Of all the things that had tried to kill them today, the door was the most polite about it. But it had a type, and the type was not male.
Serena stepped into the light holding Fin's hand. Her fingers were locked around his with the grip pressure of a woman who had been separated from people she loved too many times today and whose too-many had produced a holding instinct that was going to require surgical intervention to release.
Runes flared violently. The flaring was aggressive, interrogative, the sigils cycling through colors and frequencies with the rapid assessment of a security system scanning an entrant and finding the scan inconclusive.
