Crik by Karl Beer Read Free Book Online Page A

shine through the diaphanous garment from some unseen source, but from within. When more of the coloured cloth floated into the landing, he pressed his cheek against the uppermost wooden vine, knowing that he only had a remote chance of remaining hidden.
    A form, brighter than the glowing garment, strode into the doorframe. Recognising Grandma Poulis did not lessen the shock. Her face, smoothed of the ravages of age and worry, became beautiful; heightened cheekbones framed almond shaped eyes, not the dark circles he knew. A full mouth, turned at the corner in a perpetual smile, promised love, laughter and sorrow in equal measure. Hair, free of its accustomed tight bun, spun down her shoulders in a shower of gold. She glided into the landing, her feet hidden beneath folds of shifting light.
    A Ghost Walker. Hard to accept that any still lived after the Cleansing, but he had heard enough stories to recognise one when he saw it. Many women possessed by a woodland spirit had died at the Hanging Tree. That one should still live in the village right under his nose filled him with horror. Seeing how beautiful Grandma Poulis had become discredited the tales of Ghost Walkers consorting with Boguls and Wretches. Then memories of the Giant going straight to her rosebush surfaced. Had the Giant come to visit the Ghost Walker? Why else had it come into the village? Stories told how when the spirit wandered, the body died, and would only awaken once the spirit returned. 
    Despite his misgivings, the young girl enchanted him. Love for Grandma Poulis spread through him, making him lightheaded. Relaxing his grip on the wood, he felt himself sway forward. No, he couldn’t let her see him. If she found him, the Hatchling would escape, or more horrible, attack Grandma Poulis. Yang slipped onto the verge of the landing, his form bold in the dazzling light, leaving Jack to pray his wayward shade would not betray their presence.
    The Ghost Walker had not noticed them; in fact, her eyes never left the door at the far end of the hallway. Driven by some invisible force, she effortlessly glided across the wooden floor. Without pause, she passed both Jack and Yang.
    As the blue light enveloped him, Jack felt his love deepen for her. He wanted to stand up and go to the Ghost Walker. Tears dropped from his eyes as his hand lifted toward her. Never had he experienced a love so pure, it filled his body with warmth.
    Mesmerized by her, he failed to notice Bill’s door standing open with the Hatchling peering out, its eyes ablaze in the Ghost Walker’s glow. The creature had its tail wrapped about its potbelly, ignoring the Ghost Walker as she reached the door at the far end of the landing.
    The door opened without Grandma Poulis reaching for the handle. Aided by her radiance the room sprang into immediate life, revealing an old stool set before a half finished painting. Taking her seat, she began to paint figures on the branches of a golden tree. White light shone upward from the figures to create the drifting clouds.
    Perturbed by the painting, Jack turned and spotted the Hatchling watching him from Bill’s room. He flinched. It was larger, the ears more pointed than he remembered, and the rows of teeth keener to his critical eye. Now the sword no longer felt adequate. The blade had a good weight, but he had no skill with the weapon, if he got into a fight with the creature, those talons, stroking its tail, would rip him to shreds.
    The Hatchling, sensing Jack’s reluctance to follow, stuck its forked tongue out, taunting him, before disappearing into Bill’s room.
    Hot anger drove away the warmth imparted by the Ghost Walker. He should have destroyed the egg, he had another chance to kill the creature when Yang communicated with it, and this was how it repaid his mercy? Grinding his teeth, he rose from his haunches, when the task of crossing the landing unseen brought him to an immediate halt.
    Grandma Poulis put green bristle to paper. Could he risk