The Collector Book One: Mana Leak by Daniel I Russell

silently walked down the stairs, his back pressed against the wall. Shuffling footsteps continued across the kitchen floor.
    He inched closer to the bottom of the stairs, already looking around the hall.
    “Joseph!”
    Eleanor, behind him the whole way, placed a hand on his back.
    “Joseph,” she whispered again. “Come back up here.”
    Joe shook his head and impatiently waved her off. He descended all the way down and into the hall. Eleanor stayed close.
    More noises echoed from the kitchen: bumps and bangs, but tentative, almost hushed.
    “Can’t believe they have the nerve to break in here again,” he hissed. “They’ve got this coming.”
    “Please,” Eleanor pleaded. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
    Joe burst into a run down the hall and exploded into the kitchen. His socks skidded on the tiles as he tried to stop himself.
    “Joseph!”
    Eleanor dashed after him and entered the kitchen.
    The kitchen was empty.
    Joe scratched the back of his neck and looked around. He crossed the room to the back door and examined the lock.
    “What happened?” Eleanor asked.
    “I didn’t see anything.”
    “But we heard-”
    “I know, but I haven’t seen anyone.”
    “My lord, look at that…” Eleanor gasped.
    “What?”
    She pointed up at the window. The highest pane, which ran the entire upper length of the window, had been propped wide open.
    “That’s how they got out,” said Joe and squeezed his hands into fists.
    “Don’t be silly, Joseph. Look at how narrow it is. I doubt even I could squeeze through that.”
    “Then what about it?”
    “It was closed when I went upstairs, closed and locked. And smell…”
    They both sniffed.
    “The eggs and bacon have gone,” she said.
    Joe moved away from his grandmother and sat at the dining table, head in hands.
    “I’m not buying this hocus-pocus, Grandma. There has got to be a rational explanation for all this.”
    Eleanor approached the window and looked up at the open pane, deep in thought.
    “Arthur always opened that window when I complained about the smell clogging up the house…”
    Joe peered up from the table.
    “You still think that this is Granddad trying to make contact? Come on. You have to wake up. The smell has gone because of the open window, that’s easily explained.”
    “Then what about the window?”
    “Couldn’t you have forgotten that you opened it?”
    “Oh, so now you think that I’m senile as well as a crazy mystic?”
    Joe shook his head.
    “No, Grandma. I-”
    “Look, I know that window was closed when I left this room. You yourself came downstairs because you thought there was someone in here. This is not easily explainable, and you know it.”

Frank Harper Takes a Shower
    1.
    Anne hadn’t slept at all through the night, even after the storm had decided it had beaten Penny Crescent enough and moved on. Following the booming thunder, howling winds and hammering rain, Anne had lain in the silence, waiting for the heavy footfalls of Frank to pound up the stairs.
    His mood when he’d left was more turbulent, more frightening than the storm. The manner in which he drove off worried Anne. She had visions of him ploughing into another vehicle at speed; the car launching up in a big ball of fire, all twisted metal and burning flesh. She shook the picture from her head and reminded herself that Frank had returned safely on both of the previous occasions.
    At least he didn’t come back when Eleanor’s grandson visited last night , she thought. Now there is a situation that would’ve needed some explaining.
    She turned to the sink and placed the kids’ used breakfast bowls into hot, soapy water. She nearly dropped them as Bronwyn called out from the living room.
    “Dad’s back!”
    She grabbed a tea towel and quickly dried her shaking hands. She dragged her fingers through her messy hair, trying to look halfway decent.
    Through the noise of the television and Betsy’s excited barking, she heard the key in the front