The Phenomenals: A Game of Ghouls by F E Higgins Read Free Book Online Page B

in the Degringolade tradition) when the
curtain came down. He pocketed it, naturally, and turned his attention to the rest of the house. He was not concerned with the decay that surrounded him, more with the things that might have
survived the ravages of time and neglect, namely jewellery, gold, silver. Surely there was a chance they would still be here.
    Together the four went from room to room and it was the same story in each one: Degringolade Manor was a study in magnificent decay and they were almost spellbound at the vestigial beauty of the
huge rooms, each of them imagining what it must have been like when there was life within the walls, when fires burned brightly in the deep wide fireplaces and servants scurried along the
corridors. There was little for Vincent to salvage; everything was rotting away in the damp salty air.
    ‘Maybe we could stay in the manor,’ suggested Jonah to Citrine in the dining room. The table was still laid, as if at any moment someone was going to come in and sit down.
    ‘Maybe,’ murmured Citrine doubtfully, taking another Depiction. Every flash of the Klepteffigium was followed by the sounds of small creatures running away.
    Vincent left them to their musings and followed Folly back to the hall. Together they climbed the marble staircase, a wide central installation with broad handrails and elaborate spindles. Ivy
was carved decoratively into the wood, but if you looked closely enough you could see little impish creatures brazenly staring right back out at you. The carpet that ran up the middle of the stairs
– originally a deep green – was held in place by similarly carved stair rods. It disintegrated beneath their feet.
    Vincent examined the portraits that accompanied him as he ascended. By the looks of them, the Degringolade family were a dour lot, with deep-furrowed brows and a supercilious expression that had
been passed down through the centuries. He brushed his hand across one canvas to remove the dust but drew it back sharply when a splinter from the frame lodged in his palm. He pulled it out and a
droplet of blood swelled from the wound. He tied his handkerchief round his hand and stood back to look at the portrait. Two leonine golden eyes stared out at him from a pale face, and the hint of
a smile played on the woman’s narrow lips. But there was cruelty in the smile. Vincent knew this had to be Lady Degringolade herself, the outsider in the family. She was sitting on a
high-backed throne-like chair and looked for all the world like a regent. She was wearing a necklace and a browpin and her fingers were adorned with large rings. He thought of her dry bones in the
Kryptos and could imagine quite vividly how she might have stalked with haughty pride these once sumptuous halls.
    Folly had already reached the galleried landing and had walked away out of sight. He toyed with the idea of going after her, but he had his reasons not to, so decided to leave her to her own
devices.
    Having burgled plenty of large houses in his time, Vincent was familiar with the layout and reckoned that the main bedrooms and dressing rooms would be a good place to start. At the far end of
the gallery there was a grand set of panelled double doors. With a degree of caution – his thieving instincts already to the fore – Vincent opened one door, tearing a large cobweb as he
did so, and closed it softly behind him. He could tell immediately that the air in this room had not been disturbed for many years.
    He pointed his light inside and illuminated an eerie sight.
    He was in a bedroom furnished with a large four-poster bed, the dark curtains of which were drawn all around it. In the fireplace a fire was laid but unlit, the logs covered in thick smuts that
had fallen down the chimney over the years. Upon closer inspection the rampant decay was evident here too. Moths fluttered up from beneath his feet at every step and jagged holes in the skirting
revealed pairs of tiny glistening