“Luke wasn’t the trusting type.” I swung around and led the way back to the other stairwell. The two spheres bobbed along several feet in front of us, their flickering light lending warmth to the cold white walls. “But then, liars and cheats rarely are.”

“So why would he trust Frederick, even after he’d infected him?”

I shrugged, pushed the stairwell door open, and directed my sphere upward. Once again, there was no indication that anything untoward waited on the next floor.

So why did that odd sense of unease suddenly ramp up several degrees? What did that innate part of me that sent me dreams of death sense that I could neither see nor hear?

I climbed the steps warily, one hand on the railing and the other clenched against the fire pressing against my fingertips. When we reached the next landing, I paused and carefully scanned the door. There didn’t seem to be any alarm or tripwire connected to it, and I couldn’t feel any sort of magic. Yet the feeling that something was very off was growing.

I glanced at Jackson. “Can you sense anything in there?”

“No. But just in case . . .” He drew a gun. “Ready?”

I nodded and flexed my fingers. He flung the door open with so much force, it slammed back against the wall and sent concrete dust flying. The crash echoed, a forlorn sound that spoke of emptiness.

Nothing jumped out at us. Nothing moved, not even rats, if there were indeed any here.

I sent the sphere in and flared it brighter. The darkness lifted, revealing a corridor directly opposite that ran the entire length of the building. Four doors led off it—two on this side, two on the other. I reported this to Sam, then glanced at Jackson. “Shall we split again?”

He shook his head. “Not with the bad vibes I’m getting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You are?”

“And you’re not?” He snorted. “Intuition aside, we’re right in the heart of the enemy’s territory. Said enemy might be dead, but I have no doubt he left a surprise or two behind.”

“Said surprise,” Sam cut in, “might have just activated. The door between the warehouse I’m in and the road beyond just slammed shut.”

“Are you picking up any sign of movement?” I asked. “Has the military been attacked?”

“We’re still catching interference on the cameras and monitoring equipment, so I can’t answer the first question, but the military reports no sign of life as yet.”

Meaning whatever Luke planned, it revolved around this place—especially since the slamming door seemed to coincide with our opening this one.

“Well, no matter what the bastard has planned, there’s little point in hanging about in this stairwell.”