Dangerous Thoughts

Chapter 10

Charles followed the pull on his gut which guided him like a compass through the silent city streets.

"I should have never listened to James," he muttered under his breath. "She is going back in the cage when we get home, got it?"

Juliette nodded, jogging to keep up with Charles' long steps. "I'm sorry, Mister Abbot," she said, and Charles could hear the sorrow in her voice. "I feel like this is my fault. She seemed nice and I thought... I thought maybe..." She trailed off.

Charles felt a pang of guilt at Juliette's admission and wondered if she'd overheard his conversation with James the night before. "It's okay, Juliette," he said. "She tricked all of us. Now we just have to make sure she doesn't trick us again."

The little girl nodded, a determined look on her face. "Can you tell how far away she is?"

"Not far," Charles said, guided by the bracelet's magick. They were moving deeper into the city, past crammed apartment buildings, closed store fronts, and a few open pubs. Eventually, the pull led him to an alley.

He hesitated. Light from a nearby gas lamp barely lit up the entrance; everything beyond the first few feet was bathed in shadows. At the same time, the pulling sensation in his gut lessened. "She's stopped moving," he said, "but I can't tell if that means she's arrived at her destination, or if she's lying in wait for us."

"I got this handled," Juliette said. She flexed her fingers and lightning danced along the tips.
"I'm not letting her fool me a second time."

Charles looked down at the young girl. He was grateful she was there, but he still could not shake the feeling that he should be protecting her, not the other way around. He checked his pocket quickly, making sure the emergency potions he had taken from James' cabinet were all in order. He refused to go into this situation empty handed. "Be careful," he said, and together they walked into the darkness.

The wet stench of the alley stirred up memories Charles had tried to suppress over the years: sleeping in a doorway during a rain storm, scrounging for discarded scraps of food behind restaurants, watching his clothes change colors and wear down to the threads, and the gritty sensation that clung to his skin for weeks and made him wonder if he'd ever feel clean again...

The alley narrowed suddenly, and for a moment, Charles didn't know where to go. Juliette's lightning barely made a dent in the darkness, and the only thing he could feel was slop under his feet and the rough brick rubbing against his shoulder. But the tug on his gut was insistent, pulling him to the right even though there was nowhere to go.

Charles placed a hand on the wall, and that was when he realized the brick had abruptly ended and had been replaced by worn wooden slats: a door.

He grasped at a metal handle. Slowly, trying not to make any sound, he pulled back, but the door wouldn't budge.

"It's locked," he whispered. However, a second later he heard a quiet click: the sound of a locking mechanism turning.

Juliette's voice floated up to him: "Taken care of, Mister Abbot."

Charles couldn't see her, but he had a feeling the little girl was smirking.

He let himself smile, just for a moment, before reaching for the handle and pulling the door open.

The door led to a narrow flight of stairs. As they descended, the temperature dropped and the air smelled of mold. Juliette's lightning hissed like a fly and lit up just enough of the space for Charles to realize it was a basement. There were broken chairs, moldy tarps, and dead leaves scattered throughout.

And standing in the back corner of the room, eyes wide and reflecting the glow from Juliette's light, was Lillian.

She widened her stance and put her hands up, poised to defend herself. "What are you doing here?"