by Anya Allyn
Aisha was left standing before us, a dark curtain of hair covering most of her face. She turned to head back to the others.
“I’m sorry,” Molly offered quickly, “about what happened to Emerson.”
Pain entered her Aisha’s eyes. “No, you’re not. I know you think badly of him, and me... and everyone here.”
“We’re all just trying to survive.” Molly’s tone was careful and measured, as though she were holding back.
Aisha sucked her lips in. “Emerson’s only ever done what he had to do. And I did what I had to do. When you find yourself sinking, you have to choose your best options.”
“Sometimes what looks like a lifeboat is actually a shark,” said Molly softly.
Aisha frowned, tilting her pointed chin up. “Sometimes you have impossible choices. Being on their side was the only way I could make sure my family stayed safe.”
A silent sigh escaped my throat. “What about your family in the ice world, Aisha? How safe are they? Do you even know if they’re alive?” My voice was more cutting than I’d intended it to be.
She shrank into herself. “I can’t be responsible for all of the copies.”
I tensed. “They’re not copies. They’re real, breathing human beings. The parents I grew up knowing are some of those copies you speak of. And so am I.”
She gazed at me as though seeing me for the first time. “It’s hard to even comprehend that the Cassie Claiborne I knew is gone. Things and people just slip past our fingers. That’s the new reality.” She half-turned. “I know they won’t want me talking to you two.”
“Why? What are they afraid of? Are they scared that you knew us... before you knew them?” I asked her.
“I’m very lucky they accepted me into their family.” A hardness visited her aqua eyes. “And aren’t you the lucky one... that Emerson lost the game and not Zach.”
“What?” I breathed. ”How on earth does that make me lucky?”
Her mouth twisted. “Zach cares about you more than Emerson ever cared about me. I hear the way he talks about you. Sometimes it feels like Emerson and his family only wanted me in the family so they could find out more about what you two were planning.”
“Aish, they’re using all of us,” I told her. ”Make no mistake about that.”
Her expression crumbled, her pose rigid. “I’m not strong enough to stand up to them.” Her voice was a rush of whispers, coming from deep inside her.
Molly glanced at me. “That’s not true. You were strong in the dollhouse. You stayed with us to the end.”
Her hair fell over her shoulders as she shook her head. “No...” Her gaze fixed to the ground. “I woke in the dollhouse, one night just before the end, and Henry was there—just looking at us. I asked him what he was doing there and he told me he often came down there just to look—because we were all so beautiful and he hated seeing beauty destroyed. I had a weak moment and ran after him as he left. I told him I’d changed my mind. I reminded him that he’d asked me at the Feast of Fools to go with him. That time I’d said no, but now I wanted escape.” She breathed in deeply. “He told me it was too late. Too late.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “When he asked me, I almost went with him too. We were starving and desperate. I don’t blame you.”
She clasped her hands together so tight that her knuckles went pale. “I blame me,” she whispered. “I manipulate people to get my own way. I deserve everything that’s happening to me.”
“We don’t deserve any of this,” said Molly.
Aisha’s eyes were wet, the edges rimmed red. “I hate myself.”
“Don’t,” Molly told her. “You made a couple of mistakes. You can’t hate yourself for that.”
Breathing out a long sigh, Aisha shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve always been like this. When I was a kid, I learned how to sneak around my parents. My brother was always getting into trouble because everything he did was out there in the open. But I was smarter. I’d sneak around and do the wrong thing and hide it. Even when Raif and I had fights, all I’d have to say was that Raif was the one who started it, and my parents would believe me. I’d pretend to be hurt, even though Raif had barely touched me. And Raif would just shrug it off. Because he was a better brother than I was a sister.”
She pushed her thick, dark hair behind her ears. She’d grown thin again—her cheekbones gaunt. “I did stuff like that all the time. Even... with Ethan.” She eyed me with regret on her face. “All the girls at school wanted Ethan. And I was determined to get him—just because they wanted him. I tried everything I could, but he didn’t show any interest. He was always off on his own on weekends, in that damned forest. When you came to the school, I could see it on his face that he wanted you. It burned me inside. At Lacey’s fifteenth party, I made my move. I came up to him crying that I had a really big problem and needed his help. I took him out to the yard, and up to the tree house. I told him that I’d been depressed and suicidal. It was a lie. I told him I needed someone to have a few drinks with me, make me feel better. So we sat there drinking a bottle of bourbon together. He said he was going to leave and get me some help. I stripped naked and told him I was in love with him. Then I told him I was going to do something stupid if he didn’t stay with me. Kill myself even.” She looked away. “He stayed. And we did it. And afterwards, he felt like he had to be with me, become my boyfriend. I knew he would—he’s old-fashioned like that.”
I took a long, painful breath. “You didn’t have to tell me all of that.”
A tear trailed down her cheek. “The Cassie who I knew isn't even here anymore, and so I can't apologize to her. She died without me being able to say any of that. And so I'm saying it to you. Because I know you went through exactly the same things. Sometimes it feels like we don’t have long before it all ends. Like we never really got out of the dollhouse. Like we’re still trapped and we’re going to die. I just needed to dump some of that stuff that’s eating me up inside. Let it out.”
