Tun does indeed return later that night. I won't admit it out loud, but I'm looking forward to speaking with the brownie. While I'm a solitary person by choice, the operative word here is choice. If I want to stay in my room and not socialize, that's my prerogative; but when that choice is taken away from me, I get a little stir-crazy.

Since I can't look at the computer during the day, I ask the guard taking me to my three-time daily potty break to bring me some books. He doesn't deign to reply, but by the time we get back to my room, lunch is waiting—along with a stack of old magazines.

And I mean old.

Five, ten, fifteen years out of date.

But it's something to keep me occupied, so I force myself to read articles about celebrities from the west coast who are more than likely dead; recipes that contain ingredients I've never heard of; and parenting advice.

I'm on the fifteenth magazine with dozens more to go when Tun appears on the bookshelf—and he's not alone. Five more brownies emerge from the silver portal, all elders from what I can tell. One even walks with the aid of a gnarled cane. Some of them carry little cushions, which they arrange in a line on the shelf.

I feel as if I've been summoned to some grand inquisition.

Every brownie stares at me with a grave expression on their wrinkly, nut-brown faces. Tun stands at the far left. "Hunter, these are the elders of our tribe."

I give them a little nod of acknowledgment.

The elderly female with the cane is the first to speak. She sits in the middle of the line, which may mean that she's the spokesperson, the oldest, or it might mean nothing special at all. Her long white hair is plaited in a thick braid that hangs over her left shoulder and spills into her lap.

"Tun has informed us that you intend on taking the nephilim," she says, her accent as broad as Tun's. I have to concentrate very hard on every word.

"Yes," I tell the assembled brownies, "but that's going to be rather hard, considering I'm stuck in here with no weapons."

"And where will you take her?"

I actually thought about this while wasting brain cells reading those magazines. "Alaska."

The brownies exchange a look. The elderly female with the braid says, "Alaska? My dear, you cannot go there."

"Why not?" I frown and uncross my legs to tuck them beneath my chin.

"The Institute has another compound there."

They are telling me things that I already know. "Yes, in the peak of Deer Mountain in Ketchikan."

The worried expressions on the faces of the elders swiftly change to surprise. "How do you know this?" a male at the end demands, pressing down on his generous belly as he leans forward.

"Because that's where they took my parents."

Long strings of unintelligible Scottish syllables flow between the elders. Tun clasps his hands behind his back and watches as they seemingly argue back and forth. After a minute, the chatter stops.

"Tell us about this," the elderly female insists.

For a brief moment, I consider my options. I've never told anyone other than Jae-Seong about my past. But they had several opportunities to rat me out and didn't. I hope that the one time I put my trust in someone it doesn't backfire.

"My parents worked for the Institute," I tell them, all the while listening for my internal warning bell to go off. But it doesn't, so I continue. "I spent a lot of time as a child here. They had a joint office in room 312 on the third floor. I spent all of my life believing that they were simple scientists, researching alternative energy sources. It wasn't until last night that I discovered the truth—that they were part of a project that was attempting to harness demonic energy."

It all made sense, now, why they were waiting for me at school with the family SUV loaded up with suitcases. Why they both looked so nervous.

"Go on," another male elder prompted gently when I paused.

"One day, they picked me up from school and the car was full of luggage. When I asked them where we were going, they played it off—told me that we were going on an impromptu vacation. But I knew that something was wrong, but I was eight, so I didn't question it. Not until the cars tried to run us off the road.

"Everyone was screaming—me, my mother, my father. In the moments before our car was knocked into a ditch, my mother told me that they were on the run from the Institute. Something horrible had taken place there and they didn't want to be a part of it anymore. Right before Orcus agents pulled us out of the wreckage, my mother wrote some coordinates on a piece of paper and stuffed it into my shirt." Those were the coordinates in my room back at Keres House. I'd long since figured out their location and committed it to memory, but kept the note as a reminder.

I took a deep breath and felt a sharp pain in my palms. Looking down, I saw that my nails had pierced the skin of my hands and little beads of blood were oozing around the half-moon cuts. Making a conscious effort, I pry open my hands.

"She told me that they were being taken there to continue the project. The agents tossed me out of the car and took my parents, along with all of their gear. The only thing that they left me on that dark desert highway was the small suitcase I had in the backseat. Then they drove off with my parents and left me to die."

Silence from the peanut gallery on the shelf.

"So, I've spent the last ten years earning enough money by hunting monsters to take me to Alaska, where I intend to free my parents."

When it's obvious that I'm done, the female with the cane speaks. "Even knowing what you do, you still intend on taking the nephilim to Alaska?"

"It has been my only goal for ten years," I tell her. "Would you rather have her used to strengthen Ehtab's hold on the western seaboard?"

"No," the elders reply in unison.

I raise my hands and shrug. "Well, there you go. Will you help me escape?"

"We will debate on the matter," the elderly female tells me, rising to her feet. "You will hear from us within the hour."

I watch as another silver portal opens and the six of them solemnly march into it. Tun remains, hands folded behind his back respectfully. When the portal closes, he turns to me.

"How long have you been here?" I ask him.

"We have been in servitude for nearly nine years."

"And you can go wherever you want?"

"Yes."

Hmm. "So, I'm sure that you've seen a lot of things that most humans would consider 'classified'?"

The brownie cocks his head. "We have," he replies, a little uncertain of where the conversation is headed.

I stand and walk over to the computer. After plugging it in and logging into my mother's account, I pull up the video of Doctor Parrish-Abbott summoning Ehtab. "Have you seen this book around here before?"

Tun summons two portals and uses one to cross over to the desk. He stands between the keyboard and monitor, staring at the black and white image. He traces the hazy outline of the book with one stubby brown finger. "I have seen many books like this in the archives," he says at last. "But they were moved many years ago to another location."

I bite my lower lip in frustration. "It wouldn't happen to be Alaska, would it?"

The brownie turns to look up at me, black button eyes widening. "Actually, it was."

Tun watches several more videos with me, pointing out which items are still in the archives and which ones are in Alaska. Apparently, there are very few items used to summon demons here, which will make carrying them easier.

The elders arrive just before the hour is out, as they promised. Well, just one elder—the female with the cane.

Tun portals over to her, but she waves off his attempt at steadying her arm. Knowing that showing some respect will aid me in the long run, I get up from the chair and cross over to the bookshelf. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I look up at the brownie and await her judgment.

The elder inclines her head slightly. "We have decided to aid you," she says. "Planning your escape will take several days, but we believe that everything will be ready before the full moon four days hence."

Tun and I exchange a look. "Tun said that you could leave the boundaries of the Institute."

The elder raises thick white eyebrows and looks at the younger brownie. "Yes. We have often been required to run errands, but we cannot stay out long. The spell that binds us to the demon will pull us back in an hour."

That much Tun told me. He also added that if a brownie did not return by the allotted time, the spell gave them a nasty shock as punishment.

"Are you able to find someone and relay a message for me?"

"It is possible," the elder replies slowly. "Who is this message for?"

The words nearly caught in my throat, but I forced myself to say them. "Demon-hunter Finn Glaris."