'Can I at least-' I pushed the Fixer away, and it let itself be moved. 'Ask where the base is? Its general location, I mean.'

'Why?' it asked, sounding vaguely amused. I frowned in annoyance.

'Because, if you people fuck up and Earth ends up under the rule of the Scaled Reich, cold may be their blood, I want to know where the hell I am, so I know in which direction to run!' I said, then pointed at Mia. 'Is this whole hall supposed to be her holding cell? It looks sturdy enough, I suppose, but...' But she doesn't have an undead's mental fortitude, to not go mad from boredom. Who knows how long this will last? And that's without counting the actual madness she's already suffering from...dammit. 'But it looks pretty bare,' I finished lamely.

The Fixer nodded approvingly. 'Right answer. And, to answer your question, this is the Antichamber-as in, anti-anything-that-would-attempt-to-interfere-with-it-and-its-occupants!' It smiled broadly. 'Cripes, but that sounded much less like word vomit in my head...' I bet most things did. 'I should really get better at talking...well, practice makes perfect!' It turned and left.

Trying to ignore the idea of the Fixer talking more to"'get better at it", I turned to Mia. But, before I could get a word out, it called after me.

'Silva! Why aren't you coming? The Antichamber's gonna be filled with every supernatural scaly we can get our hands on-don't worry, it expands to fit its contents. You have no reason to stay here, you're not crazy. Violently so, I mean.' This fucker was just in love with insulting people, wasn't it? 'C'mon. There are people you don't want to meet, but have to,' it said as we exited the Antichamber.

Yay, I thought, turning to wave at her, but not stopping. She waved back, shily, and it struck me how bizarre that looked for her.

People her age shouldn't have reasons to be afraid. She shouldn't have to be like me at her age.

'Do I know these people?' I asked as we walked-well, I walked, I don't know what it did- towards a blank, white horizon. It didn't seem to be getting any closer, though I felt like I was moving, but, just as the Fixer answered me, a thin black line appeared from thin air, then expanded to become a door. It opened, revealing more white behind it. I couldn't tell whether it led somewhere else, or if we were still in the same room, and the door opened into nothing.

'Well, of course! How else could you dislike them? Your father is here.'

I almost got whiplash from the non sequitur. 'Pops returned from Banat? When? Did you guys call him here?'

'Ah...' For the first time since I'd met it, the Fixer sounded sheepish. I wasn't sure whether I liked it more than its usual stupid exuberance, or if it fucking terrified me. 'Your gene donor, then? That's what children who hate their parents call them these days, I think.'

Scratch both. I was pissed.

'And why is Dravich here?' I asked tersely as we passed through the black door and into a corridor with grey, metallic walls. I haven't seen monochrome like this since I last looked in the mirror. I was going to barf.

'Because, as a citizen of Romania and inhabitant of Earth, he's entitled to the protection me and my colleagues offer,' the Fixer replied, all levity gone from its voice. 'You think we don't put people who can't stand each other together? You don't even wish him ill, not really-or you'd have brought that silver you promised, any time you met him in the last fi-'

'Stay out of my damn head!' I snarled, fists clenched, claws out. 'I know you don't understand intimacy-you'd have to be a person for that-but if you want a little mindfuck, go chat up your eldritch buddies in the Outer Void or wherever.' I grinned sardonically. 'My mind is one of the few things I truly own. Stay the hell away from it.'

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

For a long moment, it didn't say anything. Then, it turned away.

'You don't know a thing about me, Silva. I'd hope you'll never learn, but I know what will happen.' It waved an appendage, and another door, at the far end of the corridor, opened. 'That's one of the safe rooms. Stay there until called upon.'

'Until? Not unless?'

It scoffed. "As you say." And it was gone.

I haven't mentioned it, but ARC corridors are fairly long-the door was over forty metres away from me. Sure, I could cover that in a hundredth of a heartbeat, but I didn't want to turn whatever metal they were using to glowing slag.

Still, I made fairly good time, even at a mildly superhuman pace. The door closed after me, probably waiting for the next civilian accompanied by staff, and I was in the breach, as they say.

The room was much bigger than I'd expected-it looked like it could fit everyone in Bucharest, with space for the people from the surrounding cities. It wasn't even half-full at the moment, though. Not because the evacuation would take time, not with so many mages in the country, but because-I believed- ARC wouldn't want to put all their eggs in one basket.

Most of the civilians were human, of course, with assorted supernaturals forming clumps and cliques among but separate from them. In one corner, I spotted Bianca and her sisters, though she was standing pretty far from them. The iela smiled briefly at me, then went back to muttering a song alongside her sisters. They were calming down the people in earshot, I suppose, though it didn't have any effect on me. I'd have liked to think it was because I was a gloomy bastard, not a strigoi.

Mihai and his family-Adriana, Nina, Nela- were fairly close to the iele, Bianca in particular. Adi was sitting down on the floor, the sleeping girls in her lap and her long, curly brown hair in disarray. They must've been hustled out of the house. It would have explained Mihai's annoyed expression and twitching hands-not struggling to hold back a spell, thankfully. Just a nervous tic. The mage spotted me and nodded curtly, then went back to watching his daughters.

There were other mages scattered across the room, in what I suspected were symbolic patterns meant to bolster their powers in case they needed to jump into action briefly. None of them wore ARC uniforms, and I doubt they were all agents, but they were clearly trained.

They were not the only line of defence in the room. Roman Legionaries and Dacian warriors, translucent flags and wolf heads on poles swaying in the nonexistent wind, lined the walls, the badge of ARC's Crypt division-called the Corpse Corps, but never to their faces- glowing green above ghostly shoulders.

The ghosts watched everyone with unblinking eyes, reporting anything of interest to their superiors, when they weren't bickering with each other. Two Romans, who had died some centuries apart, were splitting hairs over religion. Probably to avoid splitting heads.

'Christians! When did you crawl out of the gutters, and why didn't we throw you back'

'Watch your pagan mouth. God knows His people have suffered enough. Do not mock our pain.'

'Or what, cross-fondler? Are you going to kill me?'

Well, at least I believed that's what they were saying. It had been decades since my last Latin class.

Alex was floating next to Andrei, who was sitting down on a carpet, in the middle of a Romani family, mangling some old song on a guitar. The children thought it was hilarious. I sneered in disgust.

So good that he loves children, but not his own. Bless his soul. I could barely wait to ride out this disaster with him in my sight.

I wonder if the Corpse Corps is hiring? Strigoi, forty-five years old, probably has anger issues, will act violently for money or good reasons.