Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
JACK
While they were traveling to the address, both Jack and Abigail had done their best to straighten their clothing, but it was clear they had been part of something out of the ordinary that day. Abigail’s new dress was ripped at her right shoulder. Jack’s coat was spotted with dark dried blood.
The whole time, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched.
Every look up to the rooftops or behind his back led to the same result: nothing.
Still, Jack’s imagination ran wild with the possibility of spies lurking in the shadows.
Just as he was about to suggest to Abigail that they double back, the pair of weary fugitives arrived at the address.
Jack’s stomach did a backflip as he realized he still hadn’t eaten that day.
The sun had long set, making the residence in front of them look more sinister than it should.
The two were in a low-end residential area of the city.
Single-story homes stood squeezed together with not so much as a walkway between the buildings.
The mage lights that added illumination to the moon and stars overhead cast weird shadows on 2999 Martelle Street.
The brick structure looked ancient with cracks spider webbing up from the overgrown yard that touched the foundation of the house, to the sagging roof that looked as though it could collapse with the next heavy rainfall.
“Are you sure Lieutenant Baker said this was the address?” Abigail looked up and down the deserted street. “You don’t think this is a trap, do you? I mean, Lieutenant Baker wouldn’t try to trick us, would he?”
“No.” Jack couldn’t imagine a scenario where they couldn’t trust Lieutenant Doyle Baker. “He wouldn’t have let us go at the bar, only to trap us here. He’s a good man.”
“Well then, do we just knock?”
Jack looked over at Abigail. Her face was in the shadow of the house, but he could imagine her determined eyes staring back at his own.
Together, the two made their way through the shabby yard to the front door. Jack stepped over a spider as it scuttled across the cement walkway. Once, long ago, the door had at one time been painted a bright, cheerful blue. Now, the paint chipped and flaked off the pitted wood.
There was a window on either side of the door, dirty drapes obscuring their view inside.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack caught movement from the window on his left.
By the time he turned to see what it was, it was too late.
The only thing there was the last sway of the stained curtain as it fell back into place.
Had he even seen anything at all? Jack had to wonder how much his imagination was toying with him at the moment, and whether or not there was actually someone staring at them from the other side of the window.
Abigail missed the interaction. She raised a fist, striking the door three times. The sound of her knocks reverberated inwards.
The pair of fugitives waited. Jack looked over his shoulder. Besides a few random pedestrians crossing the street a few blocks down, there was no one.
Abigail raised her hand again, but this time, before she could make contact with the wood, the door swung open in a rush. Two scarred hands reached out, grabbing both Jack and Abigail around their collars. In a heartbeat, they were pulled into the dark house. The door shut behind them.