The Vault restroom was on the fourth floor, single occupancy, the kind that was originally a converted storage room and had never quite lost the proportions of one. She locked the door. Put both hands on the edge of the sink. Looked at the mirror.
The spell was sealed. She had checked it twice in the corridor, once in the stairwell. Sealed. Whatever had broken in the elevator had been pulled back and held, and the surface of her — scent, signal, Alpha resonance — was fully suppressed and showing nothing.
She looked at herself.
She counted.
The first significant crack had been the lower Vault corridor, two weeks ago. She had been carrying a folder and had turned the corner and found him twenty feet away with his back to her and the spell had slipped for ten seconds before she caught it.
