Page 107 of Shield of Fire

I resealed the box, pulled the bed back over it, and then rose.

Mathi stepped aside to let me pass. “And just what are we doing with that?”

“We are going to unlock an invisible door.” I placed the token on the bench, flicked on the kettle, and then shoved a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. I might have had a good breakfast—in more ways than one—but the regression session had left me hungry.

He reached out for the token, but I snatched it away with a quick “Don’t.”

His eyebrows rose. “Why?

“Because it remains active, and it’s primed to send an alert if anyone but me uses it.”

Thankfully, it had never reacted to my touch, nor had it ever sent either man a warning of my approach.

But then, they’d always liked being surprised.

I hoped they still did.

Hoped like fuck they still used the place, so I could watch the shock spread through their smug expressions as I took their asses down.

“And this invisible door will lead us to our elves?”

“Hopefully, if they’re still using the place, and I can’t see why they wouldn’t be. Only four of us knew about the place—at least when I knew them—and Gilda’s dead.”

“Meaning you’ve remembered your relationship with Halak?”

“And Keelakm—or Mkalkee, as he’s actually known—though it took the help of a memory regression mage,” I quickly updated him. “This token won’t let you or anyone else in, but I can do an initial scout and see if the place remains in use.”

“And if he’s there? Or has set alarms that your token can’t get past?”

“I’ll have my knives, and you and Sgott will be close by.”

“Sgott? Why not my father? He’s the day commander?—”

“And Sgott is basically my stepdad. Do you honestly think he’d let anyone else be in charge of an operation involving me?”

“Well, no but?—”

“There’s also the point that your father doesn’t do street operations anymore and I’m not the most trusting soul when it comes to operatives I don’t know.”

Especially right now, when it was becoming ever more obvious that the people behind the hoard theft and Mom’s murder had contacts within the IIT.

The toast popped, and I quickly spread butter and peanut butter all over it. “You want a piece?”

“Always. But not of toast.”

I snorted. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

And sometimes by me.

“I do think there’s a couple of problems with your plan,” he added.

“Only a couple?” I leaned against the bench and bit into my toast. “Things are definitely on the up.”

He shook his head, his expression slightly annoyed. “I am being serious?—”

“Oh, so was I.”

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