As I followed her, I could’ve sworn the glassy gazes of the countless dead animals tracked my movement as we crossed into what turned out to be the living room.
The faint flicker of light came from the dying embers of a fire burning low in a hulking stone fireplace. Its muted glow revealed the stares of evenmoretaxidermy animals, this time joined by the judgmental glares of grimy portraits, their occupants little more than vaguely humanoid shapes beneath centuries of neglect.
Carved side tables lined the walls, cluttered with unlit candles, tarnished trinkets and, oddly, an assortment of creepy Victorian toys. The hearth itself was surrounded by a mismatched collection of threadbare chairs, their upholstery worn thin by time.
Atop the three-seater couch sat a porcelain doll—the only thing in the room untouched by dust—staring lifelessly into thedying fire. Her clothes were pristine, the burgundy velvet of her dress catching the firelight with a soft sheen.
Her shockingly red hair looked to have been freshly brushed and carefully styled with a ridiculously large bow.
“Um, Creep?” Caitlyn said to the doll, which remained lifeless. “You know how I said we might have someone joining us for a few weeks? Well, as it turns out, Blaise”—she gestured vaguely in my direction—“is actually my fated, erm... mate.”
She stumbled over the word, and something in my chest tightened.
Of course she wasn’t ready. If she were, she would’ve already summoned me. The realization sent a prickle of guilt and dread skating over my skin. Neither of us had been prepared for this. Did either of us even want it?
“And he’ll be staying here...” Caitlyn trailed off, the uncertainty in her voice mirroring my own thoughts.
WouldI be staying? We barely knew each other. Until six months ago, it had never crossed my mind to question that one day I’d have this total stranger standing in front of me that I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
Hades. What a monumental train wreck this was about to be.
And what was worse was I had kind of hoped for a split second after I’d felt the bond settle into place that Ambrose and that night would simply fade away. But he hadn’t. And how did one say to their new mate“Hi! Nice to meet you! You look lovely, and smell delicious, and my body is begging me to skip the house tour and devour you, but—side note—I'm kinda low-key still in love with someone else.”
And Gods only knew what had been happening in Caitlyn’s life all these years—what had made her wait, what had kept her from summoning me at all.
But regardless, I was maybe going to be here for a while, which meant I’d have to make a good first impression on a house that was, apparently, notoriously difficult to win over.
I pulled my most charming smile and offered a small bow to the creepy-ass doll, and —hoping that this wasn’t an elaborate prank—said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
A moment passed in complete silence.
Then, slowly, the doll’s head swiveled a full one-eighty to face me.
Her face was cherubically chubby, painted with the faintest wash of peach. Her lips were fixed in an angelic grin, stained the same rouge that warmed her cheeks, while dark red brows arched in a strangely friendly, permanent curve. Her eyes sent a shiver down my spine—the mint-green irises, framed by a fan of disturbingly realistic lashes, sliding up and down inside their sockets as if assessing me.
Yep. Creep definitely earned her name.
At a loss for anything specific I could compliment her on, I finally settled on, “I adore the gothic vibe of the house.”
Creep’s eyes narrowed a fraction, as if weighing whether I meant it. Ironically enough, I did.
Had I ever in a million years imagined myself spending the rest of my days in a haunted house, appeasing a possessed doll?
No. Not even a little.
And yet, standing there, it felt oddly... homey. The same thrill stirred in my chest that I’d felt all those years ago when those kids dared me into the abandoned house—the itch of curiosity, of wanting to explore every shadowed corner.
And, completely out of character for me, I felt a near-overwhelming urge to grab the nearest duster and start uncovering whatever treasures lay hidden beneath decades of dust and grime.
Unable to help myself, I crossed the room to the nearest table and reached for the glass dome centerpiece. I had just enough time to register Caitlyn’s wide-eyed stare—her mouth opening as if to warn me not to touch it—before my hands closed around the glass.
Caitlyn’s gaze flicked anxiously between me and Creep, whose narrowed stare tracked my every movement. I blew gently, sending a plume of dust swirling off the dome in a glittering cloud before it settled heavily onto the floorboards at my feet.
Something dark lay within, still obscured by grime. Without thinking, I cradled the dome against my chest and rubbed a clear patch with the sleeve of my jacket. The filth seemed to seep into the fabric, and I found myself hoping that the house had a washing machine. Otherwise, this was going to be an expensive trip to the dry cleaners.
After a few moments of scrubbing, the glass cleared enough to reveal a pair of beady red eyes staring back at me. A large, fat black rat sat preserved inside, frozen mid-snarl.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Creep tilt her head, as if daring me to drop the taxidermy rat in disgust.
