The elevator came to a stop, gravity pulling me and my queasy stomach down for a fraction of a second before the doors slid open to reveal a long, white-tiled hallway. As soon as the opening was large enough, I darted between the doors. Being underground, being here, about to speak to Mott … I’d avoided this for so long. And now the walls closed in on me.

Andy joined me a second later. “This way,” he said, walking ahead of me.

I fell in step behind him, struck by the complete stillness and hush, like we had stepped into a vacuum of space. A faint chemical scent, similar to rubbing alcohol, hung in the air. Lab doors were evenly spaced, all with keypads and no windows. It suddenly seemed more like Fort Knox than a lab.

“Here we are.” Andy slid his key card into the slot attached to a door.

It was now or never. And I’d come too far to back out now. With a deep breath, I entered the lab as Andy clicked the door closed behind me.

He was here somewhere, lost in the cavernous space of stainless steel, lab tables, cabinets, and beakers. One corner of the lab looked like a hospital room, complete with a wall of one-way viewing glass. But what stunned me into stillness was the god-like being lying on the hospital bed secured in a series of straps. He was male, a red-haired throwback to the time of Viking warriors. A being so perfect he could be none other than Adonai, an Elysian divinity. He wore a white T-shirt and blue-and-white-striped pajama pants. His feet were bare. IVs stuck into the veins in his arm and the top of his right hand. Equipment monitored his breathing and brain patterns.

What the hell was this?

Abruptly, the Adonai turned his head and opened his eyes, staring directly at me. My heart stopped. His gaze bored into mine like twin heat-seeking missiles fueled by intense blue flame. An arched brow cocked. “Like what you see?” he asked in a husky voice ripped with contained rage.

A bang made me jump. Jesus! The metallic echo sent a shot of adrenaline through my nerves as someone ground out, “Mother—”

“Ahem!” Andy cleared his throat.

Shuffling. Another bang.

Titus Mott poked his head from behind one of the lab tables opposite the mock hospital room, slapped his hands on the table, and pushed to his feet. He grimaced as he rubbed a spot on the back of his head, messing his thick brown hair so that some of it stood up straight. It made him look like he’d just gotten out of bed.

“She’s here, Doctor,” Andy said.

“What?”

Andy motioned to me. “Detective Madigan.”

And just like that, I suddenly became the kid introduced to class mid-year. Standing in front of twenty faces and praying to be accepted and liked.

Mott adjusted his glasses. The frames were made of light wire and gave him an edgy, hip look. He was young for what he’d accomplished so far in his life. An interview he’d done with Forbes magazine said he was forty-eight. There was just the faintest hint of graying at his left temple. He hadn’t shaved in at least a day, maybe two.

He adjusted his lab coat, slipped something in his pocket, and then approached me with his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Detective. Really good.” He shook my hand warmly, his smile genuine.

This was going a long way toward relieving my anxiety. Now if the Adonai would stop his creepy ogling, I’d actually feel somewhat normal. “I’m glad you still remember me.”

He motioned to Andy. “You can go, Andy. Thank you.” Andy nodded and quietly left the room. “How about we go into my office?”

With a quick glance at the Adonai, I followed Mott. I wanted to like the man who had saved my life, but the lab rat on the table was making it really difficult.

Mott’s office wasn’t the room behind the glass, but a far corner with a small rug, well-worn couch, and leather chair. An old, scratched-up coffee table sat in the center of the rug. “This is my home away from home,” he said, sitting on the couch with a sigh as the cushion gave in to his weight. “Please sit. You want coffee, tea, bottled water, soda?”

“No, thanks.” I sat on the leather chair and waited for him to lean over the arm of the couch, open the small fridge, and grab a can of soda for himself. Granted, the reason for coming was to talk about me, but I found myself asking, “Who’s the Adonai on the table?”

Mott popped the tab and the can hissed. “His name is Llyran.”

“And is Llyran volunteering to be your lab rat?” Nosy question, but I had to ask. Something felt very wrong about the situation.

“Llyran is a Level Ten felon, Detective. It was either this or execution under Federation Law. He chose this.”

His words stunned me into silence. A Level Ten felon was as bad as they came. Serial killer. Beyond help, beyond reformation, and unable to live a life sentence among others because he’d kill whoever came close enough. Stunned didn’t even begin to cover it. Looks were deceiving, and I was the first person who should know that.

Our ancestors may have thought Elysia was heaven, but in reality it didn’t come close to our pristine ideals and beliefs. It was a world just as diverse as our own. And just like Earth and Charbydon, Elysia had its good and its evil, and all the gray matter in between. But, damn, it was hard to get past the looks sometimes. It was easier to believe a goblin like Auggie was evil than an angelic-looking being like Llyran.

“What are you using him for?” I still didn’t like the fact that the man I’d held in such high regard was using another living being for science.

“Well,” Titus said, leaning forward, eager to talk shop. “As you know, the nobility from both dimensions are the most powerful, the hardest to defeat. The Nitro-guns and Hefties I created for law enforcement do nothing but stun them for a moment, even on high settings. With Llyran, I’m searching for a way to neutralize his power. In essence, to make him like us long enough, I’m hoping, to catch and detain. The hard part is identifying the genes that give him his power and then creating a viable weapon capable of attacking or subduing those genes. So far we’ve been successful at large force field containment, which is how Llyran was caught, but out in the field, as you know, a serviceable, easy-to-use weapon will make all the difference.”

I was suitably impressed. Without Titus Mott and his inventions, we’d never have a fighting chance. Of course, if it hadn’t been for his meddling and eventual discovery of Elysia and Charbydon, the off-worlders never would’ve come out of the woodwork and into mainstream society. At least he was trying to make up for it now.

“Sounds like you have your work cut out for you,” I finally said.

He dipped his head in agreement and then took a long drink of his soda. “So what brings you to my lab, Detective?”

Here it comes.

I drew in a deep breath. “Actually—” Just breathe. It’s no big deal. “I was hoping you could tell me about that night.” Goose bumps lifted the hairs on my arms. “The night I died.”

Thank God. I’d gotten the words out. The small of my back grew hot. I resisted the urge to rub my arms and instead focused on Mott. I was a detective, after all. Part of my job was to study body language, and it was hell of a lot easier to focus on him and forget about my own haywire reactions.

His elbows settled on his knees, which touched the edge of the coffee table. He tapped two fingers on the table. “Wow.”

I bristled. “Wow, what?”

After a thoughtful pause, he said, “After all these months, I didn’t think … just a surprise, that’s all.” He scratched his stubble, studying me with candid, scientific thoroughness. “Well, you’re looking none the worse for wear.”