A stream of smoke tickled the outside of the doorway when the three of us approached the house. The curtains were pulled up over the windows, blocking a peak at the inside, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Jessica and Gerry allowed me to lead them in. They were also a little shook up. Peaches followed closely behind.
Inside the doorway, the railings for the staircase were shattered. The photographs on the walls were either cracked or on the ground. The living room was worse. I had to step around the mound that was once the piano Darius gave my mother. The couch had fluff pouring out of it in a several spots and our dining room table was torn apart in the middle and lying on the floor in a heap.
Through all of that, the only thing I could think was “Where is LeCarre?” There were ash marks on parts of the walls where I could tell he had conducted some kind of spell. He was clearly attacked, but by who?”
Jessica picked up a piece of the piano, “What did you say my dad was here doing, again?”
I sad, “He said he was going to get me some clothes for London.”
“I’d say it was something a little deeper than that,” she dropped the piece. “He had to have known someone was going to meet him here.”
Her eyes watered. I couldn’t bear to look at the two siblings. If something happened to LeCarre and it was because he was protecting me, they would never forgive me. I had to keep looking.
“LeCarre?” I yelled.
I ran up the stairs, which held up sturdily in spite of the damage. I checked my parent’s bedroom, which also had been turned upside down. There were still no signs of LeCarre.
When I made it into my bedroom, I was taken aback. Everything was in its proper place. The bed was made, my writing desk was spotless, and the clothes that usually remained piled on the floor had been picked up and placed into my drawers or were at least out of the way.
I thought, “What kind of maniac would destroy an entire house, but make time to fold my laundry?”
My questions were answered when the shadowy frame of a man appeared in the center of the room.
“We meet again, young friend,” said Lathon.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Silhouette (Alan Quinn and the Second Lifes) Page 33
