We made our way past the closed doorways of numbers 4 and 3, shut fast against the chilly morning with no light or signs of life yet within. It was the same for the club: kitchen door closed, no light, no signs of movement. The one difference was that its basement gate had been left half-open.

The maids must have gone into the first house, for its kitchen door stood ajar, a glow from candles and a lit hearth showing the edge of a table and the glint of pans.

Keeping a wary eye upon that door, we climbed the club’s back steps. I peered into the small side window, poised to run if someone was within the gloom. No one inside, but I made out the shapes of an unlit hearth, bare shelves, and unused hooks for hanging pots and pans. More or less empty, although a number of sacks were propped against the far wall, packed full of something that could not be recognized in the dim light. A lumpy something. What would merit so many sacks?

“It is clear,” I whispered.

I drew back to let Evan peer in, a slight huff telling me that he, too, was puzzled by the unused kitchen. Would not a club serve food?

I tried the door handle, expecting it to be locked.

It turned, the door opening a small way under my tentative weight. I looked at Evan. He raised his brows.

Indeed.

Onward, then.

I pushed the door open and we stepped into the dark, deserted kitchen of the Exalted Brethren of Rack and Ruin.

I crossed the empty floor to the line of hessian sacks against the wall, listening for any kind of sound in the house. All was quiet, although I could not ignore the feeling that someone else was still inside the building, that preternatural awareness of another living presence.

Evan carefully closed the back door and just as silently crossed the room to join me at the line of sacks. Suddenly nervous, I glanced at him: Ready? On his nod, I tentatively pulled open the first sack in the line, ready to snatch back my hand. We both leaned in.

A gleam of green glass.

Empty wine bottles.

I breathed out, feeling a little absurd. What had I expected: body parts? I flipped the top of the sack back into place. As it happened, a little too forcefully: the slight tug of hessian dislodged the top bottle. The clink of glass against glass rang out in the silence. We both froze, listening.

No footsteps. No voices. No movement.

Even so, I whispered, “I do not think we are alone.”

Evan nodded and lifted the flagon. “We should proceed with caution.”

And with a blunt weapon, I thought but did not voice.