Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,42
him giving chase. Grabbing for the stair’s railing, she stumbled as her hand once again failed to make contact.
Behind her, the Dollmaker whooped in delight.
A shadow darted down the stairs, forcing Alex to duck as it sped by overhead. It slammed into the Dollmaker’s chest and sent him sliding backward along the hardwood floors.
He crashed into a display case, toppling it and spilling the contents. A chorus of screams erupted as porcelain doll faces shattered. Wisps of silvery-white mist drifted up from the remains.
“No!” The Dollmaker reached for the tiny puffs of mists, but they easily slipped through his fingers and evaporated. Rising to his knees, he threw his head back and howled like a wounded animal.
Alex covered her ears as hundreds of voices matched his wail.
The shadow that had slammed into the Dollmaker dropped to the stairs in front of her, taking on the form of a man in a dark suit. He extended his hand to her. “Time to go, Princess.”
She gaped at her father but clapped her hand in his without question.
As they raced up the stairs, the Dollmaker shouted from below. “No! She’s mine!”
Alex and her father reached the second floor and plunged down a hall nearly identical to the foyer. The dolls were fewer in number here, interspersed with artwork, photos, and mirrors. A large multipane window glowed with fading sunlight at the opposite end.
“You have to get to the light and cross the Veil,” her father said as they ran. “Find Varik. He’s waiting for you.”
She dug in her heels in the center of the hall, staring at one of the dolls encased in glass like a priceless piece of art.
“Alexandra, we don’t have time for sightseeing.”
“Hang on.” She pulled away from her father and stepped closer to the glass enclosure.
Dressed in overalls and a red-and-blue striped shirt, the doll held a miniature bouquet of daisies in its hands. Red hair styled in pigtails framed a familiar smiling face. Dark green eyes rimmed in gold stared back at her.
“That’s me,” she whispered. She looked at the other dolls encased in similar glass boxes. Each wore a different outfit and hairstyle but the face remained the same. “They’re all me.”
“Alexandra,” her father said, spinning her around to face him. He glanced toward the sound of the Dollmaker charging up the stairs. “We have to go. Now!”
The Dollmaker reached the top of the stairs and stopped, glaring at them, his face twisted in rage. “Back away, old man.”
Her father moved in front of her, shielding her. He backed up slowly, forcing her to match his steps, and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“She came to me.” The Dollmaker advanced. “She’s mine.”
“Keep dreaming, buddy,” Alex muttered.
Her father shot her a withering glance over his shoulder.
The Dollmaker stretched his arms wide and continued to advance. He voice softened as he focused on her. “I made them all for you—gifts for my soul mate. Don’t you like them?”
“They’re fucking creepy as hell. You’re a sick bastard, and I’m not your fucking soul mate.”
“Such ugly language from such a pretty mouth.” He grinned, showing the full extent of his fangs. “I like it.”
Alex and her father had nearly reached the window when the Dollmaker lunged forward.
“Daddy!” she screamed as her father rushed ahead, meeting the attack head-on.
A burst of energy struck the Dollmaker, knocking him back. He growled but didn’t charge again. “Impressive, old man. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“There is much you don’t know about me.” Her father took up a low fighting stance in the center of the hall.
“Perhaps, but I’m not the only one.” He focused on Alex and smiled. “Am I?”
“You’ll not lay a hand on my daughter,” her father growled. Not shifting his attention, he asked over his shoulder, “Princess, do you remember when we used to play rocket ship?”
“Daddy’s little princess,” the Dollmaker sneered, pacing like a predator trapped in a cage. “Not for long, old man.”
“Yes,” she answered her father’s question, ignoring the other’s taunts.
“Get ready.”
She dropped into a crouch.
“Blast off!”
Alex and her father both sprang into action. He turned and ran for her. She leapt into the air, arms outstretched. The Dollmaker’s roar of fury echoed the childhood sound effect in her mind. Her father caught her in midair as he jumped forward, and they both sailed through the window, into the twilight.
ten
EMILY FOUND HERSELF IN AN ALL-TOO-FAMILIAR POSITION: pacing the floor while she waited for the phone to ring. How many times had she performed the same