Elias stood outside the Draycott home, a crumbling brick building in one of Arkwright's poorest districts. Smoke from the factories clung to the air, mixing with the stench of unwashed streets. He adjusted his coat, hesitating before knocking on the splintered wooden door.
The image of Marian Draycott, her tearful face and trembling hands as she begged him to find her husband, flashed in his mind. He sighed, steeling himself.
The door creaked open.
"Mr. Thorne," Marian said, her voice trembling. Her face was thin, her auburn hair tied back messily. She looked exhausted, yet her eyes held a desperate hope. "Please tell me you've found something."
Elias removed his hat and stepped inside. "I came to check in. May I?"
Marian stepped aside, wiping her hands on her apron.
The room was small and stifling. Clotheslines hung overhead, filled with damp laundry. The air smelled of soap and steam. A stove hissed in the corner, its warmth oppressive.
Three girls worked quietly in the room.
Clara, the eldest at twelve, folded shirts with practiced precision. Beth, nine, scrubbed a shirt against a washboard, her hands raw and red. Anna, just six, struggled to wring water from a heavy cloth.
Elias glanced at them briefly before turning to Marian.
"Sit, Mr. Thorne," Marian said, gesturing to a rickety chair. "I'll get you some tea."
Elias shook his head. "Please, don't trouble yourself. I'm here to talk."
Marian stood still for a moment, clutching her apron. "You've found something, haven't you?" she asked. Her voice wavered, teetering between hope and fear.
Elias hesitated. He thought of the warehouse—the bloodstained symbols, the acrid smell, and the shadowy creature that emerged from the rift. He thought of the horrors he had seen and the questions he still couldn't answer.
"I've made progress," he said carefully. "But there are complications."
Marian stepped closer. "Complications? What does that mean? Is Henry alive? Please, tell me the truth."
Elias looked away. The girls had stopped working, their eyes fixed on him. Clara clutched a folded shirt tightly. Beth sat frozen at the washboard, and Anna tilted her head, confused but curious.
He turned back to Marian. "I can't say for certain yet," he said. "I need more time to piece things together."
Marian's hands clenched into fists. "You know something. I can see it in your face. Why won't you tell me?"
Elias sighed. "Because I don't have all the answers. And until I do, I don't want to give you false hope—or despair."
Marian's shoulders sagged. Her lips trembled as she looked at him, then at her daughters. "I just need to know what happened to him," she whispered.
Elias nodded, his jaw tightening. "And you will. But this isn't a simple case, Marian. There are things…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain the inexplicable.
Marian stepped back, her gaze drifting to the stove. "Henry always believed in making a better life for the girls," she said softly. "He worked himself to the bone, but he never complained. He wanted them to go to school, to have chances we never did."
She wiped her eyes with her apron. "But now? Look at them. They're working instead of learning. And it's not enough."
Elias glanced at the girls again.
Clara's hands moved methodically as she folded clothes, her face stoic. Beth scrubbed with renewed intensity, her small shoulders hunched. Even little Anna had resumed wringing clothes, though her tiny hands struggled with the weight.
"They're strong," Elias said quietly. "They're doing everything they can."
"They shouldn't have to," Marian said sharply. "They should be in school, not breaking their backs for pennies. Henry promised me they'd be scholars. Now I don't even know if they'll have enough to eat next month."
Elias said nothing, guilt tightening in his chest. He thought of when Marian had first hired him.
She had come to his office weeks ago, her face streaked with tears. She had begged him, her voice cracking as she explained her husband's disappearance.
"Please, Mr. Thorne," she had said. "My daughters need their father. I need him. I'll pay whatever I can, just please find him."
Elias had almost refused, knowing how little she could afford to pay. But the fire in her eyes had stopped him. He had taken the case, though now he wondered if he had made a mistake.
Back in the present, Marian turned to him, her eyes filled with fresh tears. "Please, Mr. Thorne. Tell me you'll find him."
Elias met her gaze, his voice firm. "I will. I'll find the truth, no matter what it takes."
Marian nodded weakly, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "Thank you," she whispered.
The girls said nothing, but Clara's posture straightened slightly. Beth's scrubbing slowed, and Anna looked up at him with wide eyes.
Elias tipped his hat as he left. The cold air outside was a harsh contrast to the suffocating warmth of the laundromat. He lit a cigarette, the flicker of flame briefly illuminating his face.
He exhaled a plume of smoke, his mind racing.
He hadn't told them everything. The truth was too horrifying, too uncertain. What good would it do to burden Marian and her daughters with talk of rituals and shadowy creatures?
"She's already carrying enough," he muttered to himself. "Let her keep what hope she has left."
But the thought didn't ease the knot in his chest. As he walked through the foggy streets, the image of the Draycott family lingered in his mind.
Their struggle was a painful reminder of why he had taken this case. It wasn't just about finding answers—it was about giving them some semblance of closure.
Elias took another drag from his cigarette, his resolve hardening. Whatever the truth was, he would find it. Even if it led him further into the shadows.