It bothered me and again made me wonder who the real monsters were in all of this. The group I’d left back in Palm Springs was a hundred times more moral than Keith.

“Thank you, Miss Sage,” said Gray Bun, finishing up her notes. “You’ve been extremely helpful, and we’ll take this into consideration as we make our decision. You may go now. If you step into the hall, you’ll find Zeke waiting to take you out.”

It was an abrupt dismissal, but that was typical of Alchemists. Efficient. To the point. I gave a polite nod of farewell and one last glance at Keith before opening the door. As soon as it shut behind me, I found the hallway mercifully silent. I could no longer hear Keith.

Zeke, as it turned out, was the Alchemist who had originally led me in. “All set?” he asked.

“So it seems,” I said, still a bit stunned over what had just taken place. I knew now that my earlier debriefing on the Palm Springs situation had simply been a convenience for the Alchemists. I’d been in the area, so why not have an in-person meeting? It hadn’t been essential. This—seeing Keith—had been the real purpose of my cross-country trip.

As we walked back down the hallway, something caught my attention that I hadn’t noticed before. One of the doors had a fair amount of security on it—more so than the room I’d just been in. Along with the lights and keypad, there was also a card reader. At the top of the door was a deadbolt that locked from outside. Nothing fancy, but it was clearly meant to keep whatever was behind the door inside.

I stopped in spite of myself and studied the door for a few moments. Then, I kept walking, knowing better than to say anything. Good Alchemists didn’t ask questions.

Zeke, seeing my gaze, came to a halt. He glanced at me, then the door, and then back at me. “Do you want… do you want to see what’s in there?” His eyes darted quickly to the door we’d emerged from. He was low-ranking, I knew, and clearly feared getting in trouble with the others. At the same time, there was an eagerness that suggested he was excited about the secrets he kept, secrets he couldn’t share with others. I was a safe outlet.

“I guess it depends on what’s in there,” I said.

“It’s the reason for what we do,” he said mysteriously. “Take a look, and you’ll understand why our goals are so important.”

Deciding to risk it, he flashed a card over the reader and then punched in another long code. A light on the door turned green, and he slid open the deadbolt. I’d half-expected another dim room, but the light was so bright inside, it almost hurt my eyes. I put a hand up to my forehead to shield myself.

“It’s a type of light therapy,” Zeke explained apologetically. “You know how people in cloudy regions have sun lamps? Same kind of rays. The hope is that it’ll make people like him a little more human again—or at least discourage them from thinking they’re Strigoi.”