Djamphir, wulfen, they all stopped and stared at me. I stood right inside the doors for an uncomfortable ten seconds before Graves pushed me from behind and got me going again. It was hard to eat with everyone staring. But Graves was there, looking around like he was enjoying himself. He put away a whole plate of pancakes, a mountain of hash browns, and a mound of crispy bacon in the time it took me to pick halfway through my cellophane-wrapped ham sandwich. Good for him. Leon led me through a labyrinth of quiet halls away from the sound of slamming lockers and male voices. The flooring changed to hardwood, and the marble busts came back, staring at me like I was an interloper. Long velvet drapes framing the windows were alive with the golden glow of dusk, the kind of light that lasts maybe five minutes before twilight falls and the Real World comes out to play. I shivered. Pulled my hoodie closer around me, and zipped it up, too. We ended up at a long dim windowless room with a mirror-polished conference table on the right side—the inner side—of the wall.
