Skye rushed out of the house.
Blinded by tears, she stumbled into the garage, jumped on the motorcycle of her father started it. The engine roared loudly and the machine shot on the road bucking.
After a moment, Skye got the bike under control and drove down the street, paying no attention to the way she took.
Only when a low-hanging branch slapped her in the face on a bumpy road, she came to her senses, realized where she was after a moment.
Just around the next corner was the cemetery.
She turned the key, put the kickstand out with some effort and dismounted with shaky legs.
The sunlight bathed the clean, pretty place with cruel beauty in golden shimmer. Hesitantly Skye crept between the grave stones until she arrived at the familiar, light gray stone, on which the names of her own ancestors were engraved.
"Joanne Slade" was at the bottom.
The name of her grandmother chocked Skye. Would soon the name of her sister be here?
The young woman sank down on the grass and began to sob again.
The pain was so intense that it seemed almost unreal. Skye cried until her eyes were red and her throat rough and she had no energy left.
The grass fell towards her and caught her gently.
For a while she lay still, of no clear thought capable. Then something soft touched her hand.
She sat up and saw a small cat.
The animal got purring on her lap and licked with warm, rough tongue her tears away. An unusually confiding animal.
It took a moment, Skye until came to her senses. Then she pushed down the cat of herself and stood up.
The animal did not bother about the ungentle handling but kept rubbing its flank at Skye's legs, purring loudly, until the young woman bent down and stroked it gently.
"What do you want?" She asked softly. "I can not give you any love. I'm sad, you know?"
The cat ran a few steps away, stopped, looked back at her and meowed softly.
Skye sat up. As the animal meowed again, she followed it hesitantly. Again and again it stopped, looked over its shoulder and waited until Skye had approached. Then it finally disappeared through the doorway of a small chapel.
"Hey, wait! You can not go in there!"
But it could and the young woman followed her.
Inside it was dark.
Skye pulled out her cell phone and turned the screen brightness on full, so she could see a thing.
The cat sat high on something that she could not accurately identify and stared at her with glowing green eyes. The young woman crept cautiously closer, careful not to trip and squinted to see anything.
The animal sat on a coffin.
The lid was ajar, pushed to the side. When Skye came closer, the cat reached into the gap with its paw. Skye pushed it to the side, shone in, and then brought a roll of paper to light.
She hurried back to the entrance and read in the in-falling light what was written there.
With each line with hre eyes went wider.
Testament, stood there. Carter Slade. Ghost Rider. Mephistofeles. Contract.
"... Nonsense." She finally snorted and threw the roll back into the darkness.
For a moment she stood still, thinking.
"Nonsense!" She repeated louder and then strode angrily back to her motorcycle.
Cursing to herself she mounted it and drove back home.
Her mood had reached the darkest point. And her sister still hung in mortal danger.
The rest of the day she spent praying.
She called a priest, with whom she went through everything that could be helpful.
She prayed rosaries, confessed, lit candles, droned the psalms, and ... and ... and ...
But when evening fell, Salome's health status had degraded again drastically.
Doctor Carter checked her pulse from time to time with a solemn expression.
The pastor prayed with enervating voice and made the sign of the cross over Salome.
To see that made Skye suddenly furious. She prayed here for her sister, put all her hope in God's hands, but what happened? Absolutely nothing!
When DID God help one if you prayed at all? Never! God! If He existed, what Skye doubted gradually, then he didn´t give a tinker´s damn about what happened to Salome!
Carter took the child's wrist again and shook his head gloomily.
Tears shot in Skyes eyes. She jumped up, tore the cross that hung over the bed from the wall and hurled it angrily out the window.
"Bastard," she yelled after Jesus figure. "Fuck off!"
Then she spun around again to the intoning priest who just picked a frond to sprinkle Salome with holy water.
She yanked the fronds away, threw it behind her and hit the bucket with the holy water out of his hand, so that his cassock became completely soaked at the front.
"AAH!" She shouted angrily. "Out! Get lost! And take your sanctimonious God with you!" And she said to her mother: "She is NOT dead YET!"
And she stormed out of the house.
Outside, she threw the head back and screamed with might and main:
"IF GOD WON´T HELP ME THEN HOW ABOUT THE DEVIL! ONE OF YOU GUYS HEAR ME?! I! WANT! HELP!"
She trailed off.
Listened, breathed heavily, but all she heard was her own panting.
Again the despair overcame her. On no one you could rely nowadays. Probably the devil had retired long ago.
Skye narrowed her eyes tightly to keep from crying.
She turned- and screamed in fright in a low voice.
Before her stood a unknown man, and smiled at her.