Blood of the Devil

Chapter 11 - Curiosity Killed the Cat

The glow ahead of Letha disappeared just before her hands touched wood. She ran her fingertips from eye to hip height, until they brushed metal by her waist. Gripping the doorknob, Letha drew the door open, stepping back carefully, to avoid knocking her own foot. A floorboard creaked as she shifted her weight, but after a few seconds with her eyes closed, Letha edged the door wider.

The gymnast was sitting on the bottom stair, identical perches visible through her as they ascended into the roof. Her pale light reflected off the white paint on the walls, temporarily blinding Letha. Her hand to her eyes, the girl grunted. Even past the coloured splotched littering her vision, she recognised the ghost’s expression of triumph.

“I’m not impressed,” Letha snapped in a harsh whisper, but as the girl rose and drifted calmly up the steps, she added, “Yet.”

Shutting the door softly, Letha was left encased by the green glow, as she slowly followed the spirit up the stairs. The German seemed to flounce up, but Letha took a more cautious approach, gingerly testing each step before settling her weight on it. The gymnast tossed her an annoyed expression over her shoulder at the pace.

“Fold pike handspring,” she scolded.

“Easy for you to say,” Letha grumbled, wincing as the next step gave a little under pressure, “I’m infinitely heavier than you.”

After several tense moments, Letha ran out of steps, trudging instead onto a landing. The gymnast wasn’t letting off enough light for Letha to see by, and a grimy window blocked the sun’s rays on what Letha assumed was the far wall. Between her and the glass was shadow.

“Care to shed some light on the situation?” Letha asked the ghost grimly, starting forward before she could utter her garbled reply.

“Tuck spring land,” the girl said, folding her arms across her chest as she watched Letha shuffle to the window.

Letha’s foot connected with something solid, setting off a chain reaction of thuds, but she continued to struggle, eyes fixed on the glass. As one hand grazed the window, her other sent something crashing to the ground, and Letha cursed under her breath. She waited for a moment, eyes shut, but couldn’t hear anything.

Raising both hands to the window, Letha rubbed at the dirt with her fingers. After a few seconds, she pinned her sleeve across the heel of her palm, wiping with that until a portion was letting though light. Turning, she assessed the room around her. In what was probably the house’s attic, someone had piled all manner of things. A cupboard was sagging against the wall, propped up by packing boxes, and dust covered items were strewn about. What looked to be an armchair was nestled in a corner, with crates and boxes stationed between it and Letha.

Very slowly, she raised an eyebrow. At her feet, an old lamp rolled around, knocked from the box beside her, and she bent to pick it up. As she rested in gently back on the cardboard, Letha’s hands came away dust-smeared, and she looked at the ghost expectantly.

“And…”

With a deep sigh, the German pointed to the far side of the room, “Spring Handspring flip land.”

Narrowing her eyes, Letha trudged over, slipping between the boxes. She bumped a precarious pile, but grabbed the top before it fell, bracing the entire stack. When she was sure it was sound, Letha began again towards the wall, wiping her hands on her trackpants. The ghost followed her.

At her feet, pressed against the paint, was a dust-covered object. Casting a look over her shoulder at the gymnast, Letha knelt down, throwing the sheet off. Dust plagued her face, and she coughed heartily, waving her hand about to try and clear the air. Eventually, she could see the chest in front of her.