Chapter 72: The Empty Raids
A heavy brass fire poker struck the leaded glass sidelight of the Harrington residence, sending jagged shards of crystal raining down across the frozen marble foyer. Montgomery drove his boot through the remaining lattice, the splintered mahogany frame snapping with a sound like a rifle shot in the freezing dusk. The iron bolt gave way beneath the combined weight of four desperate men, swinging inward to expose a dark cavern of dead, stagnant cold.
They surged over the threshold without wiping the snow from their boots, their breath billowing in white clouds that hung suspended in the drafty hall.
The air inside the great manor was even more suffocating than the howling squall on Crestline Avenue, carrying the foul odor of spoiled lard and burnt paper. The gr
