“Right, right, annoying noise anyway,” Simon said hurriedly, poking at various controls on the monitor station near the elevator that looked promising. “Come on, this button is obviously an on, there has to be an off!”
“Not necessarily,” Tiburon shot back, searching the station just as frantically, scooping up anything that looked like a stray bit of data storage that Drakon didn’t get to first. Though the FBI agent had hauled out a few of his own flash drives, and was pulling something on the nearest computer that Simon sort of doubted was entirely legal. “This isn’t a standard setup-”
Ja’far’s hand slapped Tiburon’s away from one particular button. “Trapped!”
Tiburon swore. “They’ve mixed tech and magic all through here. You probably need a magic key to turn the bloody alarm off-”
Malachy’s hand rested on Simon’s shoulder. “They know we’re here. Give us an advantage.”
Me? But what can I do? I’m no security expert, I’m not a soldier, I’m just–
:You were never “just” anything, my king.:
Malachy grabbed Tiburon and Drakon as he moved, hauling them clear of anything metal.
Lightning struck with his cutlass, stabbing deep into the heart of the security station before lashing out like a spiderweb of sparks. Lights and sirens flickered, screeched-
Hmm. Dark in here.
Beside him, Simon felt Ja’far’s deep sigh.