Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(13)

We didn’t say much as we ran, since we were preserving our breath to get there as quickly as possible, but once we reached the beginning of the fence, we paused and looked at each other. The shouting was definitely louder now, meaning that it was, without a doubt, coming from within the fenced enclosure. But, now that we were here, we were faced with the predicament of —

“So, what do we do exactly?” Lauren asked in a hushed tone. “Climb over the fence?”

“No,” Angie replied, eyeing the fence with a slight wariness. “I think we should just yell and hope they hear us.”

And so we began to call out. “HELLO?”

“ARE YOU OKAY?”

“DO YOU NEED HELP?”

But the shouting continued undeterred, as if he couldn’t hear us at all. Even when we yelled at the top of our lungs, it was as if it fell on deaf ears.

Angie huffed, her gaze passing along the top of the fence again, pausing at a few low-hanging branches.

“So maybe we should climb over after all,” she muttered.

Lauren looked nervous, her lips twitching, but she nodded. I didn’t actually think it would be a big deal. Several of the trees looked easy enough to climb, with many low branches. It wouldn’t be any harder than climbing a ladder.

Angie went first, with Lauren and me giving her a boost, and I went second, climbing just high enough so that we could drop our legs over the other side, and leap down. There were other trees on this side that looked easy to climb, too, so I didn’t worry about us getting back out—in case we didn’t end up finding whoever we were here for, or he couldn’t unlock the fence’s opening for some reason.

Once all three of us were safely on the ground, we headed through the trees, guided by the ever-present shouting…which had finally grown a little softer, and now sounded more like groaning.

We hurried, careful to dodge brambles and fallen trunks—as well as a large pit that had been dug in the ground. I wasn’t sure why they’d been digging a hole here, but the sight of it confirmed the shoveling noise we’d heard earlier.

After five minutes of walking, an old wooden house came into view, and my eyes widened. It was much bigger than I’d expected it to be — bigger than the Churnleys’ home, with four stories rather than two, and about twice as wide. As we drew closer, I also realized that all the windows had been boarded up — and it was with new wood, which meant that it had been done only recently, probably in the last day or so. Which confused me somewhat, given what the guys had told us earlier. If they were here to renovate this old house, why had they boarded up the windows?

I shrugged the thought aside as we reached the porch. Five low steps led up to it, and twin wooden columns rose up on either side of the door, which certainly looked like it had seen better days. Like the rest of the house’s exterior, the wood was roughened with age, and discolored by moss and mold.

“Am I the only one getting a creepy vibe from this place?” Lauren said quietly.

I shrugged. Yeah, I guessed the fact that it was built in the woods, and we were approaching it at nighttime, did give it a Hansel and Gretel vibe. Though I imagined that in the daytime it looked quite picturesque.

Angie reached the door first and was about to knock, when it gave way slightly under her touch. It glided open, creaking softly, and Angie looked back at us with a questioning expression.

Lauren and I said nothing, so she continued pushing it, until there was a large enough gap for the three of us to slip inside.

Once we were through, we found ourselves standing at the beginning of a long, dusty hallway. Everything was wooden, from the walls to the floors, and completely bare, except for a few dusty gas lamps fixed at odd intervals against the walls.

More than anything, I was taken aback by how high the temperature was. It felt like a wave of hot air had washed over us as we stepped in, and I found myself stilling for a moment, trying to adjust to the temperature as my mouth went dry. It definitely was a good thing that Lauren had brought water.

“Okay, yeah, this is pretty creepy,” Angie whispered, eyeing the general decor—or rather, the stark lack of it. She pulled back a bit, so that she was level with Lauren and me, rather than ahead of us.

I refocused on the groaning, which sounded like it was coming from the other end of the hallway.

“Hello?” I called softly.

Still no response.

I wondered where the other men were, and from the confused expressions on my friends’ faces, they were wondering the same thing. Were they all sleeping in this place? It seemed so… bare. But where else would they be? We hadn’t noticed any kind of camp on our way here, unless it was set up around the back of the house.

I poked my head through the open doorways on either side of the hallway as we passed them, and each of the rooms beyond, also bathed in dim gaslight, looked equally derelict. Most were scattered with furniture, covered with thick layers of dust, and none of it looked like it had been used in years. Perhaps upstairs was nicer?

It was the strangest thing, but as we crept deeper into the house, I realized it was becoming hotter. By the time we were two-thirds down the corridor—having passed a set of stairs leading up to the higher floors—we had to stop and take a sip of water.

“Seriously, it’s like an oven in here,” Lauren gasped, stowing the bottle away once we were done with it.

I brushed away the sweat that was quickly forming on my brow with the back of my hand, and set my focus on the only door in this corridor that was closed — right at the end, and now only about five feet in front of us. This house was far deeper than I had anticipated; the hallway had seemed to stretch forever. I guessed the heat also had something to do with that impression.