The Spell Trap

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen picked her way over the sleeping bodies and stood at the door, pressing her ear against the flaking paint. Muffled by the ward and wood, she heard male voices, calling out “Clear!” to each other from the other side and the creak of the stairs as they made their way up to the other level.

“The Van Helsings?” Verina pressed up against the wood beside her, their eyes lifting to the ceiling as they both held their breaths, listening intently as the footsteps creaked overhead, drifting dust down from the cracking plasterwork, before returning down the stairs.

“There’s no one up there. Place looks abandoned.”

“Something is odd. There were at least a dozen people here. There was a door around here somewhere, too,” a familiar man’s voice replied from the other side of the door. August Mason himself, Aislen thought wryly. She imagined that she could hear the rasp of his palm against the wood as he searched for it. “F-k! This wall just zapped me!”

“Faulty wirin