The door closed softly behind them.

Damien stood just inside Ivy’s house, rain still clinging to his jacket, his senses sharp and alert. The place was quiet. Too quiet. Clean. Neat. Warm lights glowed from the ceiling, soft and steady.

The scent was mild soap, clean wood, something faintly sweet. Not a single toy on the floor. No small shoes by the door. No noise. No movement. This seems to get to Damien nerve.

He stayed still longer than necessary, his eyes inspecting everywhere, unable ...