The moment I stepped out of town, the air changed. It got colder, heavy. I felt it in my bones.

The woods weren't completely quiet. There were sounds, of course, but all wrong somehow. The rustle of unseen creatures, the crackle of branches, the distant hoot of an owl. Give me a honking car and a good police siren any day! A chill ran down my spine.

I kept walking, the doll guiding me through the underbrush. It wasn't leading me to a road or a clearing, not that I could tell. This felt like a path carved out of the woods themselves, like something out of a fairytale. I hated fairytales. Always so neat and tidy, with a hero always getting the girl and the villain getting his comeuppance. Life was messy, just like this whole situation.

Through the trees, a dilapidated cabin appeared. It was a ramshackle affair, leaning against the wind, the paint peeling, the roof sagging. The windows were boarded up, and the door hung crooked on its hinges. A porch swing creaked gently in the breeze. It looked like it had been abandoned for years.

I saw the doll spinning again. It pointed directly towards the structure.

From behind the building, a figure emerged. It was Krabat. His face was bruised, and he walked with a limp. He saw me but didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod of his head. A guard followed him, shoving Krabat towards a black sedan.

I crept closer, staying low, hidden in the shadows. The moonlight cast long, skeletal fingers across the overgrown lawn, revealing the face of the guard. It was one of the murder twins. I wanted to rush out and go after them but reminded myself that I had a different job to do. The little doll still pointed at the cabin.

Five more guards came out of the door. They were the same, all of them. Average faces, forgettable, like they'd been poured from the same mold. Murder twins might have been plausible, but sextuplets? Now I’d seen it all.

The car left, bringing the odds down to a gentle five against one. I needed to get in, but could I take them all? Could I sneak past them? My options were dwindling. Each one of those faces could be the one that noticed me.

Then, one of them stepped closer. He peered through the darkness, his eyes suspicious. I couldn’t stay hidden any longer. I slammed into the nearest murder twin, my fist a hammer blow. He went down like a sack of potatoes, his eyes wide with shock.

The others turned, confusion in their eyes, but I was already moving. They had the numbers, but I had the element of surprise. That, and superhuman strength. A whirlwind of punches and kicks, my body absorbed the force of their attacks. I couldn’t let them grab me. If they had read up on me since our last encounter, I’d be a clay statue. They’d just hold me down long enough for the sun to rise, to bake me like a clay brick, so I’d crumble into dust.

One by one, they went down. Four of them lay on the ground, knocked out, their identical faces contorted in pain. The last one scattered, and I was too tired to chase after him. I just stood there, panting, my clay body chipped but whole.

From up close, I studied the faces of the unconscious goons. They all looked exactly the same, up to a tiny mole on the chin. Not even twins would be that alike, let alone sextuplets. Magic, I realized. They weren't entirely human. More like constructs, like me. Flesh golems, maybe? I’d dealt with my share of strange creatures in Shadow Falls. This was new to me.

I turned and walked towards the open door. There was a girl to save, after all. I didn't see any sign of more men, or whatever the murder twins were. I figured that whoever put them here thought half a dozen is enough. Still, I needed to be careful.

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I checked the perimeter. Nothing. I moved closer, my hand resting on the revolver in my holster. Maybe I was walking into a trap, but I had to find out what was going on. I had to find Charlaine.

Dust swirled up as I stepped inside. The air was thick and stale, smelling of decay and something else I couldn’t quite place. It was heavy, like it was holding its breath. I felt like I was suffocating, and I didn't even really need to breathe.

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim yellow light. The furniture was covered in dust sheets. A fire had been built in the fireplace, but the embers were cold. The place was silent like a tomb.

My eyes scanned every inch as I walked through the room. The furniture was overturned, and the walls were scratched. In the corner, I saw a pile of clothes. They looked like they had been thrown there in a rush. I picked up a shirt. Krabat's shirt. It was stained with blood.

I checked the other rooms. The bedroom was small and dusty. The bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back as if someone had been sleeping there. A book lay open on the nightstand, its pages dog-eared and stained. I took a peek but couldn’t make out any words. This was like one of those old horror movies Anna loved to watch on the few date nights we had over the years. The ones where the lonely cabin in the woods was always hiding a dark secret.

I checked the bathroom. It was just a small room with a sink and toilet. I pulled a small box of matches from my coat pocket and lit one. I needed a little light. The bathroom had a single window, but it was boarded up. I checked behind the toilet. Nothing. I checked under the sink. I pulled out the garbage can. I kicked it over, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

There was something in the garbage. I reached into the trash and pulled it out. It was a piece of paper. A crude map. And an address, written in a language I couldn’t understand. The map wasn’t drawn for a town. I pocketed the paper just in case.

I went back and swept the cabin once more. There -- loose board near the fireplace. The wood was old and warped, yielding to my touch. I knelt down and found the handle of a trapdoor. Underneath lay a dark, gaping hole. it smelled faintly of damp earth and something else that I coudln't identify

A secret passage. I reached for my coat pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. Its beam illuminated the rough-hewn steps leading downward. The air grew thick and stale as I descended, a faint, musky odor clinging to the darkness. After what felt like an eternity, the passage opened into a small, dimly lit chamber. In the center, bound and slumped against a wall, sat Charlaine. Dirt smudged her cheeks, dried tears traced glistened paths through the grime.

Hurrying to her side, I knelt, throwing caution to the wind. I fumbled with the thick ropes binding Charlaine’s wrists. Charlaine’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then widening in recognition. A flicker of relief crossed her face, quickly replaced by confusion and a tremor that ran through her body. She croaked out, her voice hoarse,

I said, my voice gruff with relief.

I worked quickly, my clay fingers tugging at the ropes, loosening the knots. She looked at me, fear and confusion etched on her face. It made me want to punch something, anything, to let out the frustration that had been building up inside me.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

I said, gesturing towards the opening of the passage.

she whispered?

My eyes scanned the room for clues. The chamber was spartan, just a few bare walls and a single rickety table. There was no furniture, no personal belongings. It looked like a makeshift prison, a place meant to be temporary.

I helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but a grimace crossed her face.

I glanced at her wrists, where the ropes had cut into her skin, leaving red marks.

I said, my voice rough.

I helped her up, careful not to jar her injured wrists. We started back towards the passage, my hand resting lightly on her back. She leaned against me, her body trembling slightly. My deputy was a tough cookie, but even toughness has its limits.

As we climbed the steps, I glanced back at the chamber, a sense of unease settling over me. I knew that the danger wasn’t over. Whoever took her, whoever built this underground lair, wasn’t going to just let us walk away. They’d be watching, waiting for their chance to strike. But for now, I had to roll with the punches.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

The air outside was sweet and crisp, a welcome contrast to the musty air of the underground chamber. The murder twins were gone, all four of them. The smell of ozone and clove assaulted my noze. Maybe they weren't actually teleported, maybe they just popped like soap bubbles once they were no longer needed. There was a lot to talk about, and a lot of questions to answer. But first, I had to get Charlaine out of the woods.