Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,41

The hearse that had retrieved the body had long since gone.

Sighing, she crossed her legs, lowered herself to the weed-choked ground, and waited.

Alex cowered on the floor, covering her ears in a futile attempt to block the constant wailing that assaulted her. The screams escalated until she added her own to the mix.

A shudder rippled through the room, silencing the voices.

Her ears continued to ring in the ensuing calm. The sudden shift unnerved her, but she used the moment to pick herself up from the floor. She turned in a slow circle, staring at the dolls lining the walls of what could’ve been a dining room, if it had been furnished with anything other than floor-to-ceiling shelves. Each doll was unique in hair, eye color, dress, and expression. As she examined one shelf, soft murmuring seemed to emanate from the dolls.

So dark.

Please, no!

Can anyone hear me?

He’s coming.

Oh, God! No!

As she moved around the room, similar whispers filtered from other shelves. She reached a broad archway that fed into a dark paneled foyer. More voices called to her from beyond the archway. She stepped into the wide hallway and fresh horror hit her.

Clusters of dolls lined the walls, sitting on shelves, tucked into large shadowboxes, staring out from behind the dusty glass of display cases. At the opposite end of the hall, a sprawling staircase swept upward and curved back on itself to access the second floor. More dolls sat between each carved banister spindle.

All doubt of where she was left her. She was in the center of the Dollmaker’s lair. The question that remained was how.

Another rippling shudder passed through the house. The wave hit Alex and made her shiver, leaving in its wake the sensation of cobwebs covering her body. They pulled at her hair and tugged at her clothing as though they would draw her deeper into the house. She passed another archway, pausing to peek inside what had probably served as a parlor once upon a time. Shelving identical to the other room lined the walls.

Somewhere overhead a door opened, closed, and a man’s voice drifted down to her. “I know you’re here, little one.”

The unseen webs tugged more forcefully when the man spoke, excited by his voice. Alex brushed at them while she crept into the shadows beneath the winding stairs.

“Let’s play a game.” Footsteps echoed on hardwood in the distance. “Hide-and-seek.”

Alex froze.

“Remember how that used to be one of your favorite games?”

She began to tremble. Childhood memories flittered before her, narrated by a stranger.

“Darting among the headstones of that cemetery near your house. Hiding under your parents’ bed.” Another door opened and closed. “The way you shrieked when you were found. So precious.”

How could he know about that? Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

Footsteps neared the stairs and paused at their apex. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Another ripple cascaded down the stairs and throughout the first floor but avoided her hiding place. The cobwebs that had pulled at her seemed to loosen and fall away.

Movement on the stairs above stilled her breath.

“Tricky, tricky,” her still-unseen pursuer muttered, then raised his voice. “Oh, you’re good, but I’ll find you, chickie.” Feet rapidly descended the stairs. “Chickie chickie, boom boom.” He laughed as he stomped on the last two stairs.

The scent of leather and old blood wafted to her, and Alex retreated farther into the shadows. She could see him now—the Dollmaker—standing with his back to her at the foot of the stairs.

She estimated his height at over six feet. He swiveled his head from side to side, scanning the wide hallway. Short blond hair clung to his skull as though it was damp. When he finally moved, his long legs covered the distance between the stairs and the front of the house with purposeful strides. He paused next to the archway into the dining room, and she caught a glimpse of his profile before he disappeared from view.

She had to move, had to find a way out. Keeping her focus on the archway where he’d disappeared, Alex slipped from the shadows, hugging the wall as best she could while avoiding display cases and doll-filled shelves. She came to a closed door and reached for the porcelain knob.

Her hand passed through it as though made of air. Laughter filled the hall, and she glanced toward the archway.

The Dollmaker leaned against the doorjamb. His blue eyes sparkled and white fangs flashed as he grinned. “Tag, chickie,” he whispered. “You’re it.”

Alex sprinted for the stairs. She could hear