“Oh,” Trinket squealed, springing up and rushed out of the room. She came back with a steaming mug of rich brown coffee, cream still swirling around the top in lazy circles. “I forgot your coffee.”
She put it on the bedside table next to me and went back to sitting at the end of the bed. I dug in with gusto and was four or five mouthfuls in before a thought hit me. I had the eggs and maybe half a loaf of bread. Where had the bacon and sausage come from?
“Trinket? Where did you get the meat?”
“Oh, I went down to the grocery store after you’d fallen asleep. I took your keys, locked up behind me and let myself back in later.”
I swallowed. “Did you steal it?”
As far as I had been aware, she had given all her money to DJ for the lock.
“Of course not. I took one of the small bills in that jar you have in the cupboard labeled “food money”. I found it when I was cleaning.”
“Cleaning?” I pushed the tray off to the side and got out of bed, padding barefoot to look out into the rest of my apartment.
The floor had been swept and polished. The kitchen surfaces gleamed. No dust covered any of the surfaces and the stain that had been on the rug was gone. “What did you do? Stay up all night and clean house?”
“Yes,” she said in a pleasant, matter-of-fact voice. “What did you expect me to do all night? I don’t sleep.”
I stumbled back to bed and stabbed a sausage with my fork. I wasn’t sure how I felt about what she had done. On one hand, it was nice to have a clean apartment, as cleaning was my least favorite chore. On the other hand, she’d taken a liberty, made herself more at home then I liked. I told myself to get over it and be grateful as I chomped down on the sausage.
“Thank you.”
As I ate, I watched Trinket out of the corner of my eye; she was stroking her fingers through one of her curls, tugging on it, in an almost nervous way. Her dress had a heart shaped neckline and burgundy puffed sleeves, and split, at a bow on her right hip, to show three layers of white skirt underneath, the last of which was delicate and lacy with some kind of floral pattern.
I liked it. It was a lot more down to earth and less elaborate that any of her other outfits that I’d seen so far. The others had all seemed very showy to me, designed to be noticed.
I thought of another question. “Did anyone see you when you went out?”
She shook her head. “Well, the clerk at the store, but that was it. I wasn’t followed, I promise.”
I nodded my head to indicate that was good, as my mouth was full. Despite her lack of an appetite, Trinket could cook.
Trinket went back to stroking that same lock of hair. I swallowed and washed the last of breakfast down with the coffee, then I sat with my back against the headboard, the coffee cradled in my hands and my legs crossed Indian style.
“What’s up? Is there something more that your aren’t telling me?”
She looked at me and there was a flash of something on her face, the start of an emotion that she cut dead. She turned her head back and tugged on the curl more insistently.
“Trinket.”
“It’s difficult. I was trying to think of a way to lead into it, but it’s really so strange that I can’t think of a way to.”
I put my coffee down and focused on her. She wasn’t making sense. I had half-expected that as soon as I finished my food that she would start listing reasons I should let her stay with me. She’d demonstrated that she could cook and clean, two things that I was not inclined toward, either for a lack of time or a lack of willpower.
“Just tell me what it is.”
“Well,” she said, placing her hands in her lap; realizing, I think, that the tugging of her hair was giving her nervousness away. “I told you I went out, you were sleeping, so I assume you didn’t hear me go.”
I nodded and made a “speed it up gesture” with my hand. I had a dreadful feeling starting in my stomach, and I wanted her to get to the point.
“When I got back, there was a man here.”
She blurted it out in a rush. I fell back against the wood of the bed. There had been a man in my room. It couldn’t have been Aram, he was still barred. I’d never re-invited him in after the last time I’d gotten mad at him. Jareth had access, but why would he return so soon after speaking to me? I reached for my cup to take a sip of the coffee and realized that my hand was shaking.
“A man? What did this man look like?” I abandoned the attempt to reach for coffee. I hoped she was going to describe Jareth to me and, I could call him and sort it all out.
“I couldn’t see him very well, it was very dark, the shadows seemed to collect around him. I think he was bald or that kind of shaved head where the hair is real short. I didn’t see what he was wearing more than, y’know, shirt, slacks and shoes.”
Coldness crept right down into my stomach. I knew no one who matched that description.
“What was he doing?” My throat was dry despite the coffee I’d just been drinking.
“He wasn’t really doing anything. Just sort of stood at the end of the bed, watching you sleep. He didn’t seem to care that I saw him either.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I was about to yell at him when he turned and kind of dissipated. Like the moonlight hit him and he was gone. He had an awful smile.”
“Bad teeth?” I asked. It was the only question my shocked brain could give me.
“No, no, not like that. It was wide and full of teeth, like an evil Cheshire cat. It was as if he was made of shadows and his teeth were moonlight shone through a gap. It gave me the creeps, but I did wonder…” She trailed off.
“What did you wonder?”
“Well, if maybe he was your boyfriend or something. Then I remembered that you were with the vampire that came to the show with you.”
