Stolen Souls

55

HERKUS STOOPED TO pick up the brick with his right hand and returned to the window. With his left hand, he placed the point of the screwdriver against the glass at the lower corner of the pane.

He looked through the window one more time, letting his gaze wander over the variations of darkness beyond. Was there a disruption in the shadows that hadn’t been there before? Probably a trick of his fatigued mind. Either way, it was too late now. He had set his course of action, and he would stick to it.

The window held at the first attempt. Herkus cursed and drew his right hand back once more. Harder this time, he struck the butt of the screwdriver, and in an instant the glass transformed from a solid pane into thousands of tiny crystals showering down to the ground. It sounded like a waterfall.

He scraped fragments away with the point of the screwdriver, then lined it up on the second pane. The glass gave with the first blow, and as the pieces glittered around him he felt a wall of warm air fall from the house.

Once the tinkling and clattering of the glass fragments had ceased, he stood still and listened. There could be no surprises. Whoever dwelled here would have heard the window shattering. Herkus did not believe he would call the police. The man whose home this was had gone to great lengths to secure it. Clearly there were things in here he did not want others to see.

He put one foot on the windowsill, gripped the frame, and hauled himself up. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he stepped on the draining board on the other side and lowered himself to the floor. He grunted as he straightened his back. A man of his size was not built for climbing over gates or through windows. He shivered. A sweat had formed on his body, and now it chilled him.

In the dark interior, he could make out the door to a hallway. He crossed to it, his footsteps as light as his bulk would allow, his breathing slow and shallow, his hearing strained for any movement around him.

A crack of light caught his eye as he left the kitchen. It formed a rectangle in the black. He went to it, ran his fingers over its surface until he found a handle. The door opened with a hard creak to reveal a wooden staircase. Below, a muffled voice.

A girl’s voice.