This House of Burning Bones

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Was there anything sexier than breaking into someone’s house in the middle of the night? Moving from room to room in the darkness. Touching their special, secret, private things...

Course there wasn’t.

Andrew paused on the top step, listening.

Because sometimes these rich wanks had very big, very angry dogs — and it didn’t matter how carefully you scoped out their gaffs, you could always be surprised by a four-legged shredding machine with a taste for home invaders.

But the only sound was his breath, whooshing and hissing inside the ski-mask.

No sign of Fido.

Safe to step onto the landing.

A wee balcony overlooked the fancy double-height open hallway, with its fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, and fancy countryside view bathed in low, cold moonlight. There was even a fancy scroll-edged mirror at the top of the fancy stairs, and for a moment the world turned from a grainy green glow to a flare of bright white as the infrared LEDs on his night-vision goggles caught the shiny surface. Then the sensors adjusted, fading everything down again, revealing Andrew’s reflection in all its horror-film glory.

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