Blood of the Devil

Chapter 34 - Death and Goliath

Twenty seconds passed too quickly, but at the exact moment they did Letha's pride forced her to peel away from Mickey. He let her go reluctantly, keeping in contact until she had stepped bodily out of reach. Her eyes darted to her brother's prone form, watching his chest rise and fall as Min took his pulse and laid a hand across his forehead. She didn't want to be grateful: she wanted to rage and rail against the hypocrisy of the woman who had kidnapped her nursing her brother back to health. But she was too bloody tired. So when the woman looked over her shoulder, an amazed expression on her face, Letha simply nodded.

"Thank you."

This was a day of stunning revelations for Mickey; he'd never expected to hear her say those words. But he swallowed heavily, tried not to think about the sudden cold against his chest where her warm, thin frame had left his, and also nodded.

"We should leave," he said softly, "before your fath..." Letha stiffened and he skirted the word. "Before the others come back."

She glanced at the open door behind them, confusing creeping onto her face from beneath the weariness. "I don't know where they could be. I had thought h-they'd be here, gloating and..."

Her head swung back to her brother, and then she squeezed her eyes tight. As if even looking at him hurt her. "This isn't over," she intoned gravely, fist clenching at her side, "But I'm never bringing him back here. He's free now." Her eyes opened suddenly, staring into Mickey's and right into his soul. "No matter what."

He agreed with a nod and a sudden urgency infiltrated the room. He walked purposefully to Hadrian's bed and scooped his thin body up in his arms. He was a long kid, but weighed next to nothing. Without thinking on that too long, Mickey swivelled and led the way out of the room. He felt more than saw the others fall in behind him as he thudded down the stairs, just as he felt it when Letha stopped. He paused at the bottom and turned back.

"What are you doing?" He asked softly, not quite comfortable enough to talk properly. Letha was right; it didn't make sense for the Sins not to be here. And he wasn't going to push his luck by speaking at full volume.

She didn't reply for a moment, long enough that all four of them were staring up at her before she lifted a hand. "Just give me a moment. I have to get something."

It was strange, Mickey decided, but the urge to chase after her wasn't there anymore. She could handle it; he'd probably just get in the way. And even if he wasn't, she'd berate him as if he were. Whatever it was, he knew she could handle it. Some strange peace came over him and he decided that he hadn't been lying when he said he had faith in Letha Antitheus.

Completely unaware that she was at the center of someone else's epiphany, Letha turned and marched to the end of the corridor. This time, she didn't watch her footsteps, didn't check that each step was secure; her life was already falling apart at the seams so what more could a little structurally unsound architecture do?

Taking the questionable steps two at a time, she pushed through the door at the top and went straight to the chest. The leotard was thrown behind her, the wedding dress gripped in both her hands and shaken until the picture fluttered from beneath it's skirts. She snatched it up, accidentally creasing the corner, and then held in reverently in her palms. She stared down at her mother's tiny, faded face and wondered briefly whether she looked down on them or not? Or up... She shook off the thought; if the woman had any luck, she wouldn't have to watch their misery at all.

She clambered to her feet, tucking the picture into her pocket, and turned only to come face-to-face with a very angry nun. Letha startled, pulse leaping at her throat, but she fought hard to keep the reaction from showing. The old woman sneered at her, circling her gently at a half-pace, half-glide.