CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Are you sure this is the right place, Brynn?” Phoenix grumbled, pushing the half-rotted remains of a withered fruit from his arm.
The boy smirked over his shoulder and nodded. “It’s an abandoned warehouse. I spotted it yesterday when the guards were after me. I don’t think anyone’s been here for years.”
“I can see why,” Phoenix sniffed his clothing. “Having to dig through a mound of rubbish to get in would discourage most people.”
He peered into the gloom. Dust danced in shafts of morning sunlight streaming in through cracked roof tiles. Pigeons roosted on rotting ceiling beams, making soft cooing noises and leaving unpleasant mounds of pigeon-poo on the packed-earth floor. Here and there, piles of timber and scraps of furniture attested to a once-thriving busin
