Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,62

a mini fridge and a tiny stove.

The hallways were barely lit, and there were dark stains on the carpets that could have been dirt but were more likely blood or vomit. The walls seemed paper-thin: I could hear a television blaring from one room, a baby crying from another and a couple screaming at each other in a third. The smell of boiled cabbage permeated the air, and I took a deep breath and held it, trying to keep from breathing too much of the noxious fumes.

I headed toward the apartment that was London’s. No matter what I had told Cyrus and Mindy, I’d purposely teleported myself one floor below, so I could get my bearings and not leap directly into the fray. No one was roaming the hallways on this floor, so I went to the stairwell and pushed open the heavy door.

It clanged shut behind me, the bang echoing off the concrete walls, and sickly fluorescent lighting did nothing to help the ambience. I headed up the stairs, keeping a wary eye out. I heard someone walking around above, but they disappeared out of the stairwell and into the complex. I shrugged and gently pushed open the door to London’s floor, giving a quick glance out before entering the hall.

“So, why are you calling her, then?” a woman shouted, and it was then that I noticed a couple standing at the end of the hallway.

“It wasn’t anything! Why are you making a big deal about it?” the man yelled back.

They continued fighting as I walked to London’s door, still on my guard. Seemingly, the only people around were the bickering couple, but the hair on my neck was still standing on end.

I knocked once, then a bit louder so London could hear me over the argument. I glanced over at the angry couple, who now seemed to be in some sort of embrace. “That was fast,” I muttered, and took advantage of the silence to knock again.

There came movement from inside the room. Was London really in trouble? What if an assailant/murderer had already shown up? What if someone had already used the Afieral spell on her? Why had I wasted time talking to Cyrus and Mindy?

I was about to blast the door off its hinges when I could hear the sounds of turning locks. The door opened to reveal an extrapale London. “You came.” She looked shocked, but her voice betrayed nothing.

“Well, yeah. You called. You screamed in my head, to be more precise.”

She winced. “Sorry about that. I panicked.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Thanks. Nice neighbors you’ve got here,” I said as I passed.

I gave a quick look around her place. Standard cheap apartment: a medium-size living room, a hallway that likely led to a kitchen, another that likely led to the bedroom and bath. London seemed to go for the minimalist approach; she had a couch against one wall, a television against the opposite and not much else. The back of the room was probably designed to be the dining area, considering the light fixture that purposely seemed to hang low to light a table, but there was nothing but a small bookshelf with a few books.

Considering I could see most of the small place from where I stood and I sensed no particularly strong emanations of evil magic, it seemed a safe assumption that no Dragon cult members were lurking about. There couldn’t be that many places for them to lie in wait, not in here. So, maybe there was no trap and I was just being superparanoid.

Yet, how much of a coincidence was it that I’d gotten Howard’s call and fought the cultists at the same time Hacker had come out with his message? Then London gives me a distress signal when I’m probably the absolute last person she would naturally turn to for help? No. There weren’t enough coincidences in the world for that to be possible.

“Oh, yeah, the neighbors. Never a dull moment.” London gave me a wan smile as she shut the door. I listened for the sound of turning locks but didn’t hear any. So, at least I wasn’t locked in. Maybe she’d thought that would raise suspicion.

She seemed extra fidgety, like she was on edge after drinking one too many espressos. She seemed to be unable to look me in the eye.

“So, who is he and what does he ‘know that you know’?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. There was no sense dancing around,