Page 74 of Eldritch

Sybil couldn’t help but shake her head and smile as she headed toward the staircase. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait,” Pauline said.

Sybil stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned toward her.

“Look, I didn’t want to leave this until tomorrow. When you were gone, tonight at dinner, Letisha was acting really strange.”

Sybil frowned and unzipped her coat. Concern slid through her. “What do you mean?”

“A little loopy. We asked her if she was okay, and she came off snarky. Odd for her.”

“Maybe she was just tired. New meds and all.”

“I get that. And maybe she was okay. But I thought you’d want to know.”

Sybil didn’t feel any deception or the usual snippiness coming off of Pauline. “Okay, thanks. See you in the morning.”

Sybil ascended the steps, deliberating whether she should check on Letisha. She hesitated, but then reasoned Letisha might not be asleep.

When she reached Letisha’s room, she tapped on the door. No response came.

She knocked on the door again. “Letisha, it’s Sybil.”

No answer. Cautiously, Sybil tried the door, expecting it to be locked. It inched open. First, she noted the warm glow of a lamp by the bed. Rumpled sheets and pushed-down coverlet showed that someone had slept in the bed.

“Letisha?” She entered the room. The ensuite bathroom was unoccupied.

A chill passed over Sybil, even though she still wore her coat. A thought hit her.

Letisha is in the basement.

Her feet carried her out of the bedroom, and she closed the door on the way out. She let her instinct carry her.

This is stupid. You’re stupid, Sybil. She isn’t where you think she is. Why would she be?

Still, she pressed on. Pauline had turned off all the lights, so Sybil turned on the ones that illuminated the staircase and the Great Hall. She waited a moment, her breath coming quicker. Tonight, the house was different. Odd. More off balance than usual. Her skin crawled.

“I feel you,” she whispered.

Her heartbeat quickened as she headed to the cellar.

The door stood open a few inches.

A cool draft came from the cracked open door. She listened. Nothing. No sounds. Stillness enveloped the entire house, so solid and echoing that Sybil held her breath.

The door cracked open farther. Sybil stepped back with a soft gasp.

Ignoring the heavy, almost oppressive feeling deep in her stomach, she pushed the door wider. The darkness was complete. Letisha wasn’t down here. How could she be with no illumination?

Despite that fleeting thought, she reached in and clicked on the cellar light. It didn’t work. She flipped the switch more than once.

“Damn it,” Sybil muttered under her breath.

For a second, she thought of the old trope of the idiot going into the cellar at the haunted house. The stupid woman in the movie who always walked into danger. The man with more bravery than common sense who ventured too close to the ledge. She didn’t aspire to be that person.

She swept her cell phone flashlight over the steps. Nothing and no one.

Come on, Sybil. You can do this. Letisha needs you. You aren’t afraid of what’s down there. You aren’t.

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