The building had forty floors, each one packed with luxury apartments, all of them owned by Winter. Normally, the elevator wouldn't take them up without prior clearance—the system would request permission from the penthouse owner first. But today, there was no request. No restriction.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, carrying them to the topmost level. That, more than anything, confirmed their suspicions. The place was deserted.
With a quiet chime, the elevator doors slid open, revealing the vast, elegant interior of Winter's penthouse. They stepped directly into the living room, which was an understatement to magnificence.
The living room was a masterpiece of modern design, sprawling and lavish, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the London skyline. Sleek leather furniture sat in careful arrangement, a marble coffee table at the center holding an untouched glass of wine. A massive chandelier, shaped like cascading ice, hung from the ceiling, its crystal prisms catching the morning light.
But the air felt wrong.
Too still. Too quiet.
Naomi's steps were hesitant as she moved further inside, her eyes scanning the room. "Winter?" she called out. Her voice echoed, bouncing off the pristine walls.
No answer.
"Well, looks like she's not here, either," she muttered in disappointment.
Michael, more pragmatic, strode toward the kitchen, running his fingers over the countertop. There were little specks of dust covering it. With signs of long-term neglect.
She had been missing for a long time.
"I think Winter's been AWOL for quite some time," he murmured.
Naomi nodded, rubbing her arms as if shaking off a chill. "Yeah. Thompson did say she's been offline for about a month now, guess he was right,"
They exchanged a glance, then moved deeper into the penthouse, searching for more clues. The hallway leading to the bedrooms was just as pristine, the polished floors gleaming beneath soft overhead lighting.
Michael reached for the nearest door, pushing it open, revealing the master's bedroom.
The bedroom was as grand as expected; wide, spacious, and decorated with a minimalist elegance. A king-sized bed with satin sheets sat in the center, the deep blue fabric slightly ruffled. Across from it, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of London, the morning light spilling through. Yet some of the windows were wide open, allowing a cold draft to sweep in, rustling the sheer curtains.
Beside the glass window stood a small antique table; dark mahogany, its surface polished to a shine. Resting atop it was a simple, leather-bound journal. The brown cover looked worn, as if frequently handled, and a thin strap wrapped around it, securing its pages.
Naomi's gaze swept the room, taking in the little details that felt off. A dress, deep blue and silky, was draped over the bed as if tossed there carelessly. On the bedside table, Winter's phone lay untouched, its screen dark. That alone was unsettling; Winter was never without her phone.
Naomi strode over to the table and grabbed the phone, she turned it on and began exploring.
"Strange," she muttered as she scrolled through Winter's chat history. "The very last message she replied to was... Mine?"
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Strange. When was that?" he asked
Naomi's jaw dropped slightly as her eyes landed on the date recorded by the phone. "The 3rd of march... Her birthday," she replied
Michael sighed deeply. "That's almost two months ago," he muttered
Naomi nodded. "Yeah, and I just remembered something. That dress was what she planned to wear on that day, we picked it together," she said, pointing to blue dress on the bed.
Michael walked up to the bed and picked up the dress, he picked it up and examined it for a while. After a few seconds, he spoke. "It still has a price tag, which means she never wore it yet," stated
"And with the disorderliness of everything around here," Naomi added. "My best guess is that, either something caused her to take off in a hurry and leave everything behind. Or...
"She never left the house," Michael finished her statement
Noami sighed and sat on the chair beside the table, while Michael pondered their next move. They were basically at a dead end because if Winter never left the penthouse, where the fuck where they supposed to begin searching.
"But if she never left, then where did she go? How is she even missing? We have to be sure," Naomi voiced out in panic, this wasn't a good thing at all. It wasn't like Winter was playing hide and seek and suddenly got lost, something had to have happened
"I'll confirm from the cctv footages," Michael muttered with a reassuring smile before walking out of the room. While Naomi remained on the chair, she picked up the journal on the table and began to read it's contents.
Naomi smiled after reading a few sentences. "Oh, Winter. Don't tell me you planned on making our family's story into another one of your movies," she chuckled and continued reading until she came across an abrupt pause in the story. This was weird because the last word in the journal wasn't even complete
"Hmm, she was interrupted while writing," Noami muttered. "So, where is it?"
