Wicked Little Creatures

4

In the beat of silence afterward, she could hear Lizzy relaxing, as if the acknowledgement released her from the personal vise she clamped around herself. She fell back beside Cheri, her arms stretched over her head so their fingers brushed against each other. She was as icy as before.

"How could you tell?"

"A bunch of little things. Too cold, too pale. I've been here eleven years and I've never seen you before."

Lizzy turned to give her a raised eyebrow. "I could have been new."

Cherie nibbled the inside of her lip. "Maybe. The newbies usually don't come up here. I considered that if not for two things. One, the Sisters put a hold on admittance so they didn't go over their living capacity. Least that's what it says on our website. Do you know what that is?"

"I'm dead not blind," Lizzy grumbled. A wrinkle appeared between her delicate brows. "And the other thing?"

"You flinched when I said Alice wasn't the first dead body I'd seen."

Lizzy turned to look at her. "But you weren't talking about me. Did you mean your parents?"

Cherie shook her head. "No, they died in Katrina. I don't remember much about them at all."

"What's Katrina?"

"Big hurricane, hit New Orleans a decade ago. I thought you were dead not blind?"

Lizzy made a face. "I do miss things. Time passes differently," she said, her eyes staring up at the webbed ceiling. "If I don't pay attention I miss years going by."

Cherie scratched the side of her nose thinking. "How long have you been here?"

Those pale brown eyes flickered with something dark, something that made the hairs rise on her arms before Lizzy gave her another sad smile. "When I was alive, there were still slaves. My parents wouldn't have allowed a friendship between us."

Cherie snorted. "Lovely." She clenched her jaw at the thought. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to them?"

"They died in a fire," said Lizzy, her voice cold and flat. There it was again, the flash of something sinister, gone in a blink. "What are we going to do about the monster?"

Cherie knew a subject change when she heard one but she let it go. It was clear her parents were a sore subject. "If I can find where it took the other girls I can corner it."

"Then what?"

"Know where I can get my hands on a flame thrower?"

"Yes, I'm sure one of the Sisters has one stashed under their habit," said Lizzy. "Aside from that flash of brilliance do you have any idea how to kill it?"

Cherie hesitated. "I know what hurts it, not sure if it's enough to kill it."

Lizzy sat up beside her, brown eyes wide with excitement. "Are you certain? You know its weakness?"

The memory made her stomach roll. Cherie sat up, lifting the chain up from around her neck until the small cross swung free over her collar. Lizzy's expression turned incredulous.

"A cross? It hunts in an orphanage run by nuns."

Cherie smiled without humor. "It's not the shape or the meaning behind it. It's what it's made of."

The monster satisfied itself with taunts now, but when it first appeared, when it first realized Cherie saw it hiding in its human skin, it attacked. She could still remember the sickening smell of seared flesh. The monster's shriek made her ears ring, a sound higher than any human could make, filled with so much hate it made her bones shake. It fell back, clutching its wrist, the shape of the cross still sizzling in the upper part of its palm. Cherie clutched the necklace, still cool against her skin despite what the damage inflicted on the monster. The cross, a precious and personal gift from the only friend she ever had in the orphanage. Jenny's cross, unique because it was pure iron.

The iron only wounded it, the burn vanishing within days. The monster seemed to maintain a healthy respect for the little cross she wore. It hadn't attacked her since. Still, if such a tiny piece of the metal hurt it so much, perhaps something larger would do more damage.

"Know where I can get some iron?"

Lizzy tapped her chin. "There are a couple of cast iron skillets in the kitchens."

"You want me to beat it to death with a frying pan?" It was almost comical if Cherie didn't think too hard of the face she'd be slamming.

The other girl winced at the idea. "Not ideal," she agreed. Her eyebrows lifted. "There is an antique fireplace set in Sister Joan's office. It might be iron."

Cherie frowned. Sister Joan did have a functioning fireplace in her office, located in the older part of the building, a story down from the bell tower. "You have full run of the orphanage?"

"It's easier for me to move in the older parts," Lizzy admitted, her eyes darting away.

Cherie mulled over the girl's evasion, and what she said when they met. "You saw the monster, creeping around the corners. Do you know where it takes the others?"

Lizzy glanced at her briefly, the guilt clear in her eyes. "Yes. I've always known."

The admission hurt more than Cherie thought it would. The familiar tightness returned to her throat as she thought about Jenny. Of all the other girls after. "You never tried to tell anyone? To warn them?"

Lizzy held up her pale hands in a placating gesture. "Even if someone believed the monster existed, most people don't see me, even if I want them too."

It was her turn to feel guilty. Here she was blaming the dead girl for not warning people there was a monster taking up residence in the orphanage. Cherie only knew by chance, cruel, cruel chance.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair." Cherie hugged her knees to her chest, trying to contain the well of grief threatening to overflow in her chest.

Lizzy lay an icy hand on her shoulder. "If you get a weapon, I'll show where the monster takes them."

Resolve chased away the tightness in her throat. "Let's go check out Sister Joan's fireplace."