Did you get what you wanted? his voice whispered through my head, and my eyes grew heavy.

No, but it’s a start.

Mira…

I’m not part naturi, Danaus. They would never have survived the transformation, I replied, thinking of my three beloved makers and the care they had taken in making me into a First Blood nightwalker.

The similarity is…

Creepy, I finished. Too creepy.

I was confident that I wasn’t a naturi, that I had no relation to the naturi race. Yet, for the first time in my entire existence I was forced to wonder, had I truly been born human? Unfortunately, I doubted I would have the chance to find the answer to that question, since we flew to Peru tomorrow night.

Upon waking, I hit my head, banged my knee, and stubbed my toe all at the same time. I had forgotten that I was curled up in a trunk and not stretched out on a bed in Savannah. We had been somewhere over the Atlantic when I finally curled up in the trunk I brought along before hopping on a plane just outside the city. I hated the thing before I even climbed into it. It was cramped, and the only lock was on the exterior. I preferred my metal alloy, fireproof box with its double interior locks and silk lining. Unfortunately, I was once again traveling without my bodyguards, and I didn’t want to worry about Danaus trying to maneuver the coffin while trying to keep an eye on Shelly and Cynnia at the same time. Gabriel had offered to come along, but that would mean bringing Matsui along as well, and I wasn’t prepared to be asleep around my newest guardian. Trust came with time.

Now I was stuck with a trunk that Houdini would have felt at home in. I, on the other hand, needed to get the hell out of the thing before I developed an acute case of claustrophobia. Shifting as best as I could in the tiny space, I put my back into the lid and slowly pushed, testing to see if it was locked. I had the strength to force open the trunk anyway, but no desire to break the one lock on my only protection during the daylight hours for the next couple of days. Luckily, the lid offered no resistance.

Sighing as I stood, I instantly banged my head against a metal rod and wooden plank. Barely stifling a string of curses that were perched on the tip of my tongue, I hunched down and rubbed the top of my head as I looked around. The room was positively tiny, with an extremely low ceiling and a pair of sliding wood doors inches from my face. The curses escaped me this time in a rough whisper as I realized I was standing in a closet. As if waking up in a trunk wasn’t bad enough. No, Danaus had shoved me a closet.

With my teeth clenched, I slipped my fingernails into the crack between the door and the wall. Yet, I froze in the act of sliding the door open when I heard a doorknob turning in the next room. Someone was coming and it wasn’t Danaus. The hunter was already in the room, and by the sound of his soft, steady breathing, asleep on the bed. Sliding the door open without a sound, I smiled to see that the room was pitch-black except for the shaft of light that cut through it as the stranger entered.

The man with short black hair blinked against the inky darkness, waiting for his eyes to finally adjust to the gloom. I wasn’t about to give him the chance. Sweeping soundlessly across the room, I clamped my right hand on his throat and slammed him into the wall behind him. At the same time, I pushed the door shut, plunging the room back into total darkness. I could still see him clearly, but I knew he could see nothing of me.

“What are you doing here?” I snarled.

“I—I’m sorry I’m late,” he stumbled, his speech carrying a thick accent that made his words difficult to understand. “I had trouble getting away from the bar.”

“The bar? What are you talking about? Late for what? Who are you?”

“Let him go, Mira,” Danaus’s calm voice interjected before the man could speak.

Turning my head to the right, I saw Danaus kneeling on the bed, knife in hand. I hadn’t even heard him move.

“He was sneaking into the room,” I said. My grip had not changed. A little tighter and I would crush his windpipe.

“He’s from Themis.”

While not the most reassuring information, it was enough to buy him some time. Releasing the man’s throat, I stepped away, flipping on the overhead light as I walked to the opposite side of the room.

“Mira, this is Eduardo, one of the few Themis contacts in South America and the only one located in Peru,” Danaus explained.

When I reached the far corner of the room, I turned on my heel to face the man. I knew I didn’t look my best, but I hadn’t expected the violence of his reaction. Eduardo attempted to back up, but he was already against the wall so all he achieved was hitting the back of his head. His dark brown eyes widened and he quickly crossed himself with a shaking hand. A string of words escaped him, but they were spoken in neither English nor Spanish. I could only guess it was Quechua or one of the Highland dialects, but couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that those hushed words teased at memories in my brain of nights spent on Machu Picchu, sounding too similar to the dialect used by the Incans centuries ago. They had watched as I was tortured by the naturi, their hushed conversations swirling around me.

“Stop it!” I screamed, pressing the heels of my palms against my ears, wishing I could just as easily blot out the memories. “Shut up!” I closed my eyes and stepped backward until my back touched the wall. A second later my eyes popped open at the sound of a muffled footstep. Danaus was standing before me, a concerned look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded when I dropped my hands from my ears.

“Why is he here?” I asked, ignoring his question. He didn’t need to know I was terrified of old ghosts.

“He was to wake me before sunset,” Danaus replied. A frown still hovered over his lips, and I could see the worry in his eyes. I knew his thoughts without delving into his mind. He was wondering if I was finally going insane. And maybe I was. Being able to count the final minutes to your demise had to drive any creature a little mad. In just a matter of nights I would once again be standing on the mountain retreat of the Incans, the naturi on one side and the nightwalkers lined up on the other side, with me standing in the middle. The one hope of the nightwalkers to put an end to this war. My only complaint was that it was likely to kill me in the process.

“Send him away,” I whispered, letting my eyes fall shut. No words were spoken. The only sounds were the quick shuffle of feet, the rattle of the doorknob, and finally the slam of the door. Opening my eyes, I pushed away from the wall. Danaus stepped away from me, allowing me to walk over and slump in the only chair in the room.

Sitting in the sagging cushion chair with the faded green fabric, I let my eyes slowly take in the tiny room as he sat on the edge of the bed. Next to the closet was a rickety bureau that I had a feeling was made of pressboard instead of the oak it was supposed to resemble. A matching nightstand squatted next to the bed that dominated the room with its loud striped spread. There was one other door in the room, which I presumed led to the bathroom. The room was neat and clean, but it had a worn and weary feel to it, as if it had seen too many occupants in its long history. The one appeal it seemed to possess was the fact that there were no windows.

“You look like hell,” Danaus announced, shattering the silence. My eyes jerked back to his face to find him frowning at me.

“You sleep in a trunk shoved in a closet and see how you come out looking,” I snapped, not caring how bitchy I sounded. My gaze fell down to my T-shirt and leather pants, and I absently tried to smooth the wrinkles, but it was a futile gesture. I had a feeling they were now permanent.