"Are we underground?" she asked.
"No. This is just a really huge place. It's pretty easy to navigate after a few decades of trying."
"Only a few decades?"
He didn't catch the sarcasm in her voice; his gaze was trained on a woman clad only in a towel and trailed by steam, emerging from a door along one wall. Katie heard the sounds of laugher and talk from behind the closed door. They followed the woman, who looked like a fitness warrior if she ever saw one. The black-haired woman had dark Mediterranean skin and tattoos down her back and across her shoulders. She was barefoot.
"Ully, you're not supposed to be down here!" she called without turning in a distinct British accent.
"I have a reason," he said quickly. "I'm showing a new member to her room."
The woman turned, interest then puzzlement on her serene, chiseled features. Her eyes were almond shaped and clear amber.
"Not a warrior," she said, her questioning look lingering on Katie's neck. "Wow, really?"
"Yeah, really," Ully said. "Megan, this is Katie. Katie, Megan. Megan is one of the chic fighters."
"Female warriors," she said, raising an eyebrow in warning.
"I'm too wimpy to beat up," he reminded her.
"Right. I'll take her from here."
"But I --"
"Out."
Katie almost smiled at his fallen face as the stern voice of the Amazonian-size woman before them. Ully was too harmless to be angry at, like a kid brother. He turned and smiled at her, then retreated, lingering at the door to the shower room.
"You're…" Megan trailed off, as if debating what to say while trying to figure out what was standing in front of her.
"Short? Human? Disrespectful? Not accustomed to the rules of this world?" Katie supplied with no heat. "You can say it --Kris won't let me forget I'm a square in a round hole."
"I was going to say you look like a living doll," Megan said with a half smile.
Katie smiled in return, deciding she liked the Amazon with the British accent and wild tribal tattoos.
"Nearly all of us girls here are warriors. None of the Ancients have mates, though some other immortals do. C'mon. I need to change, then I'll show you around."
The women's wing was a beehive of activity. They crossed through a common area with a kitchenette and large, flat-screen TV, past a gym, a library, and a few other common rooms, and into the barracks area, which bustled with activity.