Adventure of Lilimeth Sullist 1

Lilimeth slips from the alcove, the dark tome hidden at her hip. Behind her, the floorboard gapes open over damp rot and splintered wood.

He straightens from the opened cache, knife low in one hand, eyes fixed on her instead of the hole. The lantern throws a hard yellow stripe up the basement wall and toward the stairs.

A faint pulse stirs at Lilimeth's side, as if the hidden book has heard him. His gaze flicks once toward her hip, then back to her face, sharper now.

Above them, the grand staircase rises into the mansion’s shadowed hall. One wrong answer, and he will follow her out of the basement, still hunting for the relic she has already claimed.

He does not advance. The knife stays low, but his eyes narrow on the gap between her hand and her hip, where the tome keeps giving off that sick little pulse.

The lantern wavers as he shifts his grip, and the yellow light climbs the stair rail above them. The opening at his feet sits ignored now, dark and wet.

Lilimeth lets her hand shake just enough to sell the fear. Her lantern slips from her fingers and strikes the stone with a hard clatter, flame flaring wild across the basement.

The Folklorist flinches and jerks his gaze down. The knife lifts by instinct, not toward her, but toward the sudden burst of light and shadow.

The lantern skids, spilling a swinging wash over the open floorboard, the stair tread, and Lilimeth's hip. The hidden tome gives off its sick pulse in the glare.

He takes one step after the lantern, then another, eyes dragged toward the moving light instead of her face.

Lilimeth slips past the angle of his body while he tracks the flame, the stairwell suddenly open above her. Behind her, his suspicion sharpens into a hard stare at the place she just stood.