Chapter 40 Believers’ Family

"Clara also wants to go home. It is a beautiful white house with yellow flowers on the windowsill. Clara can draw on the walls, but her mother never praises Clara. Clara is obviously better at drawing than her brother.

better."

Clara was chattering in the birdcage, but Clayton ignored her.

Because he was holding the birdcage in his mouth, rolled up his sleeves, and used the strength of both hands to grab the bumps on the wall and climb up.

If the location he chose was not quite remote, this behavior would have been stopped.

It's daytime now, and the werewolf's ability to transform is limited, but it can still be done to make nails sharper and stronger, making it easier to climb walls than with simple human fingers.

After some effort, Clayton stood on the roof.

He was almost ten feet above the ground and could have an unobstructed view of all the scenery in the Dove Square.

However, at this altitude, the sun's rays are also more intense.

Clayton will not give up easily. Although the Salvation Army people are already here, he cannot trust these guys with weak will and weird temperament.

He followed the route identified by Clara on the connected rooftops, and soon found a shabby-looking house in the corner of the dead end behind the square. Judging from the windows, it was about three stories tall, and its appearance matched Clara's description of her home.

.

As for the title "Spider Priest". He was not sure about this idea, because the IQ of the insect hybrid should not be enough to deserve such a title.

There is a row of flower pots on the edge of the protruding balcony on the second floor, about seven of them.

There is a huge garbage dump next to the house, but fortunately the weather is getting colder and the smell here is not too bad.

"Is there a child in every room?"

The indoors are no better than the outdoors. Although there are many places where there is mold, the shape has not changed.

Something is roaring furiously in my head.

Clara said proudly in the cage.

He exerted force on his palm unconsciously, wolf hairs pierced out from the back of his hand, and there was a burning sensation in the sterling silver birdcage in his left hand.

Clayton seemed to see a closed prison. Under the oppression, the seeds of innocence were thriving.

"This is Andrew's room. He is the fastest runner but is bad at drawing. This is Goshek's room. He likes to dance. And this is Luna's room. Clayton, don't walk so fast.

Clara didn’t have time to introduce!”

Clayton knelt down on one knee and picked up a small piece of broken nail from the bottom of the bed. The blood on it had turned into withered black.

"Clara's mother is Sasha's most--beautiful woman."

The warm feeling was conveyed to Clara's heart just by looking at her.

"Clara didn't know that they disappeared after the dedication."

The dust here is no less than that of Mani's old house.

Clayton walked into one of the rooms at random and found that it was very small, with a bed taking up one-third of the space. There were some simple handmade toys on the floor, and small-sized clothes on the bed.

Clayton returned to his normal state, glanced at the burn marks on his left hand that were fading at a speed visible to the naked eye, and suddenly came up with the idea of ​​releasing Clara from the sterling silver birdcage. This idea would never have come up before.

.

"What is Clayton thinking?"

It was still daytime, but he felt the werewolf's blood rushing faster in his veins. The intensity could only be compared to the full moon night when he awakened.

"Then you can stay on the roof and I'll go in by myself."

Clara opened her mouth wide and her eyes seemed dead.

White is white enough, at least as white as bird poop.

She exclaimed excitedly as Clayton advanced down the corridor.

Since no one would see it from a high place, Clayton simply removed the gauze on the birdcage so that Clara could see it more clearly.

He stopped at the door and thought for a few seconds before turning the handle and pushing the door open.

"Then Clara should accompany Clayton."

But now was not the time, he knew it very well.

There are many bedrooms here, but each door has a window and a number.

Clayton suddenly thought of a question.

Who would let Clara preach to them?

"What does Clara's mother look like?" He looked at the bedroom behind the balcony. There were very few personal belongings that could identify the owner.

Clayton reflexively threw the birdcage onto the bed, then took out the special medicine wrapped in paper from his pocket and took one pill.

There were scratches not only on the ground, but also on the wall on the right side by the door.

Clara said that she has a mother, but she is a spider, and the spider's mother should also be a spider.

She didn't seem to notice that she could no longer put on her skirt, nor did she think that Clayton had no obligation to take her back to his home.

But they don't have any of these, it's like they can only live in their own bedroom.

Clayton comforted her: "It has been many years. If no one takes care of it, the house will become like this."

Clayton couldn't understand her thoughts. He carried the birdcage and ran across the slopes of the roof, arrived above Clara's house, jumped easily, landed on the balcony, and then pushed the door open to enter.

When Clayton asked this question, Clara's expression looked like she was looking at a monster: "Does Clayton think spiders are beautiful?"

He entered another room and saw bloody scratches on the wooden floor. The scratches were spaced very small, and there were five in number.

Clayton paused, feeling that the person in the world who could least use common sense to accuse him was Clara.

"Clara's room is 211."

"Is she a spider too?"

"I want to see Clara's room."

Even if there are rules for tidying up, there should be some omissions here, such as a doll or a ribbon left under the table and chair.

Clayton knelt down and studied the marks around the ground.

Walking a few steps further inside, Clayton saw a small white dress lying on the ground, matching the body shape of a seven or eight-year-old child. It seemed to have fallen off the bed, and it was already covered with dust, and the underneath was faintly exposed.

Silhouette of a pair of scattered leather shoes.

Just like other rooms, the layout inside is not surprising. The quilt on the bed is well folded, but there are some graffiti on the walls, showing that the children here have an unusual spirit.

As expected, Clara was angry again. Anyone who was thrown around in a cage would be angry.

Everything is in perfect order.

The reason why I say it is approximate is because they were broken into half, leaving only some fragments, the base and soil between the railings, and the base of some flower pots was even covered with soil.

Clara cheered in the birdcage: "It's still there! Clayton, Clara's dress is still there! Can you take it back?"

Clayton returned to the corridor, went down the stairs, and counted all the way to Clara's room.

As the pill is swallowed down the throat, the boiling blood subsides slightly.

This is her home, and Clayton is her invited guest. Just thinking of this makes Clara feel excited.

She is an adult too!

Some of its designs do not look like they are for families, and some modifications have been made to resemble a prison.

Clayton didn't answer. He covered his forehead with one hand and felt a severe headache again.

Only those rooms bear traces of their humanity.

Opening the closet, there are clothes for men and women in different sizes.

"Where have they all gone?"

"Is that Clara's house?"

Clara did not notice this change: "Well, it hurts to give, but it is mother's request. If we don't give, we will not be able to enter the kingdom of heaven. In that case, we will not be able to be together after death."

Clayton couldn't figure out what the fool was thinking, so he decided not to talk about this topic with Clara, but focused on exploring the house.

This immediately attracted his attention.

His tawny eyes trembled in their sockets, and the whites of his eyes were covered with blood.

During this process, he did not speak to Clara, but Clara quickly changed her mind and made peace with him again.

The same goes for the next door, where there are also fairy tale books, some crayons and pictures.

Clara's house is very strange.

"Yes."

He closed the door inside and tried, but found that he couldn't lock it from the inside.

"If you just look at your face, I think you're actually pretty good."
To be continued...