Not a sound came from the room.
“Peter?”
Still no answer. No coughing. No footsteps or shifting clothes. Suddenly nervous, I walked over and peeked inside.
Still as stone, Peter stood before the window staring down at Xavier’s doll. For some reason the boy had moved the groom to the window seat where he now sat with legs splayed out in front, his tiny limp arms resting in the space between. Peter must have been playing with the doll. But why was he standing there, not moving a single muscle?
I crossed the room, coming to his side in concern. “What’s the matter?”
Peter didn’t look at me. Instead, he slowly lifted one hand, pointing. “The doll,” he said in a breathless voice—like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.
“What about him?” I asked, feeling slightly alarmed by the strangeness of Peter’s behavior. Was he having some sort of attack?
“He got up in the window.” Peter sounded like a proud parent.
“You—didn’t move him there?” I asked a little too slowly. Peter silently shook his head. I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t.
“He was climbing up there when I came in,” Peter said. “He just grabbed on and pulled himself up.”
“All by himself?”
Peter nodded again. The awe in his voice grew as he continued to speak. “He saw I was there and looked right at me.” Peter looked so pale and stunned I couldn’t help but believe he spoke the truth.
My voice was barely above a whisper when I spoke. “What did he do when he saw you?”
“He smiled. And then he blinked.” Peter shook his head in wonder. “I didn’t know dolls could blink, did you?”
“No, I didn’t know they could blink,” I said softly. Smile, yes. Blink, no. Lifetime habits die hard, I guess. Even after you’ve been dead for a while.
“He wrote something.” Peter pointed to the space just in front of the doll’s hands. “When he was finished, he sat down and stopped moving.”
I saw that there was now another drawing in the dusty window seat beside the others. Gooseflesh prickled along my scalp as I saw how the new drawing perfectly matched all the rest.
“It’s a raindrop,” I said.
“Not a raindrop, a teardrop,” Peter corrected me. “He saw us crying because I’m sick, remember?” Peter pointed to the other drawings. “Did the he draw those, too?” Peter looked up at me, his eyes searching my face.
His question caused a shiver to move down my spine. Of course, the doll had drawn the other pictures. The first one had appeared right after I found him in the secret room. Xavier, that idiot! How many times had he already possessed the groom doll without my knowing it? How many more times before he became trapped and no longer be able to leave its body? What message could possibly be so important that he’d be willing to risk his very freedom in order to write it in dust?
“He moved like one of those marionettes, only without strings,” Peter said. “Does he have batteries inside or something?” The boy’s dark eyes begged me to give him a reasonable explanation for how the doll had moved without anyone touching it. I had none to give.
“Peter, this doll is special,” I said gently. “I’m not sure how it is that he can move sometimes, he just can. But if people found out about him, they’d take him away and lock him inside a glass case forever. We can’t let that happen. That’s why you can’t tell anybody about him, not even Kat. Do you understand?”
“I won’t tell. Not anybody in the whole world,” Peter said eagerly. “Will you let me come see him sometimes? When I come to visit?”
I put out a hand and let it rest on the boy’s shaggy head. “As long as you keep it a secret, you can come.”
Peter nodded emphatically, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The sullen, angry kid I’d first met over the shattered pieces of broken vase downstairs was completely gone. In his place was a wide-eyed, excited little boy who smiled down at the groom doll like a kid who just discovered Santa Claus was real after all.
Finding there is still a little magic left in the world will do that to you.
“Here you are,” Kat said, coming into the kitchen just as Peter and I sat down to eat the sandwiches we’d made for lunch. “What have you two been up to? Usually if I don’t hear anything from Peter for longer than ten minutes it’s a good indication that he’s about to burn something to the ground.”
“He’s been as good as gold.” I gave Peter a conspirator’s wink. The boy beamed back at me, his cheeks bulging to capacity with peanut butter and jelly—something he swore up and down was good for people with CF.
