Fuck.
Could they have gone inside?
I would have heard the beep from the security door. That damn thing beeps if you look at it wrong.
I should be safer inside.
Right?
My fingers clamp around the mug, nails scraping against the chipped metal surface.
I hesitate. Just for a second.
What if they’re already inside, waiting? I’d be walking straight into their hands.
A shadow moves in the trees.
Or maybe it doesn’t.
Maybe my brain is lying to me.
But the feeling of being watched gnaws at me.
I don’t think.
I move.
Pushing inside, I slam the lock into place and press my back against the door.
The house is silent.
My footsteps echo against the bare walls as I move, my pulse pounding in my ears.
First, the back door.
Then the windows.
Check. Check. Check.
Returning to the kitchen, I circle the mug on the table like it might grow fangs and attack me.
I mean, maybe it could. I don’t know shit about magic.
I can’t check Jameson’s truck to see if the travel mug is missing because Ezra “got rid of it.” I don’t know what that means, and at the time, I didn’t give a shit as long as I didn’t have to see it again.
Once I’m certain the mug isn’t going to do something terrible, I check the locks one last time.
The house is silent. Still.
Thankfully, the open floor plan doesn’t leave many places to hide.
Fire poker in hand, I creep upstairs toward Ezra’s bedroom.
Finding nothing, I walk back down the hall to Louie’s room and put my ear against the door.
More nothing.
“Please wake up soon,” I whisper through the silence.
