They weren't even there yet.  They weren't even there yet.

Arthur did not think it possible, that he could hate the Brennan's more than he already did, but somehow he managed.  Wide green eyes adjusted to the dark cellar, decrepit wooden shelves and webs think enough to make sweaters.

Hatred was the easiest thing in the world, here.

"No, he said, soft but decisive.  "I'm sorry.  I don't want to go back, I want to see it.  If you're still willing to show me."

His fingers were tight around Malachi's.

"Please."