Walker unrolls a stack of maps onto the kitchen table. “Everyone, please take a look.” We all gather around. On the top map, the dark sand of the Gray Sea stretches for miles. Here and there, lines of black rock break up the dreary desert. Walker points to one particularly large wall of dark stone. “Our bunker’s hidden right here.”

My stomach sinks. That’s my new home away from home, for a few days at least. So. Freaking. Weird.

Walker’s finger follows the line of dark stone. “Behind the rock wall, there’s a huge dune.” His fingertip starts at the top of the stone wall, slides down a long ramp-like dune, and ends far off in the desert.

Lincoln nods. “There may be good cover there, if we need it.”

“Exactly.” Walker taps the dune’s crest. “This ridge was designed for snipers to protect the bunker entrance.”

Walker points to the bottom of the rock wall. “The bunker’s entrance is down here.”

Images from my dreamscapes flash through my mind. “Is the bunker’s door a kind of big circle in the sand that opens with fire?”

“Yes, it is.” Walker’s coal-black eyes focus on mine. “Was that in one of your dreamscapes?”

“In all of them, actually.” Although what was so wrong with Verus sitting down and explaining everything to me like a normal person? I mean, other than breaking her promise to my mother, which she basically did anyway. Sneaky Verus.

Walker points to the spot on the desert floor where the bunker entrance is hidden. “We’ll need four people to stand at each of the four points of the compass. When your four sets of hands touch the sand at the same time, a circle of fire will appear. The bunker door will slowly rise from there.”

Cissy chews her fingernail. “Do we need gloves or anything?”

Walker shakes his head. “The bunker’s encased in angel fire to block pure demons. It won’t burn you.”

I open my mouth, ready to say that the bunker’s fire never burned me in my dreamscapes. Then I realize I’m a soul-swapping part-archangel super-being who may not be subject to the typical laws of physics. I sigh. My ongoing quest of personal discovery has officially hit a dead end. I know who I am, the Scala Heir, but I’m not too excited about that fact. Moving souls? Becoming a target for every creep who wants to rule the afterlife? Being more of a freak than I was already? Not sure I’m up for any of that. Staying hidden sounds like a great plan, maybe a permanent one.

Mom sets her hands on her hips. “The bunker protects from ghoul or demon attacks. If quasis and ghouls are inside, then ghouls can create portals in and out. If no ghouls are within, quasis open the main door manually.”

Lincoln lets out an appreciative ‘humph.’ “Clever security system.”