Author's Point of View

The house had stood unchanged for years.

Caleb moved quietly into the darkened room, feeling his way over the splintered wooden balustrade. Time had stalled, as is apparent from the remaining smell of dust, yellowed paper, and a faint metallic tang. Not that there was anything Classical about the abandonment of the home. It maintained secrets that refused to be laid to rest but belonged to nobody.

Fiona moved silently right behind him, her keen eyes sweeping over every black crevice. "Are you certain this is where?" she whispered. Caleb nodded. This was the address that was listed with the letter in the files. This would...