“He didn’t lock you in a closet, or stuff the public toilets with an entire roll of toilet paper before giving them a flush?” Kat asked in disbelief.
I gave Peter a look of mock disbelief. “No—did you really do that?”
Peter let a smug smile curl at the corners of his mouth as he swallowed the rest of his food. “You better believe it,” he finally said.
He quickly turned his widening grin on his sister. “Can I come back and see Wren again sometime?” he asked. “Like next week?”
“Now I don’t believe it,” said Kat, slowly shaking her head at me. “All right, Wren. Where is my real brother and what have you done with him?”
Peter and I exchanged knowing smiles.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Wren,” a gentle voice startled me out of the lethargic trance I’d fallen into.
While Peter was around, I’d been able to force myself to function through the weariness. Now that he’d gone, there were only my aching bones and sore muscles to keep me company. I blinked once at the dollhouse in front of me, wondering how long I’d been standing there staring at its tiny rooms like a lifeless zombie.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Aunt Victoria standing in a doorway at the opposite end of the room. She smiled and beckoned silently for me to follow before disappearing from sight. Tomorrow was the first day the Wedding Party would be on public display. Aunt Victoria and her whole staff had worked around the clock to get everything ready for the rush of visitors that were expected in the morning.
Slightly curious, I forced my body to follow after her. The sound of soft voices led me to the Margaret Kensington Historical Doll Room. That’s where I found not only Aunt Victoria, but Matt and Gabrielle as well. The Wedding Party display, with its fancy new alarm, had been pulled out of storage and placed in the center of the room. The case was about six feet across in order to accommodate all the dolls at once. They were posed together like a group of people about to take a wedding photo. I glanced over the group and froze. Right up front, standing between the mother and father of the bride, was the newly restored bride doll.
She was back.
Her dress and veil were brilliant white, with only the slightest hint of where the worst stains hadn’t come completely clean. Her wig was rearranged into a bun with pretty ringlets that framed her face. The cracked and damaged wax layer had been replaced with a shiny new one that made the doll’s delicate skin look as smooth and translucent as the real thing. Her once murky eyes were now a brilliant blue, and looked flirtatiously up and to the left, trying to meet the gaze of her missing groom.
Aunt Victoria noticed me standing there. I must have had a funny look on my face because she cocked her head to one side, narrowing her eyes at me. “Wren, is something wrong?”
I shook my head, much too slowly to be convincing. Matt narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he looked my way. I was definitely acting suspicious.
“Doesn’t the bride look fantastic?” Gabrielle said, gesturing to the display in front of her. “Come and see.”
Slowly, I forced myself to take that first step. To bring myself closer. It wasn’t like the bride doll would come crashing through the glass right there in front of three other witnesses. I stopped a couple of feet from the case. See? No big deal.
Thump.
The sound was soft, but solid enough to make all fo
ur of us jump—me worst of all. The mother-of-the-bride doll had fallen over backward and was now leaning against the back of the case, looking up at the glass over her head like a woman caught mid-faint.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Gabrielle snapped under her breath as she moved toward the back of the display. “That’s the third time that particular doll has fallen over in the last fifteen minutes.”
Gabrielle pulled out her keys and unlocked a sliding panel to gain access to the dolls. She fussed with the mother-of-the-bride doll a moment, standing Mrs. Worthin on her feet again. Gabrielle then placed one of the doll’s tiny hands on the bride’s shoulder. The miniature fingers were thin and tapered. They looked rigid, almost claw-like, as if Mrs. Worthin was squeezing her daughter’s shoulder too tight. Something about that hand disturbed me. It looked like it might hurt.
“There,” Gabrielle said, closing the display once again and locking it up. Gabrielle had only just made it back around to the front of the case, when the doll tipped over once again. Gabrielle let out a hiss of frustration.
“Maybe a board is loose there,” Aunt Victoria suggested, pointing at the floor. “The display case must teeter a little when you walk by it too closely.”