I eyed her directly. “Ethan had choices. He chose to sleep with you. You didn’t hold him down and force him. We’re human, Aisha.”
She wiped her face. “Ethan tried to be the best boyfriend he could. But what I’d done was tearing me up inside. And I could see how he felt about you. I could see it. Every single day. You had his love. I never did. And you have Zach’s love. You don’t know how fortunate you are. You know, I’ve even heard Zach telling Emerson he wishes he came down there to the dollhouse and took you away from that horror. Emerson would never say anything like that. Emerson just pretends that the dollhouse never happened. And now... and now Emerson is just like a zombie. Like I said, I got what I deserved.”
“Zach doesn’t really understand how terrible it was. And that matters to me. It matters a lot.”
“Why?” said Aisha. ”Because you want him to share your pain? What would that achieve? You have the true love of a boy whose family is set to rule everything. Not just this world, but every world.”
I thought back to the chilling words Henry had spoken when he was with the others in the room with the astronomical clock. These people wanted to rule everything.
She stared at me, expecting an answer.
“I don’t have his true love,” I said finally. “And he doesn’t have mine. I could never love him ever again. I doubt that I ever really did."
A figure stood frozen in the garden walkway, his face half-shadowed. Zach.
“I just came to see if you and Molly were okay, if you needed anything.” Zach’s words were rigid.
“Zach….” I wanted to say more. But I’d spoken the truth, and once you’ve spoken that, nothing you can say afterwards can lessen the blow.
He walked off towards the castle, his steps stiff and angered.
14. EMERSON
I woke to the sound of an anguished scream—the scream of a young man. I tensed. It could be Zach. Despite everything, I didn’t wish for anything to happen to him that could produce those kin
d of cries.
Molly remained fast asleep. Barefoot, I stepped out onto the cold stone floor and left the room. The screams echoed and bounced through the stairwell as I wound my way up. Two floors above mine, the cries were piercing and I could hear other sounds—shouts and muffled footfalls. Cautiously, I made my way along the corridor.
Most of the rooms here were empty, their doors hanging open like dark mouths. Were the occupants all out roaming the castle?
A shadow moved in the next bedroom that I passed. My first instinct was to run, but instead I stayed, allowing my eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom. The shadow was a male, standing near the window, head bowed. He rocked slightly backwards and forwards, like someone caught up in their own world. As he lifted his head, I drew back, hoping he hadn’t seen me.
Voices echoed from outside in the corridor—coming from the other end. I had perhaps a second before they’d come into view—before I would be seen. I ducked inside an antechamber—old paintings and musty rolled carpets stacked against the walls. I watched from the darkness as Mr. Batiste and Mr. Baldcott strode along the hallway—a writhing youth in their grasp. Mrs. Batiste, Clarkson and a few men marched close behind. Zach wasn’t amongst them.
The youth’s screams filled the air, his white face a mask of terror. My limbs froze—the young man was Emerson. The faces of his family were cold and intent as they pushed him down the corridor.
Had Emerson changed from his catatonic state to something dangerous? What had he done to make his family drag him through the castle like this?
Emerson screamed out a bloodcurdling no as he was dragged into the bedroom where I’d seen the shadowed person. And then... nothing.
Silence fell all around—silence as though all the screams and shouts had been absorbed into the castle walls, as though the walls themselves had closed around Emerson.
My heart was a drum against my chest wall.
Emerson’s family emerged, their faces tight and glowing with sheens of sweat.
They strode away with no one speaking, as though the whole scene hadn’t happened. A heavy, morbid silence fell.
I crept away from the antechamber, to the room where they’d taken Emerson. He lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully. Silvered moonlight fell upon the planes of his face, his face holding no sign of the anguish he’d been through just moments ago. His face was too still, eerily still.
The shadowed man had disappeared, as though he’d only been a ghost.
Cold reached inside my chest with grasping fingers. I shivered, not wanting to be near this room with Emerson a moment longer.
15. BACK TO BATISTES’ HOUSE
~ETHAN~
Present Day
Universe 2
I steal back into a house stripped of life. Party food and glasses of wine are everywhere on the tables, as though the guests at this party evaporated into thin air. The house looks like what it really is. Just a shell, a front for the Batistes. A TV set has been left on in the study, and a song streams from a movie—the throaty notes of Louis Armstrong singing, What a wonderful world. It’s one of Granddad’s favorite songs, but here it’s just dead wrong.
This house is exactly the same as the house in the ice world. There may not be ice and snow here, but I sense the coldness, the evil.
I know what I will find before my feet take me down the steps to the basement. For Cassie’s sake, I don’t want to continue—because then I’ll never have to tell her what I saw. But I have to see it for myself.
The door is unlocked and it swings open as I push on it. Two bodies lay on the floor, the man slumped over the woman as though he tried to shield her. The blood from their bullet wounds is already dry on the dusty floor. I know blood—I’ve seen enough of it over the past year. Cassie’s parents have been dead for days.
Cursing, I slam my hand against the door.
