Origin (Lux 4)
Page 59This plan did not sound good to me. There was nothing but a desert wasteland outside, probably for a hundred miles, but I nodded. “Well, we know they won’t kill you. You’re too awesome.”
“You betcha. Ready?”
I wanted to say no, but I said yes, and then Archer hit the button for the ninth floor. As the elevator jerked into movement, my heart pounded.
It stopped on the fifth floor.
Crap. We had not planned on that.
“It’s okay,” Archer said. “This is how you access building B.”
Terror pooled in my stomach as we stepped out into the wide hallway. All of this could be a trap or another setup, but there was no going back.
Archer placed his hand on my shoulder, like he normally would when he was escorting me around. If that made Daemon unhappy, he didn’t show it. His expression remained in the cool disdain that was all Nancy.
There were people in the hall, but no one really paid any attention to us. We made it to the end of the hall and got in a wider elevator. Archer hit a button marked B, and the elevator kicked into gear. Once it stopped, we entered another hall and went straight across to yet another elevator, and then he chose the ninth floor.
Nine floors underground. Ugh.
Mouth dry, I willed my heart to slow down before I had a panic attack. Within seconds, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Archer stepped aside, letting Daemon and me walk out first. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him hit the stop button.
The elevator had opened into a small, windowless lobby. Two soldiers were posted in front of double doors. They straightened immediately when they saw us.
“Ms. Husher. Officer Archer,” the one on the right said, nodding. “May I ask why you’re bringing her down here?”
Daemon stepped forward, clasping his hands together in total Nancy fashion. “I thought it would be a good idea for her to see our greatest achievements in their own environment. Perhaps it will give her a better understanding of things here.”
I had to clamp my mouth shut, because the words that came out of his mouth were so like Nancy that I wanted to laugh. Not a normal laugh, either, but that crazy, hysterical giggling kind.
The guards exchanged looks. Mr. Talkative stepped forward. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
“Are you questioning me?” said Daemon, in the snootiest Nancy voice ever.
I bit down on my lower lip.
“No, ma’am, but this area is closed to all personnel that don’t have clearance and…and to guests.” Mr. Talkative glanced at me and then Archer. “That was the order you gave.”
With each heartbeat, I knew we were running out of time. The hand on my shoulder tightened, and I knew even Archer was thinking that.
“Y-Yes, but this goes against protocol,” Mr. Talkative stuttered. “We can’t—”
“You know what?” Daemon took a step forward, glancing up. I didn’t see any cameras, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. “Protocol this.”
Daemon/Nancy threw out his hand and a bolt of light erupted from his palm. The arc of energy split in two, one smacking into the chest of Mr. Talkative and the other into the silent guard. They went down, smoke wafting up from their bodies. The smell of burned clothing and flesh hit my nose.
“Well, that’s one way of doing it,” Archer said drily. “No turning back now.”
Daemon/Nancy cast him a look. “Can you open these doors?”
Archer stepped forward and bent. The red light on the panel flipped green. The airtight seal popped, and the doors slid open.
Half expecting someone to jump out and point a gun at our faces as we walked into an open area of the ninth floor, I held my breath. No one stopped us, but we did get a couple of weird looks from the staff milling about.
The floor was a different layout than the ones I’d seen, shaped like a circle with several doors and long windows. In the middle was something that reminded me of a nursing station.
A chill snaked down my spine. The gun felt way too heavy in my hand.
“Well, that isn’t creepy or anything.” Daemon glanced at me. “Stay close.”
I nodded, and then we started around the station toward the double doors with two tiny windows. Archer was right behind us.
A man stepped out. “Ms. Husher—”
Daemon threw his arm out, hitting the guy in the chest with a broad swipe. The man went up in the air, white lab coat flapping like the wings of a dove before he smashed into the window of the center station. The glass splintered but did not break as the man slid down.
Someone screamed; the sound was jarring. Another man in a lab coat rushed toward the opening to the station. Archer spun around, catching him around the neck. A second later, a blur of white shot past my face and smacked into the opposite wall.
Chaos erupted.
Archer blocked the entrance to the station, which must’ve had stuff we didn’t want them to get access to, sending one person flying after another until the remaining staff had huddled against the door—the door we needed to get into.