Page 64 of Devil May Lie

“What did you say?” Beryl turned to glance at him over her shoulder and he made out the movement, though he couldn’t distinguish her features. She laughed, and he didn’t get the joke but smiled knowing she could see him at least. “Just don’t touch anything with those bloody hands.”

“Okay.” He held them out in front of himself, determined to listen. He always did what his big sister told him to. She knew best. There wasn’t a smarter person on the entire planet than Beryl.

“Follow me closely; I know you can’t see well.”

Berga listened to the sound of her steps on the stairs and concentrated on keeping one behind, the creaking of the old wooden boards leading him as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness surrounding them. He could make out her shape now but not much else.

“Is Rae coming to your performance?” he asked, wanting to before he forgot, but he must have said something wrong because his sister abruptly stopped.

“What? Why are you asking that?”

“I saw the two of you outside school the other day.” Berga frowned. “Aren’t you friends?” They’d been holding hands with each other. Oh. “Is he your boyfriend?”

He may only be six, but Beryl was fifteen and a teenager. That was practically an adult. Personally, he didn’t think that scrawny Rae Danvers was good enough for his sister, but she’d once explained to him that, as her brother, he needed to respect her decisions, so he’d pretend to like Rae if that’s what she wanted.

“Sort of?” She blew out a breath and started descending the stairs again, though her steps weren’t as careful as they’d been prior to his question.

He saw her head turn and peer at him a second time over her shoulder but barely made out where her mouth was when she spoke again.

“This is important, Bergie. Don’t tell—” Her words were cut off by a sharp scream as she missed a step and tumbled forward.

Berga lifted a hand toward her outline, about to grab onto her, but then recalled the blood on his hands. She’d told him not to touch anything, and here he was already about to break his promise. He pulled back and watched as her form crashed down the rest of the stairs and landed with a hard thud.

“Beryl?” Berga remained paused in the center of the staircase, blinking against the darkness. “Beryl, who shouldn’t I tell?”

Why wasn’t she answering?

“You said it was important,” he reminded. When there still wasn’t an answer, he folded his arm, careful not to touch his hand to his chest and stain his own shirt, and blindly felt around until his elbow made contact with the railing. Using that to guide him, he slowly made his way down, listening.

“Are we playing a game?” Sometimes she liked to tease him. She’d hide behind one of their bedroom doors or in their closet and jump out to give him a scare. “It’s not fun this time because I can’t see.”

Berga’s elbow came to the end of the railing and he paused before crouching down. He sat on the final step, planting both feet on the concrete floor before sliding them forward to doublecheck it was a flat surface from there. When his toes bumped against something, he frowned.

“Beryl?” He moved to his knees and shuffled forward until he came up against whatever was blocking the path. A rough material tickled at his skin and he recalled his injured knee too late. “Sorry. I don’t think I got blood on you though.” The bleeding had stopped before she’d found him hiding, after all. “Hey. Who shouldn’t I tell? You didn’t finish your sentence.”

This wasn’t going to do. He was going to need to use his hands.

“If you don’t say anything, I’m going to touch you. I know you said not to touch anything but…” It was obvious she’d fallen, he’d seen it happen—mostly—and clearly this was her on the ground and her skirts brushing against his knees. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Was she afraid?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell dad.” Maybe her outfit was dirty and she was afraid of getting punished like he’d been. “Being grounded isn’t so bad. Beryl?”

She didn’t respond so Berga did as he said he would and reached out with the hand that’d been less dirty at the beginning. It’d probably dried there as well and he wouldn’t spread any blood to her anyway.

He felt the poof of her skirts first, then lifted his arm, carefully moving it up a couple of feet to where he imagined her shoulder might be before trying again. His fingers came into contact with something silky and soft and he realized it was her hair.

“Your clip fell out,” he said, still blindly touching her. Whenever he was scared, she’d cup his face and put their foreheads together and reassure him it was all going to be all right. He wanted to be there for her the same way she’d always been there for him. “Don’t worry, I—”

There was something wet.

“Are you crying?” He tipped his head closer but he couldn’t hear anything. It didn’t sound like she was crying. It didn’t sound like…

Anything.

“Beryl?” Berga forgot about her order not to touch anything entirely and reached out with his other hand, finding her shoulders and lifting her. It was a struggle because she was so much bigger than he was, but he managed to gather her close enough he knew her head was now in his lap.

He stared down until he could make out the blurry outline of her face. “Are you hurt?”

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