This is not the first time I’ve seen Cassie’s parents dead. I’d seen them lying dead together months ago—in the frozen world. I found them almost completely buried at snow in Devils Hole. I’d been looking for Granddad at the time, and thought the couple holding each other under the snow were just more unfortunates who got trapped out there. But I noticed the curve of the woman’s cheekbone, and it reminded me of Cassie, and I looked closer. I guessed what had happened. Cassie’s father must have come to Australia to search the forest for Cassie with her mother, and when the ice came, they didn’t have a chance. They froze to death.
I can already see Cassie’s eyes when I have to tell her she has no one left.
A dark shape on the opposite side of the room catches my attention. A figure lying on the floor. I don't know who this is.
Making my way down the stairs, I step across to the figure. It's a man, dressed in a plain suit, his face covered in blood. I reach inside his jacket and check his pockets. There's a gun holster, with a gun still in it. Whoever shot him must have caught him unawares, before he could defend himself. There's a badge inside his pocket. And a name. Detective Martin Kalassi. I remember him—he was the detective that led the searches when Molly and Frances went missing, and again when Aisha went missing.
I turn and leave quickly. There’s nothing I can do here.
The TV set in the study switches to a news broadcast as I make my way back. I hear the name, Seth McAllister, and stop dead. Granddad’s face appears on the section of screen that I can see from out here in the hallway. I see him being led away from a courtroom. He looks haggard and ill. A reporter states that Seth McAllister died of a heart attack in his prison cell days ago. My fists clench. I feel as though a force has just punched me in the chest. Air pulls painfully through my lungs.
The news footage changes. It’s me, and I wear prison gear. The lettering above my image spells, EXECUTION.
The woman reporter continues in her bland, quick voice:
When Seth McAllister’s grandson—convicted felon Ethan McAllister—heard of his grandfather’s death, he went into a blind fury. He recanted his confession to his part in the dollhouse abductions and then went into a violent psychosis. Reports state that Ethan began speaking of ghosts and giant serpents. He was placed in solitary yesterday morning. He died with a single gunshot to the head close to midnight—in what authorities are terming an execution-style murder.
The Ethan of this world died. The Ethan of this world lost Cassie, and never got to tell her what really happened. The Ethan of this world lost his grandfather. He lost everything.
My mind spins. If the ice hadn’t come, if my granddad and I had been charged with the dollhouse abductions, I knew I would have done the same as the Ethan of this world. To protect Granddad, I would have lied in court and said that it was me helping Henry to abduct the girls.
For a moment, my brain grays out.
The news footage changes again—this time to scenes of a trial, dated as January of the previous year. The reporter’s voice slices through my head:
Seth McAllister had spoken in his trial early last year of the claimed murders of his daughter and son-in-law—Alkira and Finnegan—who were in possession of a box of papers belonging to Seth’s father, Thomas.
Alkira McAllister and her husband Finnegan died when their car ran off a steep embankment, in an accident involving a truck. Mr. McAllister claimed that they were deliberately run off the road by descendants of the Fiveash family. Ethan McAllister was the only occupant of the car to survive, then aged just nine years of age.
The mysterious box of papers was claimed to have been stolen by the murderers at the scene of the car crash. Thomas McAllister worked on the Fiveash estate in 1920 as a gardener. In the courtroom, ninety-three-year old Seth claimed that his father, Thomas, was witness to evildoings by the Fiveash family. Any hope of unraveling this mystery is most probably dead—buried deep within the ground when land subsidence caused the Fiveash mansion and outbuildings to completely collapse and become buried deep within. There is no chance of recovering any effects from the former Fiveash estate.
None o
f the survivors of the macabre abductions could be located for comment. In further bizarre developments, all former abductees of the infamous dollhouse appear to be missing. At this time, Lacey Dougherty remains missing from her psychiatric ward. Cassandra Claiborne and her mother were said to have returned to their former home in Florida, USA—but cannot be found. Aisha Dumaj, on holiday in Florida, has just been reported missing by her parents. Frances Allanzi and her family have reportedly moved away from the glare of the media and cannot be contacted. Sophronia—whom was too traumatized to remember her last name—disappeared from hospital within months of her rescue and has been missing ever since.
Detective Martin Kalassi is on his way to the United States. He has taken a personal interest in the outcomes of the abductees, having been first on the scene when the first of the abductees, Cassandra Claiborne, escaped from the dollhouse.
The bizarre story has kept the world shocked and intrigued since the day of the rescue of the dollhouse abductees. Thousands of amateur detectives around the globe have started websites and blogs on the dollhouse mysteries.
I force myself to move. Images from the news footage burn through my brain. Granddad looked so lost and afraid in the courtroom. I have to let it go. I can’t grieve for a grandfather I never knew. I can’t allow myself thoughts of another version of myself. There is no time. Blood shoots through my veins.
I have to hope Cassie is safe for the moment. The people of the castle need her—they’ve kept her alive for some reason.
The day is about to dawn. Time to return to the ice world. The electric fences around the rangers’ compounds will be shut off at first light. I can break in and search again for Frances. Today, I tell myself, today I must find her. Today I will find her. I keep all other thoughts in deep-freeze and head into the refraction.
