Adamant Read Free Page B

monster that had chased us all over the first level. Good times.
    Even he had to admit it had been worth it. Now we were both Alliance employees. Simon had transferred over to the branch in New York City, while I’d stayed in London. And we both had a lifetime ticket to the Multiverse. Monsters included.
    I squinted against the glare, changing gears and making a turn towards the open gates leading into the car park. Words had been engraved into the gate: INTER-WORLD ALLIANCE, EST. 1988. Technically, the Alliance had been around much longer than that, but that was the year they’d gone public. The year my late grandfather had decided to unleash the truth about magic upon an unsuspecting planet Earth.
    Back then, of course, there was a real risk of a war between the universes. Now, the black skyscraper looked out of place amongst the grey tower blocks, more like a tourist attraction than the centre of Earth’s defence against offworld threats. The exterior wasn’t made of regular glass, but adamantin e, a rare offworld substance impervious to magic and virtually indestructible, which gleamed black even at night. To most people, it was an eyesore that drew attention to itself rather than hiding in the shadows like Alliance guards were supposed to. But Central was just a front—it was offworld where all the action happened.
    As I pulled into a parking space, the beep of a horn and an angry shout drew my attention.
    “That was my space, you asshole!”
    Killing the engine, I climbed out of my car to face the person who’d yelled. A surly face curtained by long black hair poked out the window of a black van behind me.
    “I said, that was my space!”
    “I don’t see a name on it,” I said. “Tough shit.” For God’s sake, half the car park was empty. He was just being a dick.
    “You must be from the Academy,” said the guy in the van, parking alongside me. “Nice manners. Humans.” He gave a derisive snort.
    I blinked at the way he said humans . “But you’re…”
    The words stopped as a centaur climbed out of the van. He wore a jacket, shirt and tie, but his back half was that of a tan-coloured horse. Easily six and a half feet tall—well, he towered over me, and I was five eleven. It was reason enough that I’d assumed—and I imagined most people would, for that matter—that the few centaurs on Earth didn’t drive. They could kick up speeds of eighty miles an hour on their own four feet. I mean, hooves. Seriously.
    “What’re you staring at?”
    The centaur’s back foot kicked up, like he intended to knock me down. I met his eyes, indicating he didn’t scare me. Not entirely true, but he didn’t have to know. Come on. Was I really going to get tackled by a centaur before I even stepped into Central? This was ridiculous, even for me.
    The centaur moved back onto all four hooves, and laughed—well, more like a neigh, really.
    “You didn’t seriously think I was going to hit you, did you?” he said, snorting with laughter. “Priceless. I don’t give a crap where you park your fancy vehicle.”
    “Who the hell are you, the welcoming committee?” I said, all thought of good first impressions going clean out the window. “Which department do you work in?” I turned my back to lock my car. I’d never met a centaur in person before, because—no shit—they hated humans and most never left their homeworld of Aglaia.
    “First floor. Same place you’re heading, if I’m not mistaken, Academy kid.”
    Kid? If he wanted to piss me off, he was going the right way about it. I made for Central’s front entrance instead of replying, but the centaur tailed me across the car park.
    “What?” he said, over the sound of clip-clopping hooves. “You’re trying to picture me in an elevator. Am I right? Humans. Making assumptions because I have two more feet than you do.”
    I’d been thinking nothing of the sort. But of course, now he’d mentioned it… how in hell did a centaur get into a lift? I hid a