Page 53 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse
“Oh, nothing.”
It would take about ten minutes to get back to Striker Hall by car, just enough time to unwind a little and enjoy Drevan’s company. I craved being close to him. I enjoyed torture, apparently.
“I would take you to the league directly. I can tell you’re tired,” Drevan said as the elevator descended, “but traveling through portals too often is not recommended for humans.”
“Grant mentioned that. Why?”
“It can cause extreme confusion and sensory overload. In some cases, it’s been known to cause… madness.”
“Oh, great! Just what I need.”
A moment later, we were in Drevan’s car after a delighted valet delivered it to us. I was sure he got to drive a lot of cool cars, but a Ferrari Spider had to be at the top of his list.
My phone buzzed as Drevan opened the passenger-side door for me. Drevan and I exchanged a glance as I lifted the cell and peered at the unknown number displayed on the screen.
“That’s him,” Drevan said. “That was quick. I thought it would take his indolent ass days to make up his mind. Go ahead, answer.”
I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button, followed by the speaker one. “Hello.”
“Um, is this Lucia Sunder?”
“Yes, it is.”
“T-this is Solar Hudson. You were there the day my sister…”
“Oh, hi!” I tried to sound surprised, but my acting abilities were nowhere near Lunar’s. I sounded stupid. “I’ve heard in the news that they haven’t found her yet. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, we have people looking for her, but no luck. Listen, I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. Do you think you could meet me?”
“Of course.”
“Can you come now?”
“Now?!” I really didn’t want to deal with him at that very moment. I was very tired. It was already 2 AM.
“Please, I’m desperate.”
Drevan nodded his head repeatedly.
I exhaled in defeat. “Yeah, sure. Where do you want me to meet you?”
He gave me the address, and a mere five minutes later we found ourselves in front of The Marquand Building, a twelve-story building on Madison Ave.
“Go on,” Drevan said. “I’ll be right there with you.”
I walked into the building. A man dressed in a dark blue uniform sat in front of a tall counter, looking half-asleep.
“How may I help you?” He asked in an unfriendly tone as he looked me up and down.
“I’m here to see Solar Hudson.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lucia Sunder.”
He wrinkled his nose, probably thinking I was here for a booty call. Without breaking eye contact, he picked up the telephone and dialed a three-digit number.
I glanced around the place, which was decorated in warm colors and looked stuffy as hell. A trickle of unease slid down my back as if someone were watching me. I shivered. I didn’t want to be here. Not at all.
