“Oxford Center,” I heaved. “We can get out of here and the drones can…” I winced my next breath and spat blood. “…can camouflage us.”

“No. I can keep you safe here.”

I just kind of smiled, all gooey and delirious, letting him half-drag, half-carry me out of the fray. Hallways. Catwalks. My spinning eyes up at the greenhouse ceiling of this place. A meat-locker of an elevator that, for some reason, pitched us underground. I don’t remember much else before I blacked out.

*   *   *

Against the screens of my closed eyes, I could see the hazy form of a demon, its forked tongue flicking out to taste my fear. The thing dug its talon-tipped feet into my chest, keeping me from sitting up.

I opened my eyes to salt-white lights that blasted from a steel ceiling. My head lolled, my eyes trying to make sense of the surroundings. Bare gray walls. Bare gray floors. Steel tables. Black anacondas of thick wires that slithered from the ceiling into a hunk of rock on steel legs that glowed like the spires of Oxford. Hassan was a shadow in front of the machine, checking wire connections and spinning dials. I looked around for Yusuf until I realized, gut sinking, that it must’ve been Hassan who’d dragged me from the brawl in the hallway, not Yusuf. Give me a break. I’d had blood in my eyes and an earthquake in my brain.

I was also now tied to a reclining surgical chair with what looked like duct tape and extension cords.

“Where are we?” I burbled. “And why the fuck am I tied down?”

“Relax,” he called. “You’re secured so you don’t fall over and crack your head open. You probably have a concussion or twelve. The cerebral anti-inflammatory meds that I gave you need some time to work. I also cleaned the glass out of your wounds. You’re welcome.”

At my side a bloody wad of gauze clouded a rolling triage table. A sharp metallic funk that reminded me of Hassan’s maybe-toxic strawberry shortcake filled my mouth. The duct tape bit into my arms when I tested its strength.

“Don’t move too much,” he said, floating closer to me. “The ready-graft is adhering to your skin. Your face is busted up pretty badly.”

“Where’s Yusuf?”

“Not sure. He must be helping security with the doctor and your friend.” Hassan looked up, frowning. “Dr. Figueiredo seems… angrier than I pictured. I suppose you really shouldn’t meet your heroes.”

“Okay,” I huffed. “I appreciate you patching me up, but I have to get Yusuf and we have to catch an Envisioner ride out of here. A whole universe couldn’t hold Figueiredo and Kaori, never mind whatever room you guys are gonna lock them in.”