“Peri Reed. I work for Opti.” She risked a glance at Jack. “Who sent you?”

The woman gingerly felt her back. “You summoned me, remember?” and then she went pale. “Wait, wait, wait. Something is wrong.” Her gaze went to Jack as the man laughed in his drunken stupor, facedown on the floor, then back to Peri. “I can’t feel the ley lines. What did you do to me?”

The woman scrambled to her feet, and Peri backed up, Glock aimed at the intruder’s chest. “I said, don’t move.”

But the woman looked down at her black clubbing dress, anger shifting to disgust. “Crap on toast. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of sequins?”

“I’ll give you the name of my cleaner,” Peri said, moving to stay between her and the door when the woman went to look out the windows, hands on her hips as she took in the skyline. Here Peri was with a weapon ready to blow the woman away, and she was crabbing about her dress? Damn. I think I’m starting to like her.

“Where are we?” the tall woman asked, almost ignoring Peri.

Peri’s jaw clenched as anger and sympathy warred in her, the feeling of having found a kindred spirit winning. How often had she stood at a window, asking the very same thing? Peri lowered the Glock. “You’re not here for the accelerator?”

She turned. “How many times do I have to say it? You summoned me. Where am I?”

Peri put the safety back on. “Detroit.”

Fear crossed the woman’s features. It was the first moment of doubt Peri had seen in her, and it set Peri back. “No,” the woman said, touching the glass as she looked out. “Detroit? It’s so . . . sparkly. Alive.” She turned, her alarm almost hidden. “This is reality, right? Not the ever-after?”

Peri eyed her from under a lowered brow. “I’ve never heard Detroit called that before.” She checked her safety and tucked the Glock in the back of her waistband. She hated putting it there as she couldn’t reach it if she was pinned to the floor, but she wasn’t going to entirely trust this yet. Something weird was going on, and Peri shifted to get between her and Jack. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“Rachel. Rachel Morgan,” the woman said as she turned back to the window. “And I don’t work for anyone but myself. That can’t be Detroit. It was destroyed in the Turn.”

She was an independent. Not good. Hired by whoever gave her the most money. “The what?” Peri went to nudge Jack awake, but he only groaned and pushed her away, his face flat against the floor. “You mean the exodus?” she said. “Not everyone left. Those who stayed fixed her.”