The knock ca sharply at the door, jarring Mrs. Elspeth Hargrove from her evening routine. She had been sitting in her armchair by the small fireplace of her modest London flat, a steaming cup of tea resting on the side table next to her knitting.
Outside, the rain lashed against the windows, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of droplets mingling with the faint hum of distant traffic.
Elspeth glanced toward the door, her wrinkled fingers pausing over her half-finished scarf. Visitors were rare, especially now. At her age, most of her acquaintances were either too frail to climb the stairs to her flat or long since passed on. Even her friend, the Verenes, who might have stopped by for tea or a chat, were gone.
The thought of their loss- the horrific break-in that had taken their lives only a week ago- made her heart twist painfully.
The knock ca again, insistent yet restrained, as if whoever stood on the other side was trying not to seem desperate. Elspeth rose slowly, her joints protesting, and tightened her cardigan around her frail fra.
She shuffled to the door and peered through the peephole. A young man stood there, pale and damp from the rain. His wavy hair clung to his face in dark strands, and his posture was tense, as though he were bracing himself against the cold- or sothing worse.
"Who's there?" Elspeth called, her voice steady despite the flicker of unease in her chest.
The man hesitated, then spoke. His voice was low, almost apologetic. "My na is Karro. I... I knew the Verenes."
Elspeth froze, her hand gripping the edge of the door. The Verenes. Her dear friends. The family that had been torn apart by the senseless violence of that break-in. She had heard whispers of an adopted son, though she'd never t him.
Could this be him?
"What do you want?" she asked, her tone cautious.
"I need sowhere to stay," he said after a pause. "Just for a little while. Until I can... get myself sorted."
Elspeth hesitated. His pale complexion and hollow eyes gave him a ghostly appearance, and there was sothing guarded about the way he stood, as if he were holding back more than just grief. But the look in his eyes—raw and pleading—made her decision for her.
She unlatched the chain and opened the door. "Co in, then," she said, stepping aside.
Karro entered the flat hesitantly, his movents stiff and careful, as though he feared he might break sothing. His coat dripped onto the rug, and Elspeth winced, but she said nothing.
"Sit down," she instructed, gesturing to the worn sofa. "You're soaked through."
Karro obeyed, lowering himself onto the sofa with a faint sigh. Up close, he looked even worse- his skin was almost translucent, and the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept in days.
"I'll put the kettle on," Elspeth said, retreating to the small kitchen.
As she busied herself, she stole glances at him. There was sothing about him that unsettled her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was simply the weight of his grief—understandable, given what he'd been through.
When she returned with a steaming cup of tea, she found him sitting rigidly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. She placed the cup on the table in front of him and sat down in her armchair.
"So," she began, her voice gentle but probing. "You're the Verenes' son?"
Karro nodded, his gaze fixed on the tea. "Adopted," he said quietly. "They took in when I was a boy."
"They were good people," Elspeth said softly. "I've known them for years. What happened to them... it's unthinkable."
Karro's hands twitched slightly, but he didn't look up. "It shouldn't have happened," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
For a mont, neither of them spoke. The room was filled with the soft crackle of the fire and the distant sound of rain against the window. Then Elspeth broke the silence.
"What are you planning to do now?" she asked.
Karro shrugged, his movents slow and deliberate. "Find work. Keep busy. I can't... I can't think too much about it, or I'll go mad."
Elspeth nodded, understanding all too well the need to distract oneself from grief. "You're welco to stay here for a while," she offered. "It's not much, but it's warm, and you'll have a roof over your head."
Karro finally looked up, his grey eyes eting hers. For a brief mont, sothing flickered in his gaze—gratitude, perhaps, though it was quickly replaced by sothing more guarded. "Thank you," he said simply.
They lapsed into silence again, but Elspeth's curiosity got the better of her. "The Chase Family will be looking into the case, you know," she said cautiously.
Karro's head tilted slightly. "The Chase Family?"
"They're part of the Hunter's Association," she explained. "One of the leading families. When there's suspicion of... unnatural activity, they're the ones who step in."
Karro's expression darkened slightly. "Unnatural? You an... Magi?"
Elspeth nodded. "There've been rumours," she admitted. "The way the break-in happened, it didn't seem... ordinary."
Karro leaned forward, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Do you know who these Chases are? Where they might be?"
"They're reclusive," she said, eyeing him carefully. "But powerful. If I had to guess, they'd be here in London. The Association's headquarters is sowhere in the city."
Karro sat back, his expression thoughtful. For a mont, he seed lost in his own mind, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the cup. Then he spoke, his voice low. "Do you think they'll find out who did it?"
"If anyone can, it's them," Elspeth said firmly. "But, Karro... be careful. The Hunters' world isn't like ours. If you're thinking of seeking them out, you might find yourself in more danger than you realise."
Karro's lips twitched in what might have been a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.
Elspeth studied him, unease curling in her chest. There was sothing about him—sothing in his tone, in the way he spoke—that felt just a little off. But she told herself it was grief, nothing more. After all, he had lost everything.
The rain continued to fall outside as the conversation waned. Elspeth watched him carefully, wondering if she had done the right thing by letting him in.
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