"Thirty-four, one eighteen," Bela started, giving the coordinates of Los Angeles on the map. "Nine, zero, zero, one, three." The zip code. And then, "Four sixty-two, eighty-eight nine." Completely random. It was the system she used in each city. One could probably figure out the coordinates and zip code in all of her apartments, but it was the last numbers that made the code unbreakable.
And the last portion. "And you'll need my print on the pad there," she gestured to the seemingly normal glossy, black pad next to the number pad. "Or, I should say, my lack-there-of." Bela smirked and wiggled the fingers of her right hand. She'd burned away her fingerprints long ago.
She looked over to her demon escort service. "Shall we?"