Devil Smoke by C. J. Lyons Page A

Charlotte’s. There was no special inscription, no unique markings other than the broken leg.
    “Tommy.” Sarah sank down beside him and rested her palm on his shoulder. She sighed. “It can’t be hers.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because look at it. It’s pristine. Lying on top of the moss. If it had been out here a year, it would be all grimy and covered with leaves and dirt.”
    “Maybe you moved it? To compose your photo? Cleaned it up?”
    She frowned, looked into the camera for answers. “I can’t remember, but looking at all these, nothing appears to have been staged. In fact, there are a few that would have been better compositions if I had rearranged the elements. But I didn’t.”
    “Well, then maybe it wasn’t here a year.” He dared to meet her gaze. “Maybe she was here. Herself. Maybe she’s still alive.”
     
     
     
     

     

Chapter 15
     
     
    AFTER HER CONFRONTATION with Jesus-nailed-to-the-cross, Nellie couldn’t stomach staying where his eyes followed her everywhere she went. She ran past the altar, barely remembering to genuflect and cross herself, and into the forbidden, secret room behind it.
    It wasn’t so much a room as a closet. There was a large T-shaped wooden thing that seemed to be a coat stand for the pretty priest coats they only wore during Mass. The one hanging there now, waiting for Father Stravinsky, was cream with gold trim and tiny flowers sewn all over it. There was also a table with two gold chalices, a wash bowl, pretty embroidered towels—the kind Mommy said were only for show, not to actually wipe her hands on—and a glass jug of wine. Another crucifix hung above the table, but it was small, not scary at all.
    On the other side of the closet was a door leading out. Nellie opened it and peeked through. It opened onto a hallway that ran along the back of the church. There was a door going outside, and past it a set of steps leading down. The stairs looked like a good place to hide until her class finished Mass; then she could sneak back into the school.
    Checking again that no one was around to see her, she left the closet and raced to the staircase. It led down to a musty hallway, illuminated by only a few naked bulbs. It smelled of cleaning chemicals and old paper.
    The first door led to a room with a big furnace that looked scary, so she shut it and kept going. The next doors were storage rooms. One had boxes and boxes of paper—this was where the musty smell came from. Nellie wrinkled her nose; she’d be sneezing the entire time if she hid in there.
    She found a room filled with athletic equipment stacked in racks, and across the hall was a room filled with folded canvas tents—even more smelly than the room with the papers.
    The next door, though, opened onto a magical world. She stood in the doorway, stunned. The Christmas nativity scene—except for the straw and twinkle lights—was arranged before her, larger than life. Joseph stood behind his wife, protecting her and watching over their baby, just like Daddy did—only without the beard. The baby lay in the cradle, arms and legs kicking like he was laughing.
    But it was Mary who held Nellie’s attention. The Blessed Virgin Mother knelt, arms spread as if ready to hold her baby in her lap, smiling the same smile Mommy used to give Nellie. That smile was almost the only thing Nellie could remember every day; other things came and went before she could figure out a way to hang on to them, to keep them safe forever—or at least until Mommy came back.
    She stepped inside the room, its only light the gleam from the hall and the wispy smudge from a tiny basement window high in the wall. She stopped and held her breath, half-expecting someone—the angel or one of the wise men—to tell her to leave, that bad girls like her didn’t belong here, didn’t deserve a mommy and daddy to look after them. But no one moved. No one said anything.
    She closed the door behind her. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she