Even though it was Mrs. Worthin’s doll that kept falling over, I couldn’t help but be suspicious of the bride herself. She looked innocent enough, with her rosy cheeks and large, beautiful eyes. A trick of the light made their surface glisten, like they were just on the verge of filling up with tears. The hint of a smile on her lips gave her the air of a young woman attempting to put on a brave face even as she crumbled apart inside.
Gabrielle reached into the back of the display and began to right the mother-of-the-bride once more. As she put Mrs. Worthin’s claw-like hand back on the bride’s shoulder, I felt myself shudder.
“Maybe the bride would like her father to be the one standing behind her,” I said without thinking. “He looks sturdier and better balanced.”
“What a fabulous idea.” Gabrielle quickly changed the position of the two dolls. Gabrielle placed Mr. Worthin’s gnarled, old hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder. It looked relaxed and gentle. He had a bemused look on his homely features, giving him a sweet, grandfatherly feel.
“There, that’s better,” I whispered softly through the glass.
Gabrielle gripped the sides of the display and gave it a small shake causing the dolls quiver in their places. None of them fell down.
“Perfect,” Gabrielle said. “Go ahead and set the alarm for the night, Matt.” As Matt hurried to do so, Gabrielle and Aunt Victoria moved off to discuss the framed photographs of the wedding party members that now hung about the walls of the room. Once Matt had the alarm up and running, the bride doll would be locked safely in for the night—I hoped.
I continued to stare into her tiny face with concern. Had the restorer used some sort of clear resin to reset the eyes? Some of it seemed to have pooled up between her eye and eyelid. As I watched, a small drop of clear liquid welled over the edge of the doll’s lower lid and trickled silently down her smooth cheek.
My gut twisted, clenching itself against the horrifying sight of the doll’s silent sorrow, even as she continued to smile out at the world. Unable to actually touch the doll, I pressed my palm flat against the glass in front of her and traced the tear’s silent journey down the doll’s cheek. It glistened and grew for a moment on her chin, before dripping onto the satiny cloth of her wedding dress.
Having finished alarming the display, Matt moved quietly up beside me. “Kat told me about the miraculous way you tamed Peter today. I’ve watch that kid a few times myself.” Matt slowly shook his head. “I wish I’d thought to show him Margaret’s dolls stored in the basement. Very clever of you.”
“Have you ever noticed how those dolls all look like?” I said without taking my eyes from the bride. “They have dark hair and green eyes—just like Xavier.
“Now that you mention it, I guess they do,” Matt said. “It only makes Margaret’s mad obsession with creating them more tragic. You can’t help but wonder what she did with the real groom doll. If she didn’t destroy the bride, surely the groom must be hidden somewhere safe in the house as well.”
A lightning quick moment flickered about the bride doll’s eyes.
Did she just blink?
Margaret went mad while pounding holes in the walls attempting to destroy this doll. I watched her uneasily, suddenly aware that she could probably hear every word we said through the glass. A dank, dark feeling slunk up into the hollow place beneath my ribcage.
Was the bride doll dangerous to Xavier?
“The groom doll could be inside one of the walls around here too,” Matt continued. “We might be walking by its hiding place every day, never even knowing it was only a few feet away. Without tearing down every wall in the house, there isn’t any way to be sure.”
“Maybe Margaret destroyed it,” I said a little too quickly. “That would explain all the copies down in the basement. She might have felt guilty later and tried to replace it.”
Matt nodded slowly as if in agreement. I felt horrible misleading him, but it wasn’t Matt the lie was meant for. I glanced over at Rosalyn’s doll and all but choked as my throat closed in on itself.
Sometime during our conversation, the little smile had vanished from the bride’s lips. Instead of looking up to the left, the doll now looked straight forward—her icy, blue gaze locked on me. As I watched, a second tear slid silently down the doll’s face. Spider webs of crystallized horror iced their way through my blood. I suddenly felt I might be sick.
