Page 87 of Fae Devoted
“I’m going, I’m going.” Finally able to think again, she soaked in every detail of the facility. And itwasAbby’s facility, this place couldn’t be anything else. Were the Glaofin twins somewhere in the building? Was Jeremiah? She inhaled, and the familiar copper and salt smell of humans assailed her senses, but she didn’t detect the scent of a Ferwyn—or a witchling—lingering in the underground passages. Johnnie didn’t know if she should be relieved or not.
She stepped onto a concrete floor and underneath a running track of fluorescent lights, the austere hallway ending in a T about fifty feet ahead. Although there was nothing to distinguish which US branch they represented, her escorts were dressed in military fatigues. They marched her to the end of the tunnel, and half the soldiers turned left while they urged her to the right. Johnnie’s innate sense of direction told her they were headed toward the barn. They walked another twenty yards, passing a line of closed doors and mounted cameras. The lead soldier entered the room on the right, and the man behind her pushed her into a scene straight from a movie set. It had a narrow table, two metal chairs, a long mirror graced an entire wall side, and harsh overhead lighting.
Oh Mylanta, this is bad. Breathe, Johnnie, breathe.
“Sit.” The oldest of the three men still accompanying her pulled out a chair. It was made of steel. She lifted her chin and sat. The scant amount of ore present in the seat was nothing compared to the iron bracelets inflaming her wrists. The young soldier she mentally dubbedbully boyfrowned at her lack of reaction.
“Flanders.” The man she assumed was the senior officer sat in the chair diagonal to her’s. “Go inform the Director we have an unexpected guest.”
“Yes, sir.” Bully boy saluted and left the room. Definitely military.
The third moved to stand guard at the entrance, his expression blank.
“Name?” The gray-haired human folded his hands on the tabletop, hard blue gaze intent on her face.
Stall, stall, stall.
“Why am I here?” Johnnie’s metal cuffs thunked as she set them on the scarred wooden surface, palms up. The angry, swollen flesh peeking over the wristlets was bright red against her fair skin. “And why am I wearing these?”
The guard at the door winced, the reaction slight but noticeable. It was gone as quickly as it came, his features returning to an unemotional mask.
Her interrogator leaned forward. “Name?”
“I didn’t see any private property signs posted, but all my focus was on the mature buck I was hunting. I know it’s not technically rifle season yet, but he was a twelve-pointer. I’ll understand if you have to report me to the game warden though, and I apologize if—”
A sharp knock and the sympathetic soldier moved to allow a slender-framed human who looked to be in his mid-sixties wearing glasses and a rumpled gray suit into the room.
“Sergeant Major.” The mysterious man acknowledged the officer, but his attention was on Johnnie. “What do we have here?”
“The female was found on grounds, and she was armed.”
“Well, how else would you shoot a—”
“A she-wolf?” He pushed the wire-rimmed glasses up the narrow bridge of his nose, thin lips turned down as he addressed the sergeant. “She made it close enough to the ward to trigger the alarm, and no one noticed?”
He tensed before answering, “Yes, sir.”
“You may leave.”
“Mr. Director, if I could suggest—”
“You may not.” The Director gestured to the other soldier. “Parker, remove the cuffs.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, fishing what looked like a penlight from a pocket on his thigh.
“Sir, I don’t advise—”
“We’ll be fine.” His gaze returned to her, his brown eyes soft and kind. “Won’t we, my dear?”
“Um…yes?” Nodding, Johnnie attempted to appear sincere while trying to figure out the man’s angle. Good cop, bad cop?
Parker approached, and the sergeant exited in a rigid huff.
“Keep your hands still.” The remaining soldier’s voice was as flat as his expression.
“Okay.” She loosely curled her fingers but otherwise didn’t move when he depressed one end of the slender pen and pointed the resulting laser light over the three-inch seam of the iron band on her left wrist. The magnetically closed bracelet opened with a click, and she bit her cheek. He ran the beam over the right one, and it fell open, the unlatched edge scraping against blistered flesh. Johnnie couldn’t suppress a hiss of pain.
Parker’s eyes met hers, his throat bobbing on a hard swallow.
