"What do you mean by that? And why are you so angry?"
The doors swished shut behind the three of us, and the lift dropped rapidly to the basement levels.
"I'm angry because I hate having to bring you in on a Directorate case, and because Riley is going to kick my ass over it. Not that I have any choice. And what I meant was, we have ten minutes to set you up for your meeting with our killer."
"Hang on—you never mentioned any of this."
"Because we didn't have the time. And I did tell you to hurry."
"Yes, but you told me he wanted me on the case, not that he wanted to meet with me again." My voice was defensive, hinting at anger but also fear. The very last thing I wanted to do was to meet the no-face stranger again.
"As I said, he's offering a challenge."
The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. The thick smell of vampire swept in, and my stomach began to knot.
Rhoan strode from the lift. I followed somewhat reluctantly. "So why ring to offer a challenge, and then demand to meet me? And where the hell does he want to meet?"
But even as the question left my lips, I knew. We'd meet on the astral plane again, where the Directorate could employ no traps and he could not be killed.
Rhoan confirmed what I was thinking, then added, "He wouldn't give us the details, Ris. He wants you, and only you."
I rubbed my arms and tried to ignore the trepidation that crawled through me. This could only end badly. I didn't know enough about the astral plane or hunting madmen to avoid the trouble I sensed I was stepping into.
God, as if I didn't have enough on my plate already.
I followed him silently through the maze of corridors. Though I'd never been down here before now, I'd learned enough over the years to be able to draw a rough floor plan of the place. If the ten levels aboveground were the public face of the Directorate, then the five below were the heart. The majority of the guardians were housed and trained down here, and it was also where the liaisons—the people who made the guardians' reports legible, who catered to their everyday needs, and who gave them their assignments—operated.
Rhoan slapped his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open. Three other people were already there, but only two looked up as we entered. The first—a brown-eyed, heavy-jowled woman in her mid-fifties—was a stranger. The second, a tall, dark-haired werewolf with handsome features, was Harris West, who'd been recruited by the Directorate after he'd helped Riley out of a deadly situation; I had met him before.