The fan chamber opened before the door finished moving.
Air struck Ty in the chest and shoved his coat against his ribs. The case rolled half a foot forward on the dry rail, then jerked sideways as the wind caught the glass. JJ caught the front frame with her sword flat against metal. Blue grabbed the rear guide and planted both boots.
The room beyond the door had been built round. Four large fans sat behind iron grates along the walls, and a fifth spun above the rail with its blades angled down. The west rail crossed through the center on a bridge of slats. Under the bridge, older gears turned in a pit full of dust and shredded labels.
"The room is trying to comb us through the wall," JJ said. "I would like that complaint entered somewhere official."
Blue leaned into the rear frame until the case stopped sliding. Old fat from the jar still shined on one cuff of her sleeve. She looked at the fans, then at the crooked worker sign above the door.