“We’re not,” I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
I brought my knees up so I could wrap my arm around and press my forehead to them. Trinket reached over and patted my head to show her sympathy, although I was pretty sure she didn’t understand why it was complicated.
I thought about the man she had seen instead. The grin like a Cheshire cat, a mouth wide with teeth that were scary and sharp. I wondered if this was the same presence I’d felt in the shower, the one I’d felt caress my naked back.
“He left you that,” said Trinket solemnly.
My head shot up and I followed the line of her arm as she pointed to a white box tied with a gold ribbon sitting on the chaise. I scrambled out of bed to it, ripping the lid off, not in excitement but in fear. Inside were several trays of ordinary looking chocolates and another buff-colored card. With trembling fingers I picked it up, as though it might burn me.
You won’t escape, when I come for you.
I dropped the card and took a step back; then, realizing I was still holding the lid, threw it onto the couch. I went first for the balcony doors, but they were still latched shut. I darted from the room to check the bathroom window and the spare room; they were both shut and locked, as was the one in the living room. I marched back into my room.
“Are you sure you locked up when you left?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
I stood there tapping my foot. None of my locks had been forced, magically or otherwise, so I was pretty sure it had not been an actual person in my apartment. I had been visited by a familiar.
A familiar could be more than a cat to a witch. It could be a construct that took a shape that the owner found pleasing. I’d seen a dog made up entirely of bats and a bird made of butterflies. This familiar sounded like it was made of shadows, of dark things not touched by the light. I was being stalked by someone who used magic, a warlock or something darker. I rushed out of my room again, gathering the other cards and laying them out on the floor to complete the rhyme.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, you won’t escape when I come for you,” I said quietly. Definitely not a nice guy. I flashed back to
that strange little goblin I’d seen in the sewers. He wanted the dark one. Who had I ever met that fit that description—someone who could write a note like this with equal parts malice and desire? It clearly read, to me, that if he couldn’t have me then he’d hurt me.
I sat back on my haunches, looking at the three cards. I’d met one warlock in recent memory. He was young, in his teens, but he really hadn’t been all that powerful. He had looked at me with almost the right amount of hatred and lust for this sort of game, though. Men like that saw a woman with power and they wanted to prove they could dominate her.
I could rule out the kid, though; he probably wouldn’t remember me and he was all hormones and aggression. This was the work of a more sophisticated palette. I would have to take steps. I would take the chocolates to Ro, get her to look them over for possible extras-like poison.
“Miss Cassandra, are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I said, drawing myself up to my feet. “I’m good. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“I would too, with creepy shadow things in my bedroom.”
The doorbell rang. Trinket hugged the bedpost and looked nervous. I put a finger to my lips. I knew that whoever was at the door was from my normal world, but Trinket didn’t need to know or understand any of that. I went to the front door and answered it. Incarra pushed past me, dumping her bag on my living room floor.
“Right, I’ve come to a decision,” she said, spinning to face me. I gave a wry smile as I shut the door.
“Why, hello, Incarra. Do come in.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You think you’re funny?”
“I think I’m adorable, but you were saying?”
“Yes. So, my first time venturing into your other world didn’t work out. I’m a get back on the horse kind of girl, so I say we try again but do something completely blasé, like go to a movie. They do have movies over there, right?”
“Can I come?”
Incarra did that slow horror movie turn to look at Trinket who, having heard no familiar voices, thought it okay to join us.
“Oh,” said Incarra, staring. I could only imagine what she was seeing with her awakened ability.
“Trinket, you’re supposed to be hiding.”
She looked a little crestfallen, as if for a moment she’d forgotten her situation. Incarra seemed transfixed.
“Inc? You okay?”
She looked at me, then back at Trinket.
“What is she?”
Trinket didn’t take offense; she’d probably heard it a few times before.
“How about I make up some fresh coffee and we can talk about that?”
“Oh, I can do that.” Trinket hustled into the kitchen to brew up a fresh pot of coffee. She tootled back into my bedroom to collect my near empty plate and the now cold mug of coffee to wash them up. She bustled about the kitchen full of purpose, getting out an extra mug, pulling the creamer out of the fridge, refilling the sugar bowl.
“Who is she?” hissed Incarra. “She’s acting like it’s her kitchen.”
“She’s having some family problems and is staying with me for a while.”
Trinket carried over two cups of coffee, with the cream and sugar on a tray so that we could help ourselves. For a moment Incarra was completely focused on her drink. Trinket looked at me hopefully. I narrowed my eyes and mouthed “we’ll talk about it later”, realizing that I’d pretty much just invited her to stay by accident.
Incarra took her first sip of coffee after a deep inhalation over the rim, and she was suddenly back in the conversation.
“So, explain what Betty Crocker here is?”
I arched an eyebrow at Incarra. I didn’t understand her attitude. “Her name is Trinket and she’s a doll.”
“Like Pinocchio? Does she want to be a real boy? Girl?”
“No, she’s having trouble with her family. I told you that.”
