The woman's presence seemed to bend the very air around her, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. Mishka remained standing, deliberately positioning herself between the intruder and the door.
"The naval base was just the beginning," the woman said, running one finger along the edge of the phonograph's wooden cabinet. "Your friend Mr. Cameron's designs aren't just fashion, are they? The fabric responds to more than just body heat."
Mishka's expression remained carefully neutral. "If you know enough to break into my home, you know enough not to waste time with obvious statements."
"Fair enough." The woman's smile was razor-thin. She withdrew something from her coat—a piece of fabric that seemed to shimmer and shift, even in the dim light. One of Bruce's prototypes. "Do you know what happens when you combine his technology with certain... ancient frequencies?"