Apparently unnerved enough that he’d decided to act, Craig pulled a bit of thin chain out of his pocket. I recognized it. Blessed silver chain or something. A one-stop measure for most kinds of Other or something of the sort. They’d had it in the parking lot outside the police station.
“Evan!” I ordered. “Go! Back the way we came!”
I stepped out of the window’s reflection. Escaping before they could get in our way.
■
One quick conversation and a bit of scavenging later, and we were set.
Actually taking action proved a little more difficult. The house was barred to me, which I’d expected, but it was barred to Evan as well. Plywood had been set up against the windows, the same boards that Ty had used to cover the front window, but on the back window and back door this time.
Many surfaces had been spray painted.
Evan flew in a wide circle around the house, carrying the small bike side-view mirror he’d ‘liberated’ from a downtown shop. When he paused, here and there, I was able to peer through the mirror. I couldn’t fly, meaning there was no surface to stand on when he was at a certain height and angle.
No subtle way to get in. no way, even, to peer inside. Either the curtains had been shut, or the window had been spray painted black.
On the plus side, there was still a car a little ways down the street, shabby and nondescriptive, and according to Evan, it smelled like gunpowder. I’d peeked inside, and there were heavy cases throughout. I was pretty sure it belonged to the witch hunters.
They were still here, which meant that maybe, just maybe, the others were alive.
Evan did another loop, perching on a tree that looked out on the back of the house.
“Well,” I said, “We might have to get in the house another way.”
“Another way?”
“It’s a little unusual, and not my first choice, but we might have to use the door.”
“Hah,” Evan said. “Crazy.”
But he took off, flying to the back door.
He hopped up and down on the thumb-press handle of the back door. It didn’t move.
“Locked,” he said. “Lemme see…”
He relocated himself to the bulky lock above, a secure, albeit somewhat old-fashioned fixture that could have withstood a hit from a sledgehammer. It had a slot for a key.
He used the fiddly plastic bit at the end of the mirror, sticking it at the lock, mashing it in over and over until it stuck in the lock. Wings flapping, over about four tries, dropping the mirror twice, he rotated the mirror around, and the lock with it.
The door swung open.
“Yes,” he said.
“Careful, careful,” I warned. “Don’t move.”
Peering through the mirror, crouched on the ground in a narrow and small patch of light, I said, “Turn the mirror back around?”
He did, but in the doing, he moved it too fast. I was shunted to the street outside. I skipped back to my former location.
My eyes scanned the surroundings.
The witch hunters wouldn’t want to leave anything up to chance.
I’d expected a shotgun to fire the second the door opened, in some contrived setup, or something.
What I saw was a metal box with two wires sticking out of it, resting flat against the ground. A symbol was painted on top of it, a rune. Probably written by a third party.
Fuck me, that was scary. I wasn’t sure entirely what it was, but it was scary.
“Stay high,” I said. “I think there are more wires. Short bursts of flight. There’s a lot of places for traps, and if they catch you-“
“I got it, I got it.”
Together, we reached the kitchen. The toaster, I noted, had been spray painted black.
Evan ducked into the sink.
I heard footsteps, followed by hushed voices.
Evan flew out of the sink, and into the living room.
“Fuck, that scared me,” Ellie said. Her voice was a little hoarse. “It’s just the dumb bird.”
None of the others replied.
“It’s not just the bird,” I said, as Evan set the mirror down.
I saw their heads turn, but they dismissed the idea.
“Listen to me,” I said, pushing a little harder. “I’m here to help.”
Evan hopped down, beginning to open the handcuff locks with his talons.
“Who are you?” Ellie asked, looking around.
“Look at the mirror,” I said. “And listen. We only get one shot at this.”