Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [115]
While an access door would have been very sweet, they’re a lot less common than I’d like. Instead, there was an ancient balcony off the top floor. The construction was first-rate, though, and it didn’t so much as tremor as we proceeded, one at a time, onto it and through the balcony door.
That door had needed a lock-pick. There was also an electronic security system, but my father assured us that only the lower level doors were protected.
Other than the fake workman, my father hadn’t seen anyone else while he’d walked the perimeter of the warded area. Whatever this place was, it didn’t seem to be a major hub of activity for the group. Definitely not the compound where they’d been holding me, though I’d known that—I hadn’t gone from Louisiana to Indiana on the relatively short van ride before I’d escaped.
We’d come through into a bedroom on the third floor. It was unbearably stuffy, and peeling layers of wallpaper said it hadn’t been used in decades. The one piece of furniture—a filing cabinet—had only been left behind because it was so old and heavy that it had sunk into the floor.
We made our way into the hall, Jeremy in the lead, using his werewolf sense of hearing and smell to check for occupants. I cast sensing spells. I wasn’t sure they worked, but it helped me clear my head and focus.
After one quick sniff around the top floor—and several stifled sneezes from the dust—Jeremy said no one had been up there in a while. So we proceeded down the stairs. Normally I’d lead there, knockback spell prepped, but Adam took it instead, his flaming fingers a quicker weapon than Jeremy’s brute strength.
My father had said this was where the warding spell kicked in, so it made sense that we’d start seeing signs of occupation here. That’s exactly what it looked like—occupation. Two rooms had beds with dressers stuffed with clothing and nothing personal. One even had a suitcase still on the floor.
“Temporary lodgings,” Jeremy murmured. “There are layers of scent.”
We checked out the other rooms. There was no one around, but Jeremy could detect faint voices from the lower level. He found a floor-level grate and crouched beside it, head tilted to listen.
He lifted three fingers. Three voices. He bent lower, then stood and waved us back away from the vent.
“Someone was talking about a fever,” he whispered. “I smell antiseptic.”
“A hospital, then. Or a makeshift one.”
Jeremy paused, and I knew he was working on a strategy. I didn’t offer any suggestions. Maybe I’d spent so many summers with the werewolves that I automatically fell into the role of Pack wolf, waiting for the Alpha to make the plans. Or maybe I just knew that any idea Jeremy came up with would be better than mine. You don’t lead a Pack for thirty years unless you’re a damned fine strategist.
“Distraction,” he said finally. “There’s only a single point of entry for us—the stairs. I heard three voices, but there may be more than three people so trying to sneak up on them individually is risky.” He turned to Adam. “How well do you know Bryce?”
“We’ve met a couple of times.”
“So he may not recognize you. There won’t be time for introductions, and we can’t risk him raising an alarm. You and I will clear the way and let Savannah search for Bryce once it’s safe.”
I agreed and we ironed out the details, then found the stairs down.
While the building’s origins as a house were evident from the top two floors, the main level had been gutted and redesigned. There were actually two sets of stairs going down. A narrow rear set must have been for servants at one time. The door at the top was heavily locked—with the locks on our side luckily. When Jeremy and Adam descended, I got a message from my father through Jaime saying we were going the wrong way.
“The steps lead to a few rooms at the back, including the rear door,” Jeremy said as they returned. “There’s no other point of access. Except here.”
“In other words,” Adam said, “to get to where we want to go, you need to come