It’s go time.
Brogan pulls me into a bear hug, whispering into my ear. “You be careful in there, baby. If anything happens to you, I’m following right behind.”
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him with more confidence than I feel, grabbing onto Soren’s hand.
“Let’s go rescue our weavers.”
23
Echo
Soren and I hop into the apartment, and it’s so much worse than I expected. My mind was conjuring images of iron shackles and a dank basement, and Wren and Cam looking pale and frightened.
And yet, somehow, the reality is worse.
So much worse.
We don’t find them immediately as we skirt around the living room and kitchen, which I remember from the last time we were here. It’s once we get beyond those, the red flags show themselves.
I know Leif said Andrew’s fiancée, whose name I either do not know or can’t remember, is a witch. But I don’t expect their apartment to be filled with so many eyeballs.
Jars and jars of them, covering shelves that cover an entire wall.
“How the heck did they get hold of these?”
“Good question.”
“I wish I’d perfected my ‘mind if I use your bathroom’ snooping technique sooner,” I tell Soren. “Because this… well, this is the home of a serial killer.”
I say the words brightly, not registering until they’re out there that they are likely to be true.
And then we find a door. One that I wish we’d stepped through weeks ago.
How did we not notice the vibe from this place? Now that I’m more aware of what’s going on, the living room is way too clean and the rest of this place has a very distinctivesmellthat I couldn’t begin to place.
The door is white, innocuous looking, and unlocked. It leads to a staircase that heads downstairs and I share a look with Soren and he squeezes my hand as we descend. My comments and thoughts about them being trapped in the basement were just me going through the old clichés, but they’re scarily accurate.
Dammit.
Although… this is an apartment, it shouldn’t have any such thing as a basement. Especially considering it’s not on the bottom floor.
The air seems to get colder and increasingly damp the further we descend.
Soren pushes the door at the bottom of the stairs open and we step into a room that’s so cold, I can see my breath in front of me. That unidentifiable smell is stronger down here. It’s like stale air and bleach and something else.
I feel a shiver run through me as well as a wave of dizziness. Maybe they’re pumping something into the air down here, making them feel tired. Too tired to fight back.
I don’t have time to think about it or to notice the exact moment I start to feeloff.I’m too busy rushing toward the cage.
The cage holds an exhausted and irritated looking Cam, as well as a bundle of clothing and dark hair that must be Wren.
Oh shitty fucking fiddlesticks. Is she breathing?
“Cam? Wren?” Soren calls out, and Cam’s eyes flick to his face. The fact she’s only just reacting to our presence isn’t a good sign.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Is Wren… breathing?”
“Just peachy,” Cam rasps. Her throat sounds shredded, like she’s been screaming. “She’s holding in there, but if we don’t get out of here soon, she won’t be. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s cold as shit and if that doesn’t kill her, the daily power suck might just tip her over the edge.”
