A table is overturned. Several plants are smashed right out of their pots. Lamps and pictures lay scattered about, some in pieces. There are dents, gashes, and holes in the walls and smears of blood on the walls, furniture, and carpet. By all that he sees, a pair of trolls might have done battle here.“Shaver?” Whistle blurts.“Wait.”But too late. Whistle is already darting ahead, down the hallway toward the kitchen and dining room. O’Keefe waits, listening, his Luger SPv3 in hand. He turns to open the panel beside the front door and check the household security system. Whistle comes running back up the hallway and dashes up the stairs to the second floor, shouting Shaver’s name. O’Keefe wonders why she goes through this exercise. It would be far more efficient and cautious of her to simply use her mage’s ability and survey the house from the astral.The security system informs him that only two live bodies are present.It’s still early evening, but for Shaver it’s obviously too late.
