Page 183 of Bound By Fire
The footsteps stop outside my door.
There’s the rasp of a key in a lock, and then a heavier sound as the bolt slides back. The door swings open.
I look over there. Two female guards stand in the doorway. One is shifter-tall and broad through the shoulders. The other is human, shorter than me, with a sharp face and her hair scraped back so tight it pulls her brows up at the corners.
“Dr. Keller,” the tall one says. “On your feet. You’re coming with us.”
I sit up. My legs feel strange. Too light, like they belong to someone else.
“Where?”
“Just stand up, please.”
I do as they say and stand.
The shorter one steps into the cell. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”
The cuffs go on. They’re not tight like last night.
“Let’s go.”
I walk between them down the corridor. The light is harsh, and doors line both walls, all the same gray, all closed. I wonder if any of them have someone behind them. I wonder if Magma is in one of them somewhere. I want to ask, but I don’t.
We go through one set of doors that has to be buzzed open. Then another. Then up a short ramp into a different corridor, wider, with linoleum instead of concrete. The shorter guard walks slightly ahead. The tall one walks behind me. Neither of them speaks to me again.
At the end of the second corridor, the tall one keys a code into a panel beside a heavy door. The door clicks open.
She holds it open with one hand and gestures me through with the other.
“Inside, please.”
Here we go again.
The interrogation room is the same one as last night. I was brought here for questioning after they processed me.
A camera blinks in the corner.
Vance is already in the chair across the table. It’s the same shifter as yesterday. The same male who interrogated me for nearly two hours.
His hair is buzzed close to his scalp, dark with a fleck of silver at the temple, and he has a face that looks like it has been broken at least twice and reset by someone who was in a hurry. His eyes are a pale blue.
“Dr. Keller.” He gestures to the chair opposite him. “Have a seat.”
The tall guard unlocks the cuffs and clips them to her belt. I rub my wrists and sit.
The shorter guard steps back and stands beside the door. The tall one goes to the other corner. Vance opens a folder in front of him.
He looks the same as he did yesterday. It’s the same dark uniform, the same name tag, the same patient, unreadable face. He has a paper cup of coffee in front of him. The folder is thicker than it was yesterday.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He nods once, like he was expecting that. Then he turns the folder so the open page is angled toward me.
“This interview is being recorded.” He makes a show of switching a recorder on. A light starts blinking. “I’m going to take you through some of the same ground we covered yesterday.”
Of course he is.
