Golden

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

        Julen holds his hand out to stop me and then presses a finger to his lips. He beckons for me to crouch with him as he peers around a thick tree surrounded by bushes. Moving cautiously beside him, I raise my head high enough to see Quinn as he hurries towards a small, inconspicuous house.

        Quinn had awakened shortly after Julen placed him in a cleared area of the woods. We were perched on the branches of a nearby tree, talking in hushed voices about what we were to do after he led us to the rogue’s hideout. When Quinn awoke, he had panicked and began whispering inaudible nonsense to himself, and I cannot say that didn’t worry me.

        Currently, he hops up the porch steps in long strides. He reaches the front door, exhales loudly, and then knocks on the door twice. He waits two seconds, then knocks again before twisting the doorknob. It doesn’t open, to which he looks around with frantic eyes. I duck my head before his gaze can sweep over me.

        “Look,” Julen whispers.

        I peer over the bush once more, watching as Quinn brings his face close to the door and moves his lips. He peers through the peephole in the door, but no one answers. He runs a hand through his hair and shuffles his feet.

        Suddenly, his body starts to shake visibly. He runs two hands through his hair and then kicks the door. His lips move, and I think I can hear… whining?

        “What is he doing?” Julen mutters.

        “I don’t know. This is completely unlike him,” I reply, making sure to keep my voice hushed.

        Quinn knocks four times, each in rapid succession. He kicks the door again and then another time before taking a step back. Suddenly, he rushes at the door, ramming his shoulder into the weak wood. He does it again and then a third time before the door bursts open.

        He disappears inside, to which Julen turns his gaze to me. “Follow me,” he orders.

      I am right on his heels as we creep over to the side of the house and below a window. Julen raises his head to look through the window but immediately crouches back down. “The curtains are closed; I cannot see inside.”

        “Let’s just go in through the door,” I suggest. “I can handle Quinn if he sees us.”

        He rolls his eyes at me, “Knocking him out again will not solve anything. All it will do is cause him brain damage.” He pauses, “no; what we need is—”

       His words are cut off by a sudden shout. Quinn sprints through the open door, his boots stomping against the porch as he bounds down the stairs. “Vera!” he cries. “Where are you, my love?!” His hands are flailing as he runs down the concrete path and disappears from sight.

        It takes me a moment to realize that my lips are parted in shock. Julen looks at me with a smirk, “problem solved,” he says at a normal volume.

        We stand and walk around the side of the house and through the open front door. The first thing I see are the tables upon tables of glass beakers. There must be hundreds of tiny vials and slim bottles that are filled with liquids and gases. Some of the beakers have different colours of smoke that spill over the edges of the glasses.

        Immediately, Julen moves to the table at the very center of the floor. “Whoever this kidnapper is has a fascination with potions,” he comments. “Your friend must be under a spell of some sort.”