Mezzanine

| 57 |

The trap door on the ceiling practically disappeared in the chipping plaster and paint. If it hadn't been for the small metal chain latched to a hook beneath it, I might have missed it entirely.

"Any chance she moved all her shit up there?" I asked.

"Only one way to find out," Damien replied. He got down on his hands and knees. "Get on my back. See if you can reach the pull wire."

I did as he said, bracing myself against the wall for balance as I climbed up. I was tall enough to reach the cord on the handle without even jumping.

"Got it." I held on to the wire as I got off his back.

Damien stood up as I tugged on the cord, and the trap door released. He caught it as it came down, preventing it from slamming and making too much noise. A plume of dust and debris rained down on us from the attic. I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling a cough.

Damien grabbed the ladder connected to the trap door and slid it towards the floor, but he lost control halfway through. It clattered the rest of the way down, its feet crashing to the floor with a bang.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I ground my teeth, wincing as the sound echoed through the hallway.

"Shit," Damien whispered, his eyes meeting mine. "Sorry."

We stood in silence for a second, an uncommunicated agreement that we now needed to wait to make sure we hadn't been heard.

After about thirty seconds had passed and we still hadn't heard anyone else entering the house, I broke the silence with a whisper. "We need to get moving."

Damien nodded, taking the first steps up the ladder. The wooden rungs creaked and bent slightly under his weight. "Why does this feel like a bad idea?" he asked.

I chewed on my bottom lip. I was getting the same feeling he was. Even if Madame Leclerc hid all her books, notes and other demonic paraphernalia in the attic, if she caught us up there, we'd be trapped. There was only one way out—the way we came in. We'd be even more vulnerable than if she found us in the house where at least we'd have a shot to get away.

I couldn't think about things like that. I shook off my nerves and followed Damien up to the attic.

The splintery, wooden ladder groaned beneath me. I couldn't help but worry that the thin, worn rungs might snap at any minute. When I neared the top, Damien held out his hand and I took it, letting him help me up the last few steps into the attic.

"It's so dark up here," Damien said. He reached into his pocket, took out his phone and hit the power button, but the screen remained black. "Shit, I forgot to charge my phone this morning."

I took out my phone and glanced at it, even though I already knew it was dead. "Same," I said.

"There's got to be a light somewhere." Damien glanced to the rafters. "Here!" A single bulb sparked to life as he tugged the small wire chain below it.

Dust particles danced in the dim, yellow light. I tried not to cough. The attic was unfinished to say the least, with exposed beams and faded pink fiberglass in the ribbed ceiling and walls. A few boxes that looked like they hadn't been opened in decades were stowed in the corners and against the walls. The cardboard bowed out from years of humidity and gravity taking its toll. It looked like the boxes would disintegrate if I so much as touched them, let alone tried to pick them up.

"It all looks so old," I whispered. "Like it's been here for years."

I shivered as a gasp of wind leaked in through the small crack in the window at the far end of the attic. It felt like a place no one had been in for years. What if we were wrong? What if Madame Leclerc hadn't moved anything up here, and now we were stuck in the most isolated spot in her house, just waiting for her to find us?