“So, she’s just going to move in here with you?” I leaned back and I think I got part of her mood. I’d let what she considered a stranger into my home, given her free rein—unintentionally of course—and she worried that I was being taken advantage of. Also, I saw she was a little pissed because she’d dropped hints to me in the last couple of months that she wanted to live away from her mom and that I had a spare room.
“She’s not staying long. We’ll work things out so that she can go home. I don’t mind her pottering around cleaning up and making coffee, saves me doing it.”
Trinkets face split into her stage smile. Incarra grumbled into her coffee; something about stray puppies. I took a sip of my own coffee, letting the silence between us grow until the tension began to vibrate in the air. Incarra turned a steely stare on Trinket.
“So, what’s wrong with your family?”
Trinket folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Sure, sure,” grouched Incarra. I was seeing the tense lines form in her brow that meant she had decided to dislike Trinket on principle. I wasn’t sure what the principle was though.
“No,” I said, “she really can’t.” I explained about the spell. Sympathy crossed Incarra’s face, but then she shoved it down, visibly determined to remain suspicious and pissed.
“Can’t you just write it down?” she asked.
I wonder why I hadn’t thought of that. Trinket looked down at her hands again.
“My fingers aren’t jointed enough for me to grip a pen properly, and I can’t read very well either.”
Incarra and I, as book lovers, knew what a tragedy that was.
“Damn it,” Incarra croaked. “I don’t want to like you, stop being so damn sad and nice. Bride of Chucky me or something?”
Trinket turned her head to look at me.
“It’s a horror movie about dolls possessed by psychotic killers.”
“I’m not evil! That’s so mean.” Trinket pushed to her feet and ran for the spare room. I sighed, putting my coffee down on the table.
“Now you’ve upset her. Go apologize.” I pointed at my spare room imperiously, like a displeased parent.
Incarra blinked at me. “What? Why?”
“Because she is no less a person that you or me. She has feelings and you’ve hurt them. Now you go say you’re sorry for being an ass.”
Incarra looked grumpy and for the first time I realized how much more mature I’d become than my friend; but then again she hadn’t nearly died—twice. I didn’t blink. I locked my eyes with hers until she got up and marched to the back room like she was being forced to do something unspeakable. Apologizing took some people, that way, I’d found. I waited and listened, hearing nothing; then Trinket screeched.
“Give it back!”
I was on my feet so fast it almost made me dizzy. I was cross now; this was like babysitting two rowdy children when one is determined to pick on the other. Incarra was holding a framed picture out of Trinket’s reach, which was hard on both of them, as they were similar heights.
“I said apologize, not antagonize!”
“Hang on a minute, before you get all bent out of shape too,” she groused, tapping the picture. “I know this man. He’s the one that was in the room the night I stayed over.”
I walked between them and snatched the picture, then pushed Trinket onto the bed with my hip and Incarra into the chair with my right. Both opened their mouths to yell at me.
“Zip it, both of you, and let me look.”
I studied the picture. It was a photo of a man wearing a thick leather apron, with thinning hair, goggles on his head, rubber gloves on his hands. He had his arm around a younger? Newer? Trinket with blonde bob cut. They stood in front of what looked like a corrugated metal shed, probably a workshop.
“Trinket, who is this man?” I handed her back the photo.
“That’s daddy. How could your friend have seen him? He died years ago.”
I had to explain to Trinket about ectomancy, which left her wide eyed—more so than usual—staring a
t Incarra with awe.
“Can you see him now? Is he here?” she asked, looking around. Incarra shook her head and looked more than a little relieved. Trinket stroked the photo.
“He said I was his best girl. He tried to make a boy once, but Momma didn’t like it and the magic was wrong. Too much testosterone.” She giggled a little, then placed the photo back on top of her duffle. I looked at Incarra, then back to Trinket. She hopped up.
“Why don’t I go make a snack? I got some cookie dough and can bake you some chocolate chip ones.”
I nodded at her. Incarra mumbled, “Betty Crocker,” again. Trinket ignored her. When I heard cupboards banging, I knew she’d be occupied for a bit. I settled on the edge of the bed with my hands on my slightly parted knees, completely un-ladylike considering I was still in sleep shorts and a T-shirt.
“What’s put a bug up your butt now?”
“Ectomancy is no fun.”
“Did you expect it to be all shits and giggles from my description of it?”
Incarra thought about that. “Well, no, but I didn’t expect to feel this compulsion. Since I discovered it, I’ve wanted to come back, go over with you and, well, use it somehow. The old man said to help her.”
“I think we can assume—favoritism notwithstanding—that he meant Trinket.”
“So it sucks.”
“Why don’t you like her? I mean, I get some of it.”
“I don’t really know. That sounds stupid.”
“Very,” I said, only to get the Incarra death glare. “Let me put it this way. Did you want to clean up after me, make me breakfast in bed and bake cookies when I have company over?”
“Hell no.”
I smiled at her teasingly. “Well then, maybe I do like her better.”
Incarra kicked me but she was smiling now. “Asshat.”
“Ooo, ouch, that’s a new one. I’m going to have to remember that.”
Silent Doll Page 16
