She struggled up out of sleep, grasping at his arms, and blinking. With a gasp, a candle flared to life by the couch where she lay. “How?” she said, cleared her throat, and tried again. “How?” She pushed herself upright, ignoring the fact that she didn’t have any pants on, and shoved the blanket aside.
Bracing both hands on the couch cushions, she closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind counting and sensing. “This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered, glancing up at him. “They can’t have tracked you.”
Isaac’s heart was racing despite his best efferts to calm himself. “Well, they did. They’re here— we need to—” His words were cut off by a knock on the door and he froze. “Pretend I’m not here,” he whispered to her. “I’ll hide upstairs, hopefully they’ll just go away.” He didn’t wait to be asked before he dashed up the stairs, hiding himself under a spare bed.
The knock on the door came again, this time harder and more aggressive sounding. “Hey, lady, let us in!” a deep voice called. “You’ve got something that belongs to us.”
Before she could respond or caution him or even explain, he was gone, up the stairs and swallowed by the darkness. Snarling under her breath, she got up and snatched up a walking stick from beside the door. Then she jerked it open.
“It is three in the morning,” she snarled, before flipping the overhead light on full in their faces. “You woke me up after an incredibly crappy day, and there had better be a damn good reason for it. One you can express in about five words.” She stood feet apart, both hands gripping the staff and clearly ready to strike.