Allora wiped the sleeve of her trench coat across her left eye clearing away what blood she could. In the dark of the house, it looked like black face paint had been applied from her scalp down to her jawline. He could see a few drops splattered on the white blouse she was wearing. The gemstone in her headband flashed again, nearly blinding in the lightless foyer and Mitchell staggered back rubbing his eyes.
"Ah, shit!"
"We must be going. I am being sorry Mitchell. I am wanting to talk to you first but we are not having time. They are finding us."
As his vision cleared he felt a hand grab his wrist and drag him into the living room. Her grip was like banded steel. Behind him, something heavy hit the door followed almost immediately by a deep "whump" that Mitchell felt in his chest, and the whole house shook to its foundations. Cracks spiderwebbed through the paint and drywall around the door frame, as the cheap wood of the door cracked and bulged inward, while bits of popcorned ceiling rained down on both of their heads. Allora pitched forward slightly. He felt her grip loosen and, coughing and trying to suck air into his lungs again, he snatched his arm free.
"Hold the fuck up!" He coughed again and pulled in a deep breath. "Who are those guys, who the hell are you, and what is going on?"
"We are not having time!" Allora hissed. "The spell on the door is only having one charge and it is maybe only killing one of them. The other two will be coming and I am running out of mana crystals. We must go!"
"I don't... What? I'm not going anywhere with you. You're a goddamned crazy person! I'm calling the cops!"
Mitchell reached for his pocket but like a whip, Allora's hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist again.
"If you are not coming with me they will be killing you."
Her voice was low and deadly serious. Outside Mitchell heard the shouted conversation of one of the men. Her head snapped back through the small dining alcove to where the sliding patio doors stood closed. They were glass and had no fancy writing on them.
"The other two are circling behind. We must be hurrying!"
It was then that Mitchell noticed there was no furniture in the house. It was empty. On the countertop in the kitchen, he could see a few red solo cups and two large bags of oranges. There was no sofa in the living room, no TV, no pictures on the now cracked walls, no little table in the dining alcove, and no stove or refrigerator in the kitchen. He suspected if he flipped the light switch it wouldn't come on either.
Something clicked then and his eyes tracked back to the oranges.