the engine running. Ulfen opened the back door for me. I climbed in, Jake right behind me. The door slammed shut, and Ulfen climbed in the passenger seat.
“Downtown,” he told the driver.
The man nodded and we were off.
Jake lay across the seat and rested his head on my lap. His massive body occupied most of the space while I was pushed against the door. I didn’t mind, though. It felt warm and cozy and safe.
No one said anything during the fifteen-minute drive. When we arrived at a tall building close to Busch Stadium, we went into an underground parking lot, and the driver deposited us right in front of an elevator. We climbed in, and Ulfen pressed the top number on the row of buttons and waved a security card in front of a reader.
The elevator went straight up without stops, and it opened into a lavish foyer. He led us to a luxurious living room furnished with white leather couches overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city.
“Sit, Ms. Sunder.” He pointed toward one of the sofas, then disappeared into an adjacent room.
I did as I was told, still feeling addled and not quite myself, like I’d just woken up from a long nap and needed a double espresso.
“This place is something, huh?” I said.
Jake hopped on the sofa and, again, laid his head on my lap.
A well-stocked bar was tucked in a corner of the room. I sighed. “I wouldn’t mind a stiff drink that would actually dull the edge for more than two seconds. I mean... the stuff tastes good, but it’s pretty much useless,” I said, staring longingly at the bottles lining the glass shelves against the wall.
Ulfen returned, dressed in slacks and a button up shirt. A pile of clothes rested in his hands. He set them on the sofa across from where we sat and walked back toward the bar.
“I've got just the thing for you, Ms. Sunder.” He poured a red liquid in three tumblers, walked back to the sofa, and set them on the glass coffee table between us. He pushed two of the tumblers in our direction, then sat and sipped from his, tiredly rubbing his neck.
I picked up the red drink and took a sip. It smelled of oak and earthy moss, and burned all the way down. I coughed and thumped my chest. Warmth spread through my body, and I felt my shoulders relax a bit.
“That’s some good stuff,” I said. “What is it?”
“It’s called Oakfire. It’s not cheap.” He swirled the liquid, glancing at it against the light.
“Figures. I also want one of those shifting rings, but they’re not cheap either.”
Ulfen raised an eyebrow. “Shifting rings are not only expensive but rare.” He wiggled his fingers to show he didn’t have one.
“Oh.” Eric hadn’t mentioned that.
He set his glass down. “Well, did you find anything out?”
“That your son is a coward,” I said. “He left as soon as the battle began.”
“I noticed.”
I sighed and set the tumbler down next to Jake’s. “Let me change first, then I’ll try to explain what I saw when I touched his pendant.” I gestured toward the pile of clothes.
Ulfen handed them over, and as I stood, he pointed toward the corridor to my back. “There’s a powder room that way.”
I found the room and locked the door behind me. The space was ample and well-stocked with embroidered hand towels and tiny soaps in a porcelain dish right by a large vessel sink.
I picked a pair of sweats and a baggy T-shirt and felt glad to be rid of the silky robe. It had felt icky against my skin for some reason. One hundred percent cotton was more my thing.
The memory of my glowing body flashed before my eyes. Neither Jake nor Ulfen had brought it up, so maybe I’d been the only one able to see my Christmas tree impersonation. I really hoped so because I would have no idea what to tell them if they started asking questions. I needed to talk to Damien before I drew any conclusions. He was the only one who could help explain my situation. I pushed the memories away, stamping them down flat at the bottom of my list of things to worry about. They probably needed to be at the very top, but I just couldn’t deal with them right now.
“Jake,” I said when I returned to the living room, “I left the rest of the clothes by the sink. Go change.