into a fitful semiconscious state, he thought about his sister.
Was she truly alive? Had he really seen her, or had that been just another trick of this strange world?
Heff thought he’d forgotten how to let himself hope, but as sunrise forced him into sleep, he surprised himself by discovering he still knew how—Kevin Heffer still knew how to hope.
If only … If only it was true, and Zoey was alive and safe and a High Priestess. Could she help him? More importantly, would she help him?
Zoey
“They split up. A group of red vampyres went inside the Atlas Building. Just minutes ago a second group—this one mostly made up of fledglings—went into the tunnels in this basement,” Marx reported to Stark, Shaunee, and me from the second-floor Philtower office that the TPD had commandeered.
“So, they’re really trapped?” I said.
Marx nodded grimly. “They are. We blocked all exits from the Atlas tunnel. They have to go out the way they came in. And we double-checked the door between the Philtower and Philcade. It’s been locked for years from the Philcade side, and it’s definitely still secure. That’s the only exit from the short Philtower tunnel system. Again, they have to go out the way they went in.”
“It’s sunrise,” Stark said, wiping a weary hand across his face and sitting in a chair as far away from the picture windows as possible.
“Close those blinds, please,” I said, squinting at the wall of windows.
“Sorry, Zoey. I wasn’t thinking.” Marx motioned for a uniformed officer to do so. “You okay, Stark?”
Stark nodded. “I’ll be fine. The cloud cover is thick enough that I can walk outside, with this over my head.” He tugged on his hoodie. “It’s just not comfortable.”
“How long are we going to wait before we move in?” I asked.
Marx spoke into the portable radio he pulled from his belt. “This is Marx. Ready to go at the Atlas?”
“Roger. Ready to go,” came the crackly response.
Marx glanced at the mixed group of TPD officers and House of Night Warriors. Several of the cops held dangerous-looking equipment that, given Shaunee’s obsessive staring, could only be flamethrowers. The rest had shotguns. Really big shotguns. The Warriors were armed with the ancient weapons we preferred—swords of different sizes and from different eras, as well as bows and long, evil looking lances.
“Ready to go?” he asked them.
As a group they nodded.
“Okay, briefly, we coordinate our attack with our people at the Atlas. We go to the tunnels at the same time. Give them an opportunity to surrender. If they don’t take it—we take them out,” Marx said. “Whatever happens, if you are human, do not let any of those creatures bite you.”
“You said the fledglings are all here in the Philtower tunnel?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re pretty sure only full vampyres entered the Atlas. The fledglings were pretty easy to tell from the vampyres. They were staggering by the time they got inside.”
“That’s because they can’t stay conscious after sunrise,” I said.
“Stark and Darius already briefed us. We understand.” Marx eyed his men. “There will be a bunch of fledglings passed out inside the tunnel. They can’t wake while the sun’s out. They’re harmless. Ignore them while we deal with the vampyres. Then we can secure the fledglings.” He glanced at me. “You want them taken to the House of Night, correct?”
“I do.”