Why the hell was he in this room at the same time I emerged from the secret passageway? How’d he even get here so fast from downstairs?
Sweat broke out on my brow. “Is this where you kill me and bury me in the yard?” I asked through a suddenly hoarse throat.
“Good heavens, no. What would be the point in that?” He walked away from me (thank God) but stopped near the door.
I took a step back. He was graceful, but how fast could he move? Could I get into the passageway and out of the house before he could catch me?
The light flicked on, showering the room.
A new dread overcame me. One I doubted I’d ever be able to shake as long as I lived.Fourteen“What is this hell?” I asked through suddenly numb lips.
Eyes. Eyes everywhere. Painted eyes or marble eyes, some eyes uncannily tracking my movement. They stared at me from atop their human caricature bodies.
Mr. Tom spread his hands. “I present the doll room.”
I could actually feel the look of horror on my face.
Dolls sat on little chairs, their chubby plastic faces turned a tiny bit to imitate life. Others stood gathered in the corner, little girls with porcelain smiles, wrapped in their frilly dresses.
I gulped, trying to make sense of this horrific scene. “Bu-but why are there doll heads stacked on that shelf?”
“Ah yes. That is in case any of the doll heads need to be replaced. There are bins of arms and legs, as well.”
I didn’t look where he gestured. I didn’t want to add to this nightmare. “That one looks like it has two black eyes,” I said, pointing, “like it got beat up. Why not replace that head?”
“That’s the style of the doll. She has those lovely red-haired pigtails and quite the mean temper. She’s a tough one. The gingers always are.”
My gaze skittered over the little bodies covering every available surface and spewing onto the floor. “Okay, but that one has black lips, stitched Xs for eyes, and black hair with gray streaks. That isn’t right.”
“That’s the Halloween doll.”
“You have a man doll with big teeth and a huge crazy smile. What the hell, Mr. Tom? That is going too far.”
“Please, call me Tom. And I don’t see the big deal. They’re just dolls.”
“Until they come alive and toddle after you, sure.” Unease slithered along my skin.
Some people hated clowns. Some mimes.
Me? I hated dolls.
It wasn’t right that they were of a size and shape of babies, almost lifelike, but inanimate. It confused the mind. So did the ones with the little girl faces and adult dresses. It felt like they were staring at me accusingly. I couldn’t find the words to express how disturbing I found the Halloween doll that looked like a dead kid, or that horrible man face that didn’t belong anywhere.
My brain recoiled. Created nightmares upon nightmares. Imagined all of these nearly lifelike creatures coming after me, one halting step at a time. One jarring movement after another.
“No.” I shook my head, stepping backward. “Nope. All this has to go.”
Mr. Tom’s confusion was evident. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes you suspect.” I stabbed my finger at him. “Suspect. And you better not be peeking in my room!”
I pushed past Mr. Tom into the hall. No way was I exploring more dark places right now. Rats and spiders were one thing—I’d deal with those. Dolls, though? No. Count me out.
“I would never.” Mr. Tom was quickly on my heels. “If you could, you would see that certain rooms are blacked out. Those are the rooms with the master in them.”
“I’m not the master of this place, so I don’t see how that is relevant.” I turned and jammed my finger through the air once more. “Go close and lock that room. I’m going running.”
My crazy stare brooked no argument. He about-faced immediately.
“Close the secret passageway, too. I don’t want those things running through the walls of the house.”
“They don’t come alive unless the house does,” Mr. Tom yelled back. “And then they are a wonderful army. No one ever expects them.”
“I’ve landed in hell.” I charged into my room, slamming the door behind me, and rushed into my closet. Nothing called to me like it had on the first floor.
“Oh my God, can you even hear yourself, Jacinta?” I huddled in the corner of the closet and quickly changed into running clothes.
I wasn’t even huddling because I cared if he saw my nudity. This drooping, disheveled body hadn’t been the same since having a kid. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like mine, anymore. I couldn’t care less who hazarded a gawk at it.
No, I was huddling because I worried I’d get stuck halfway into my sports bra and he’d see the struggle.
“Young dudes being dragged across the lawn, hot middle-aged men talking about being the town alpha, the weirdest butler in the history of people, and now a room full of militarized dolls? What kind of Hades’s honkeytonk had I landed in? And here I am, in the middle of it all, looking around the closet for moving wooden carvings? This is bad. I’ve slid past a midlife crisis—I’m on a crash course toward insanity.”