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Another crash cuts him off. My stomach sinks. I'm not sure what's going on out there, but I doubt it's good. No one ever makes this much noise here. It's like a library. Everyone knows to be quiet the moment they enter, but no one can actually explain how they know that.
I hold my finger to my lips, and he nods. In reality, that was probably unnecessary on my part. But it's better safe than sorry.
I creep towards the door, and crack it open. Not by much, just enough for me to be able to look through and see what's going on outside.
Nothing.
Despite the crash, there's no sign of anyone out there.
I close the door softly, before turning back to Bram. "We need to get going."
"I thought as much."
I can get used to this working together lark if this is how he's going to be.
"Is there anything you want from here before we go?" he asks, his thoughtfulness stopping me in my tracks.
"Erm..." I look around a few times. "I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"I don't really have much stuff? Mostly weapons."
"They're always useful," he points out.
And he's right. They are. I get down on my knees and shuffle under my bed, before pulling up one of the floorboards. I reach inside, and feel the familiar leather which surrounds my spare weapons.
Once I'm back on my feet, I drop it on my bed and unroll it, revealing an array of sparkling metal. If there's one thing I always make sure of, it's that my weapons were all in good order.
"Anything you want?" I ask. We can't take all of them with us, there's far too many and we have no bag to put them in. Although...
I almost skip over to the wardrobe, excited at the prospect of finding what I need. Searching through the bottom, I find an array of clothing I don't think I've worn in years. At last, I find the backpack I'm looking for. It's small, but it doesn't need to be much bigger, I just need it so my stuff isn't in the way.
Bram is still examining my weapons collection when I return to the bed. He draws his finger along the lines of a particularly wicked looking knife.
"Use it, if you want," I tell him, before slotting some extra throwing stars into the holster I'm already wearing. I can never have enough of those. At least, now I don't think I can. Before, I was far too cocky for my own good in the projectiles department. If I'd had them with me, then maybe I wouldn't have died in that house. Well, not died. As Bram pointed out, I'm not actually dead. Just different. But my life certainly wouldn't be going the way it is now if I'd thought and brought some throwing stars with me.
I try and feel bad about that.
I fail.
As much trouble as we're in at the moment, I'm actually kind of enjoying myself for the first time in my entire life. I would say a long time, but my life is far more accurate. There was never any time to play as a child, so I've never had a chance for fun.
I also sheath another knife. Knowing my luck, I'll end up losing one of my others before we get back to the den.
"Ready?" I ask, stuffing the remaining weapons into my backpack, along with a spare shirt. I don't need it back at the den, but with the way my luck is going, I will need it while we're on the run. It's a shame I don't have any men's clothing here though, then I could have replaced the shirt Bram ripped to stop me from bleeding. That was gentlemanly of him.
"When you are," he replies shakily. I don't blame him. I grew up here, which adds an air of familiarity for me. But to him, this is just a place where we'll be killed on sight.
Always a fun situation to be in.
I open the door, and we steal out into the corridor, leaving my room behind for what is quite possibly the last time.
Chapter 6
The place is deserted, and a little part of me wonders if that's because everyone is out looking for Bram and I. It's perfectly plausible that's the case. But now my tracker is dead, or at the very least, dying, things could change at any moment. I just hope we're out of here before they do.
"Where will the knife be?" Bram asks.