She dropped the journal and stood up, glancing around the room in search for a particular something. And then she saw it
A pen. Small and sleek, lay near the foot of the bed.
Noami's face brightened as her gaze landed on the pen, it was as though she had found a very important clue.
She quickly approached the bed and reached out to pick the pen. It looked ordinary at first glance... Not until her senses flared.
The pen was radiating energy. Faint, but distinct.
But Naomi wasn't fazed, instead she picked the pen and brought it closer to her face. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the object, and after a few seconds, a smile formed on her lips.
"Just as I thought," she muttered softly and continued to inspect the room for more evidence.
And just then, Micheal barged into room with a serious expression. "I think you might be right, Winter never left the penthouse," he muttered with a sense of panic. But Naomi didn't respond to him, she was lost in her hunt for evidence.
"All her cars are accounted for in the garage, and there was no sign of her leaving the building," he continued, watching as Naomi moved from place to place, acting like a detective trying to put together pieces of clues
"Are you..."
Shhhhhh!
He tried to speak again, but Naomi shushed him.
"I'm onto something," she said. "I can feel the presence of multiple energy signatures, they're faint but I can feel them anyway,"
Michael was utterless, he couldn't understand what his sister was talking about but he knew he could trust her. So he just remained quiet and watched her do her thing.
Noami kept moving about the room, pausing from time to time at certain spots and corners. This went on for several minutes until she suddenly halted at a particular spot in the room, her eyes gleaming with a look of realization. It was as if she had made a ground breaking discovery
"I was right, there's definitely supernatural energy here," she muttered, slowly moving her hands across the atmosphere, gazing intently at basically nothing. "The energy I feel on this spot is different from the one I sense from this pen,"
Naomi stated, showing Michael the ball pen she had found earlier. Then she tossed it to him.
Michael caught the pen and stared at it in confusion, he didn't know what exactly he was supposed to feel from an ordinary writing pen. He couldn't sense whatever energy his sister was sensing. But he had to continue flowing with Naomi, because whenever she was onto something, she didn't like to be disrupted in any way.
"Alright, so there's two different energy signatures?" he asked, trying to flow along with whatever little knowledge he had managed to understand from everything Naomi had said so far.
But Naomi shook her head. "Nope, it does seem like it. But there's actually three signatures, three different races," she corrected, like a professor trying to explain something to an high school student.
She didn't wait for Michael to respond before moving to another spot in the room, one that was more closer to the wall.
"The energy from the pen is calm and filled with warmth," Naomi said. "Like the one emulated from an elf..."
Michael's eyes widened at the mention of that particular race. "Winter?" he muttered with a look of realization
Naomi nodded. "Precisely, she was holding on to that pen when she transformed," she stated
"Hmm, so what of the second energy?" Michael asked
Naomi began her signature hand sway, she was feeling the atmosphere with her hands as though she could actually see and touch the tiny microscopic particles. Her expression turned serious for a while and she closed her eyes.
"I can't quite put a finger on it, but the energy I'm sensing here feels... Dark, eerie and very unwelcoming," she said, before clutching her necklace. "it has some resemblance with the energy from one of my stored energy signatures,"
Michael placed his hands on his chin. "So it's either a banshee, a lamia or a..."
"Demon," Naomi suddenly said. "It's that of a demon... Well, demons,"
"Hmm, how certain are you?" Michael asked with a look of doubt
Naomi sighed and stared at Michael with a look of disbelief and disappointment. "Are you seriously doubting my capabilities, Michael?" she asked sternly
Michael immediately forced a smile. "Relax, sister. I was merely joking. Please, carry on," he muttered, after remembering that Naomi did not like being doubted. She despised it.
Naomi smiled. "Good. Now for the third," she said before walking up to another spot in the room. She remained there for a while and closed her eyes, immersing herself in the craft of... God knows what.
She had always had a talent for sensing energy, and though the entire Corsaire family could sense different kinds of energy signature as it was crucial to their adaptation ability. Naomi's perception of energy was more terrifying, her ability to feel energy was on another level.
After a few minutes of being lost in meditation, Naomi's eyes suddenly shot opened. Her breath hitched and her eyes got filled with tears, her expression was like that of a person slowly drowning.
"Naomi!" Michael's eyes widened as he quickly ran towards his sister.