The taxi came to a screeching halt in front of Warehouse 12. The industrial district of 74th Street was a graveyard of rusted iron and crumbling brick, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of flickering streetlights. Rain began to fall again—a cold, relentless drizzle that soaked through my shredded velvet dress.
I stepped out, my bare feet flinching against the wet asphalt. The driver didn’t wait for a tip; he sped away the moment he saw the desolate look of the area. I stood alone in front of the massive corrugated steel door, the diamond on my finger feeling like a lead weight.
"Father?" I whispered into the wind.
The small side door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, the hinges groaning in a low, metallic protest. Inside, the warehouse was a cavern of darkness, filled with the silhoue
