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didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of the project. Seeing and walking the maze, is a whole ‘nother level of awe.
    There is no map, and according to Vivian, there never will be one. Only the seethe and our small werewolf pack know of its existence and I swear, even after five months, there are twists and turns I don’t think I’ve discovered. I wouldn’t put it past Vivian to have designed hidden rooms on purpose, hence there being no map. The slim dimensions of the tunnel make it easily defensible by one person, denying fighting space and blocking any enemies farther down.
    There are hidden stores of weapons, which frankly alarmed me when I saw how old the stuff was. It’s like a bomb shelter for an extremist group—except the food stores are sadly lacking. I’ve come across canned goods, which I bet must have been intended for Rafe and Jon, but I think this place was designed more to confuse an enemy than defend against one. Make them chase their tails single- file underground while Viv and Rafe escaped safely.
    A chill creeps up my spine. The cold of the surrounding permafrost never lets you forget where you are. The sub-zero temperature seeps past the two-foot-thick walls, and grasps every inanimate object it touches. I may not fully understand the reasoning behind such an elaborate and expensive design that is off limits to guests, but I can certainly appreciate it now that I need to get around while the sun is out.
    It’s almost three and darkness won’t descend for several hours. The newly arrived Weres plan to gather and strip in the hot tub grotto before transforming to hunt. I grew up where hunters routinely received the license to hunt bear by lottery, so the concept of big-game hunting isn’t lost on me, but doing it in animal form is.
    After making two more lefts, three rights, and passing through six more steel doors, I approach a metal ladder identical to the other half dozen I’ve seen. Nothing is labeled. You must learn the means of access by rote memory and not leave a mark when passing. Vivian was quite emphatic on her wishes if we were to start using the network of tunnels. And even though there are no cameras down here, I don’t doubt that she patrols them every once in a while to check that her requirements are being met.
    Thankfully, I haven’t gotten lost yet. Turned around once or twice, but not lost. The humiliation of having to call for guidance has proven a terrific incentive to pay attention when exploring.
    Not a trace of dirt or dust is anywhere; a smudge might reveal a location or turn to a pursuing enemy. Who cleans it? Maybe it’s one of the tasks Vivian takes on when she’s not taking a daily restorative sleep, like I still need to do. I ascend a ladder into a tight tube leading to the surface and open the submarine-like hatch at the top, taking a step down two rungs to allow it to swing inward and settle against the tube’s wall. It works opposite as a normal submarine hatch would, which took some getting used to on my part. A thick, wooden trap door lays over the hatch, with no trace of light leaking around the seams.
    I press a secret panel to the left of the seam, which triggers a hidden latch on the other side and the lock springs softly open. Easing the heavy floor piece up, I carefully lean it against the closet’s interior wall that houses the escape hatch. I scramble up and return it quietly to its original position. Once it’s closed and locked I knock on the closet door leading into the cabin.
    “Yo! Asa, is that you?” comes from the room beyond the thick wood.
    “Who the hell else would it be, Pat?” I say, trying to keep the annoyance from my tone. Sonovabitch knows it would only be me, but he still asks every freakin’ time. “Is it safe? Have you dropped the window shutters down yet?”
    Unknown to most of the guests and employees, all the cabins are equipped with light-deterring, steel hurricane shutters. To say Vivian planned for every possibility