The stairs to the second floor told a story. Wood, as old as the home but resurfaced at some point in the past decade. They were now scarred by scuffs, the wall with dents and black marks. A lot of people and equipment had moved along the stairs recently, heavier traffic than they had ever previously experienced. That traffic also took less care than the denizens would.
Olivier inhaled sharply as he arrived at the middle of the flight. Gaudy aftershave, two coats, one fainter than the other. A waft of anise, clove, and sage. Olivier paused, reached into his bag, and scribbled a note before slapping a yellowed parchment talisman on the wall.
He bent down to inspect a particular scuff on the top step. A heavy boot had pressed a deep crevice into the hardwood leaving a semi-circular imprint.
The second floor was brighter than the first. Blue crepe paper-colored walls, a hallway of soft yellow carpet. Clouds were painted above, a small handprint and the initials “LW” next to each tuft of billowing white.
Olivier inhaled again. New notes joined those from the stairwell. Blood, torn skin, oil and brass. Another set of notes in the moleskin. Another paper talisman prepared and attached to the door.
It hung loosely, the bottom hinge ripped from the molding and chips scattered from a hole on the right side. Elizabeth had done an impressive amount of damage to the solid Brazilian walnut door. The bolt had been removed from the jamb, but the handle remained.
Olivier whispered a silent prayer and stepped into Laura’s room.
The air surged. The walls wavered. His vision swam as he was overtaken by a powerful vertigo. He took a reflexive step back and the world ceased to lurch and shift.
He checked the talisman on the door. It was torn, with fragments smoldering on the hallway carpet. He collected the scraps, placing them in an external pocket of his satchel.
“Is everything alright?” called James from the foot of the stairs.
Olivier strode back to the stairwell and fixed the man with a stern look. “Everything’s fine. Could you get me a list of the first responders and police who came here? I’d like to ask them some additional questions. They may well tell me something about neighborhood activity that they were embarrassed to share in the wake of your tragedy.”
James nodded. “I’ll start working on that.”
Olivier watched James walk past the stairwell and heard a door open. Confident he wasn’t about to be interrupted, he turned back toward Laura’s room.
He pulled out two more talismans, deftly applied arcane calligraphy to each, and attached them on either side of the door. He closed his eyes and focused, a subtle, golden light wreathed his head as tendrils of dark flame crept up his ankles. He stepped back into the room.
Again, the walls wavered and the air surged. This time, however, it did not reach him. He took a second step. The air pushed harder but did not find purchase against him or his senses.
The walls were brightly colored, the same blue as the hallway but the carpet was more subdued, more gold than sunshine yellow. A veritable cornucopia of animals covered the walls in cartoonish murals that wrapped around three of the four walls. The east wall, the wall containing the shattered French doors to the balcony, changed theme. There, a mockup of the New York skyline was constructed out of oblong black and gray splotches highlighted by spots of yellow and white windows. Each building featured a small handprint and the initials “LW” on its roof.