One: Intrusion

Gregory Evanski's health was dwindling sooner than he had expected it to.  His hair was thinning at an alarming rate, his back was more stooped every day, and those infernal liver spots were sprouting up again.  He had brought out the cane from storage years ago for good measure, but he was leaning on it more every day, starting to rely on it for simple tasks.

The extravagant mirror held court in the corner of the room, gilded and tinted with every adornment.  Through the streaked glass would peer a man who resembled his father, before he died.  It would reveal an old face, with a head of hair that mere months ago was peppered and full.  Skin hanging off, back hunched, jowls shaking.  The sight startled him.  He no longer looked in mirrors, especially that one.

He pondered the situation, trying to recall when he last visited and realized that it had only been about a dozen years.  He swore beneath his breath, remembering the initial discovery when the effects had lasted several times longer.  But journeys were becoming more and more frequent.  The strength of it was waning or his body's ability to hold the substance was failing or a variety of other things that all meant awful, life-changing events would occur to him, if not soon, eventually.  Possibly life-ending.

He rolled his chair over to the intercom and pressed the button to his butler's quarter.  "Jeffery!" he called out, his voice thin with age.  He loathed and shuddered at the sound.

He sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the large estate creek and shift around him, waiting for the shuffle of steps that meant that his butler was on his way to join him.  Jeffery was getting old as well, and had been through this process about a half dozen times, accompanying his master through each step.

But Jeffery's steps weren't sounding.  Evanski frowned, and stood with a crack of old bones and strain of deteriorating muscles.  He hit the button again and after  a prolonged crackle he called "Jeffery?" again, louder than before.

He heard a scrape of feet, stomping up the steps at a rate Jeffery hadn't managed in a decade.  With a flick of his thumb, several events happened just out of sight as Evanski's room prepared for what he had assumed the moment Jeffery hadn't responded.  Pessimism was good for something after all.

Two lithe, black-clad figures, one shorter than average and one unorthodoxy tall, scrambled into the room and a moment later, they were on the ground, unconscious.  Evanski pattered over to them, feet shuffling across the thick carpet slowly and soundlessly.  The smaller intruder's facial features fell under his gaze and upon seeing the high cheekbones and blonde curls of his eldest niece, he started shaking.

Until this moment, he had not realized the severity of the situation, not expected something so foul to be occurring.  He wondered briefly if her mother had put her up to this and then wondered if her mother, his youngest sister, were still alive.  He rifled through the small satchel and confiscated all credit cards and money, replacing them with counterfeits.  The machete, small hand gun, and rope he also took, leaving no replacement.  A small pouch lay at the bottom with no apparent purpose, but upon putting his hand into it, he found he could reach quite far into it and that his fingers were brushing against things that should be far too large for the bag's miniscule size.  He took that too, smiling softly at the heirloom.

He gazed at the woman's face for a long moment, remembering her as a child, and then shook his head at what they'd all become.

Moving them would not be an option due to his failing health and so he phoned the police.

"911, what's your emergency?" A cool, oddly chipper female's voice filtered through the phone.

"Yes, I'd uh... I'd like to report a break in," his odd, old accent sounded strange against her voice.

"Where are you located sir?"

"Nine-eighteen Hound Street.  It's south."

"I wasn't aware of a residence at that address?"

"Is this really the time to be debating this?"

The voice paused before asking again, colder than before, and more reserved, "Has anyone been harmed?"

"I don't believe so, but I've not checked my staff yet."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm aging."

"Were you harmed?"

"No, I'm fine.  Have you sent someone?"

"Yes, the police are on their way.  How many intruders?"

"Two, as far as I've seen.  Two came into my rooms."

"Do you know what they were after?"

Evanski's smile was wane, but must've translated through the phone nonetheless.  He hung up.

He plodded over to his concealed elevator and rode to the entrance to his estate and Jeffery's quarters.  The elevator was sleek and minimalistic, at odds with the vast, exquisitely decorated rooms that surrounded it.  Upon finding the house, Evanski, had removed what was once a dumbwaiter and a hidden safe to accommodate this elevator, which, he believed was one of the fastest in the country, though there was no need.  The estate sprawled, and so was only three feet at tallest floor, where, coincidentally, Evanski's study and chambers rested.

As the elevator doors slid soundlessly open, he saw what he had feared and assumed, a pile of ash in the middle of the hallway that could only be one thing.  Jeffery.

Reviews

[BetanuZwei]

Ooh this was captivating, and I'm really intrigued. Good luck with any further chapters!

[Nobody.]

I like this. I want to know what's wrong with Evansky, what happened to Jeffery and what all these strange goings on mean. I look forward to reading more. Sounds like you're taking this to a weird magical place. I love weird magical places.

Good stuff.

Cheers!