"Don't wipe off the Directorate, Misha. They're not the fools you and this man seem to think they are." I hesitated, then added, "We have Roberta in custody, you know."

That seemed to surprise him. "Then I hope you protect her well, because he will try to kill her."

"If he's killed Nasia, he's probably already tried to kill his mother."

"True. He always did intend Rupert to be the next Helki alpha."

Obviously, there was no love for Mom, despite the fact she helped him to the throne. "We have Rupert, as well."

"Then I hope you get the location of the lab fast, because he will burn it from their minds."

"Even if that happens, you still know the location. You can tell me."

"Only if I'm alive."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "And here I was thinking you were acting rather blase about the threat to your life."

"Blase? Far from it. Why do you think I've been living here twenty-four seven this last week?"

"Here?" I waved a hand toward the window. "With all this glass about? How is that safe?"

"That glass is bulletproof. I replaced the original glass when I had the building refitted a few years ago."

"Given the fact your master is into creating the weird and the not-so-wonderful, I wouldn't be banking on the fact that he can't get something in here."

"Whoever wants to come into this office has to do so through the Fravardin."

"All he really needs to do is set a bomb or use a rocket launcher, and you, this building, and the Fravardin are all dust." Taking me along with them if the attack happened right now.

"But that's not even remotely subtle. He cannot afford to draw attention to himself until his base of power is secure."

"Uh-huh." I reached behind me, grabbed Misha's hands and pulled them away. "Let me state what you already know—I'm not having sex with you tonight. Not here. Not until whatever is going to happen happens."

"We had a deal."

"That deal was us meeting at the Rocker, nothing more."

He grimaced, though the effect was rather spoiled by the glimmer in his eyes. I was guessing he pretty much thought he was the winner here anyway—because I was with him, and not with someone else.

"I knew I should have widened the terms of reference." He walked across the room to the bar. "He won't attack me here. He's well aware that I'm very secure in my foxhole."

He offered me a beer and I shook my head. "All foxholes have weaknesses, Misha."

"Not this one."

"You certain of that?"

"Yes."

It was at that precise moment that the lights went out.

Chapter Twelve

"So much for certainty," I muttered, blinking to switch to infrared vision.

"There must be a problem with the power," he said, walking across to the window.

Why, I have no idea. It was pretty much obvious by the rainbow beams of light invading the office that this building was the only one who'd lost light. "Yeah, it's been cut. There's no hum coming from the fridge, Misha."

He shrugged, and turned around to face me. "Whoever or whatever it is still has to get through the Fravardin."

I glanced toward the metal door. "What kills them?"

"White ash."

And I was betting the mastermind behind this operation knew that. "Warn them, then contact the guards downstairs, see if they've been taken out."

He stared at me for a moment, his body a mass of pulsing red against the bright backdrop of city lights. Then he nodded, and moved across to the desk. "Tümu, be prepared for an attack. They may have white ash, so tell everyone to be wary." He flicked another button, then added, "Security?"

No answer came. His gaze met mine. "They've been taken."

"Obviously." I slid the pack from my shoulder and took out the gun. "You have anything resembling a weapon in this office?"

"Besides teeth?" he said, baring them.

I shoved the extra rounds of bullets into my pockets, then ditched the pack. "I've got a feeling whatever is coming at us isn't going to be particularly fazed by a sharp pair of canines."

He grinned, and even from this distance I could smell his excitement. But then, he was a wolf, and when the male of our species was threatened, common sense usually flew out the window.

He pressed a button on the small console, then moved the bookcase behind him and pushed. It retracted into the wall, revealing a veritable arsenal. "I would suggest you take a laser—runt rifles are not good for close-in fighting. They take too long to reload."

I caught the one he tossed me. "Have long have you had the armory?"

"It's another of my refurbishment details."

"Don't suppose they also included a quick escape route should things go bad?"

He merely grinned. Meaning he probably did, but he wasn't going to show me unless it was absolutely necessary. "Have you got monitors on all the floors?"

"Yeah, but with the power out, they won't work."

Well, duh. I shook my head at my own stupidity. "So we just sit here and wait for whatever's coming at us to come."

"Basically, yes." He fired up the laser, and the gentle hum rode across the night, itching at my nerves.

I retreated to the pillar opposite the door, pressing my back against the cool concrete. My palms were sweaty, my heart was raising nine to the dozen. I welcomed the reaction, welcomed the fear that sat like a weight at the bottom of my stomach. Because it meant that, despite my fears, I was not yet like my brother.

The mechanical drone of a lift edged into the silence. Tension slithered through me, and my grip tightened on the laser. I glanced at Misha. "Why are the lifts working if all the power is out?"

"One lift is a fire lift—it has a separate power supply for situations like this."

"Great. Easy access for the bad guys."

"Unfortunately, yes. But it was a regulation I couldn't fight." He stood close to his arsenal, his back to the wall and a laser in either hand.

I licked my lips and turned my gaze back to the door. How strong was it? Given Misha's other refurbishments, it was probably reinforced, but would it be strong enough to keep out whatever was coming up in those lifts? Something deep inside said no, and fear rose another notch.

The mechanical drone of the lift stopped, and in the corridor beyond the door, chimes sounded, warning of the lift's arrival.

Sweat broke out across my brow, and the tension in my fingers started becoming cramps. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves as I waited for something to happen.

But for the longest of moments, nothing did.

Then an unearthly roar shattered the silence, and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. With it came the sound of fighting. Heavy thumps, flesh against flesh, the grunt of pain, more roars. The very walls seem to shudder under the force of the hits they were taking. Whether those hits were from weapons or from bodies being crashed against them, I couldn't say.

A red spot appeared in the middle of the door, white in the center flaring to red at the ever-growing edges. I stepped to one side, so that if—when—that laser broke through, it wouldn't skewer me in the middle.

"Lasering a hole in the door," Misha commented, his voice showing little concern. "They won't get far."

I swallowed to ease the dryness in my throat, then asked, "Why not?"

His eyes had an unearthly, almost fey, look about them. "Because those doors are rated against lasers."

"How long?"

"An hour."

Long enough for help to get here. Lord, I hoped Jack read his text messages sooner rather than later. "What's it rated against explosives?"

"If they use explosives, half the floor will come down on top of them. This is an old building, remember."

I remembered, but I was wondering if they would. "Why don't you call the police?"