The crypt led to the house, he knew that. He'd seen it, watched her emerge while he lurked in the darkness behind crumbling tombstones. He had made a point to watch that door these last few weeks but nothing had stirred. No light flared, no shadow passed before the tiny window. He was certain this door would not be locked.
A single touch to the door proved him right, hinges creaking as it swung open. He had chosen the perfect time of day to satiate curiosity. It was early evening, too early for genecops to be prowling, likewise too early for the average prowler.
Graverobber slipped into the marble tomb as quiet as a mouse, carefully shutting the door behind him. He turned, an eyebrow arching upwards as he considered the tomb before him. A slab of marble lay on the floor, collecting dust in the cracks and breaks it had gained from being pushed to the floor. A splash of puffy black chiffon peeked out of the open coffin, far too new to belong to any corpse interred here.
"Well, well," Graverobber drawled, leaning over the coffin to look down at its inhabitants, one living, one very dead. "Goldilocks found her bed."
"Go away." The girl's voice was dull. She didn't look up from where she lay, curled up with the long-dead corpse as if it were a favourite teddy bear. When he made no move to leave or even lean back she cast a glare at him.
Graverobber just flashed her his most charming grin.
Shilo sat up, skirt rustling, looking very annoyed. Adorably annoyed in fact.
"The dead arises," Graverobber quipped, amused by her glare and not the least bit sorry. He leant closer, smiling wickedly. "Sleeping in coffins, little girl. Beds not good enough for you anymore?"
"Go away," Shilo repeated, the glare becoming dangerously close to a pout. "What are you doing here?" She asked, seeming to rethink her stratagem. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"
"I came to steal," Graverobber replied plainly, the words falling from his lips without so much as a second thought, "but it seems the rumours are untrue. The 'Wallace Girl' is far from dead. But not from death."
"Ha ha." Shilo lay back in the coffin flat on her back, hands clasped over her stomach. "Knock yourself out. You can take whatever you want, I don't care."
Graverobber paused to consider the implications he was nearly certain she hadn't intended. He bowed to her, a mocking gesture that was more pageantry than a genuine salute. He sauntered off along the dark passageway without hesitation, not about to wait for her to change her mind.
The house was as gloomy as it looked from the outside, with the same presence you'd expect from a museum. Graverobber whistled a few notes, listening to the slight echo in the stillness. Sound reverberated here like it did in all large, unnaturally empty places. Nothing about the place indicated that it was anyone's home, at first glance it had all the personality of a hotel.
Bare frames hung on the walls, lightshades and lamps slowly accumulating a layer of dust in their disuse. Graverobber bypassed the ground floor and went straight upstairs, knowing that anything interesting would be found up there. Odd baubles found their way into his pockets, clinking softly against whatever was already in them. He bounced on the balls of his feet and jingled.
Graverobber wandered. He looked at bugs, relics of childhood, medical equipment, and stuffed animals. He poked through drawers, silently pocketing a pair of white cotton panties. The temptation to leave an IOU in the girl's underwear drawer flared, dying just as quickly. Graverobber moved on down the hallway. He found a bathroom and was, for a moment, filled with jealousy at the sight of the large claw-footed bathtub.
He broke the lock on the next door. When he left that room, it was with a noticeable air of smugness and a brief flash of silver at his fingertips before that too disappeared into a pocket.