The driving rain had reached the layer of fabric closest to his skin by the time Viago unlocked the front door of his townhouse. He could already feel a clammy chill spreading down his spine from where the hair at his nape dripped into his collar. Suppressing a shiver and a sigh of relief, he pushed the door closed and reengaged each lock. His hand froze on the last one when its quiet click was echoed by a creak of floorboards from above.
He slid into the corner where the shadows were thickest. The usually reliable moonlight was mostly absent from the tall front windows, and for a moment, he wondered if he had mistaken the patter of rain or a branch blown by the wind for an intruder. But the unmistakable sound of a door opening and the spill of firelight at the top of the curved staircase dashed that brief hope. He waited in silence, not willing to give his position away if the intruder harbored similar doubts about the presence of another person.
Until he heard a voice call "Viago?" from the landing that overlooked the foyer from the second floor.
He ran a hand down his face as he let out a held breath. Then he stepped into the faint rectangle of light slashed by the bars of the balcony.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
