Page 88 of Nanny and the Beast

We drive in silence until the lights begin to fade.

There’s a shift in the air.

He parks in front of a seedy-looking bar.

“We’re here,” he announces.

“Thisis the location?” I ask.

“Yeah, come on.”

I step out of the car and stare at the bar’s bright neon sign. This doesn’t look like one of the usual places where the Resistance holds their meetings, but it’s not the first time I’ve been surprised by their approach.

Alaric and I walk toward the building. Instead of entering it, he takes me to the back.

We step inside an elevator. He presses the button for the third floor, but the elevator plunges down instead. A few seconds pass. We’re still moving down.

“What if someone actually wanted to go to the third floor?” I ask Alaric.

“There is no third floor,” Alaric says. “And someone who’s not here for the Resistance meeting wouldn’t even be able to enter the elevator.”

He points at the tiny pinhole camera above the elevator doors. We’re being watched.

I glance at my watch. We’ve been in this elevator for almost two minutes now.

The doors finally open, revealing a parking lot that could only be described as a motorhead’s wet dream. It’s filled with top-of-the-range Ferraris, limited edition Aston Martins, and vintage Rolls Royces.

“There’s a secret road in the city that leads directly to the parking lot,” Alaric explains.

“Why didn’t we take it?”

“Because you kept saying we were being followed,” he says. “I didn’t want to risk it in case you were right.”

We enter another elevator. This one isn’t subtle at all with the security measures. After scanning our IDs and invitations, we’re made to stand in front of a retina scanner.

Once the security measures are complete, the elevator doors close.

We plunge into the earth once more. It’s another full minute before the doors open to reveal the actual location of the meeting.

It’s a pristine open space located a couple of thousand feet underneath the dingy bar. Dark wooden paneling lines the walls, and golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on everybody below. Men and women are standing in groups. The air hums with quiet conversation.

Subconsciously, I find myself searching for a certain scent—cupcakes. Lately, the sweet aroma seems to follow me no matter where I go.

But I don’t smell her scent here.

The most likely explanation is that she wears a popular woman’s perfume. Or maybe it’s just her skin, the scent so embedded in her pores that it’s become a part of her now. I can’tcount the number of times I wanted to bury my face against her neck to see for myself.

“Dude, snap out of it,” Alaric hisses from beside me. “You look like a serial killer about to go on a rampage.”

“Where do we sit?” I ask him.

“We don’t sit yet,” he says. “We have so many people to say hi to first.”

“Nope,” I say, walking away from him before he can pull me into unwanted conversations like he always does. I’m really not in the mood for small talk tonight.

There’s a giant circular table in the center of the hall. I find the spot with my name on it and sit down.

I check my phone. There are signal blockers in here, so I don’t have access to the internet. But I do have access to the pre-downloaded videos from my home’s security feed.

---