Vixen uttered a murmured prayer as she stepped forward, following the creature back toward the Eastern stairs. The ghost watched her pass, tossing the carving knife from hand to hand. “What are you doing, imp?” she asked.
Vixen nodded to herself, grateful that she at least knew what the creature leading her was. She racked her brains, trying to remember all the folklore about such creatures, but all she could think of was winged cartoon gargoyles and the creature in front of her had no wings.
The imp looked back at the ghost. “Just get back to your work, Molly. Let me deal with this.”
The second ghost glided up. “You can’t take her to Harold, mate. She’s up to no good.”
“Don’t worry, Fred.” The imp grinned. “You can trust me.”
The two ghosts watched the imp and the assassin turn the corner and head downstairs.
“I don’t trust him at all,” said Molly. “Do you?”
“About as much as I’d trust a priest,” said Frederick. “I’ll go and find Gillian.”
“Ha!” Molly grinned. “That’d be a fight an’ all. My penny on the vampire”
Frederick frowned. “You don’t have a penny.”
“I’ll think of something to pay with.”
© Rachel Green 2007