“Wren?” Matt’s voice asked. I glanced over and found him watching me carefully in concern. “Are you feeling all right?”
I could sense the weight of the bride’s gaze boring down on me from the other side of the glass. “I’m fine, really,” I said, nodding for emphasis. My head just kept bobbing away and I finally had to command myself mentally to stop.
“If you’re sure,” Matt sounded totally unconvinced. Who could blame him? Time for a subject change.
“Have you ever thought of getting a haircut?” I blurted out.
Like I said before, Queen of Subtlety—long may I reign.
“Have I ever what?” Matt asked in bewilderment.
Don’t look at the doll, I commanded myself. Don’t even think about her or she’ll know something is up.
I lowered my voice, only too aware of who was listening. “Gabrielle and I were talking the other day. She thought you’d look good with shorter hair,” I said.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly how Gabrielle said it, but it was the spirit of what she meant, wasn’t it? Come on, I was desperate here.
Matt took the bait—hook, line, and sinker. “Gabrielle said that?” He glanced in the pretty curator’s direction in astonishment. Gabrielle hadn’t exactly been free with compliments when it came to him. He was like a puppy desperate for a kind word from its master.
I was such a complete and utter jerk! One whose every move was being carefully observed by a possessed bride doll not three feet away.
“I think you’d look good with short hair—like a rock star.” I shrugged as if to say it was fine with me either way.
“I know my hair is getting a little long,” Matt admitted sheepishly. “I’ve had to work a lot of extra hours lately, so I haven’t had a chance to make a hair appointment.”
Unable to resist any longer, I looked at the doll and breathed a little easier when I saw her eyes were back in their original upward position. Had I really managed to fool her? Somehow, I doubted it.
“Some places cut your hair without appointments,” I said for Matt’s benefit. “You just have to find a place that does walk-ins.”
“Seriously? I didn’t know you could do that,” Matt said, running his fingers thoughtfully through his hair. “I’ll have to check it out after work sometime,”
I paused a moment, considering the black box with a flashing red light attached to the side
of the exhibit. “All these fancy alarms and such have got me wondering—has anyone ever tried to steal a doll from here?” Or had any of them walked off by themselves, perchance?
“Mr. Evans originally hired me several years ago because someone broke in to the museum and helped themselves to his best dolls after hours,” Matt said.
I cut him a look. “Were any of Margaret’s dolls stolen?”
“Yes, actually,” Matt said. “The whole Wedding Party was taken.”
I glanced over at the display case full of dolls before me. “But if they were all stolen, then how…”
“The thief got caught trying to sell them on the black market. Those dolls are famous in the collecting community. The potential buyer recognized them and turned in the perpetrator to the police. The Wedding Party was returned to the museum and Mr. Evans removed them from public display, putting them into a vault for safe keeping.”
“And now, Aunt Victoria is going to put those dolls out on display again,” I said. “Do you think that’s a good idea? What if someone else tries to steal them?”
Matt nodded slowly at me. “Mr. Evans warned your aunt it was a possibility. That’s why she put the new alarms on the displays.”
I looked over at the still inanimate bride and found myself hoping fancy security alarms and a single pane of glass would be enough to keep her in.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A sound screamed through the house somewhere downstairs. The endless shrieking went on and on, tearing at my nerves with clawing, wicked-sharp fingernails. I sat drunkenly upright in bed, my bleary eyes automatically moving to the groom doll sitting on the bedside table. I could barely see his small form in the darkness.
Fire alarm!
A crack of light appeared at the bottom of my bedroom door as someone snapped on the switch in the outside hall.
“Wren?” Aunt Victoria’s sharp voice called. “Where are you?”
“I’m here,” I cried, dragging myself clumsily out of bed. I staggered, suddenly dizzy. Clutching at the bedclothes with a shaking hand, I paused a moment, waiting for the world to stop whirling. The high-pitched wail of the distant alarm continued to pierce the night.
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