The Dollmaker's Curse Series: Books 1 to 3 Bundle

596 pages

Chapter 2

Lights flickered to life on their own as Fiona entered the vault. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the vault was not it. There was a narrow aisle laid out before her with floor to ceiling wood paneled walls on either side. She could see illuminated windows set at regular intervals into each side of the wall, and branches in the hallway to the left and right after several yards.

She walked to the first of the windows and stopped. It happened to be a display case, a doll held within. It was a Victorian style porcelain doll with thick, curly black hair and a ghostly white face. It was set upon a raised dais, illuminated overhead by a small bulb. The doll wore an elegant dress, the style Fiona imagined royalty might have worn a hundred years ago.

The face of the doll made her pause. The red lips against white porcelain were set in a sneer. The black eyes were oddly detailed, painted by a skilled hand to look almost real. The expression was cruel, which seemed at odds with the soft look of the rest of the doll. A tiny placard beneath the doll read ‘Renata of Blades’.

Opposite Renata was another display case that held a dirty looking rag doll with lemon yellow hair and silver button eyes. The mouth was stitched with red thread that made it look like it was bleeding. The name on the doll read ‘Cracklin’ Rose’.

Fiona continued down the aisles. There were marionette puppets, plastic action figures, and even a doll that seemed to be carved from a single piece of wood. Some looked hundreds of years old and others looked like they could have been placed in the vault that very morning. But each one had something that seemed off about it. Whether it was Renata’s cruel expression or a little bride cake topper that was holding a kitchen knife in a menacing fashion, they all seemed like the sort of toys a responsible parent would think twice about giving to their child.

The aisles led to more aisles. There seemed to be about one hundred dolls, if she had to guess. Each case had a small control panel before it, a combination lock that opened it to gain access to the dolls within.

Near the middle of the room, she stopped again. One of the cases was open. The glass panel looked like it had lowered into the wall, rolled down like a car window. There was no doll in the case, only a name placard that read ‘Krov the Clown’.

Fiona touched the little dais inside the display case. It was glass and felt cold to the touch. The light in the case was off. She didn’t know where her uncle had put Krov the Clown, but his case was clean and ready for his return.

The sense that she was being watched slowly crept its way along her back. She felt her chest tighten and her anxiety rising. She tried to shake it off because it made no sense, and she knew it. There was nowhere for anyone to hide in the vault without her seeing them. But the feeling persisted.

She turned and looked down the aisle the way she had come. There was nothing. Nothing in the other direction, either. But the feeling persisted.

The light behind her drew her attention then, and she turned around completely. The display case opposite the empty one housed a squat little Russian nesting doll. It was shaped more like a bowling pin than a traditional doll a child might play with. No arms or legs, just smooth wood that was wide at the midsection and narrower towards the head.

The doll was painted with a bright palette of colors, splashed with red and green and yellow with heavy black accents. The design was made to look like a plump Russian lady, her head covered by a scarf. And within the scarf, a small but detailed face.

Fiona stared at the doll. The sense of unease within her grew. The doll’s tiny blue eyes seemed to connect with her own. The pit of her stomach twisted, and she felt an acrid taste bubbling to the back of her throat. She was anxious and jittery and couldn’t account for why.

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