Smoke and Mirrors Page 2

  I turned around, staring up at the top of the wardrobe.

  The doll’s house.

  It was intact, not burned out like…I paused and shook my head. Like what? I wasn’t sure why, but I knew it should have looked different. Charred and blackened, with blistered paint and gaping holes where the fire had eaten it away.

  Then, as I watched, a soft orange glow appeared in the empty windows.

  I stared, transfixed, as it spread, shining through each of the windows on the ground floor. It was the first colour I’d seen since I’d been here, and it was strangely, hypnotically beautiful.

  Smoke began to drift out of the windows as the cellophane curled away, and I smelled that smell again. I knew it now – the thick, chemical stench of melting plastic, the raw smell of burning paper. It spread out, surrounding me.

  Suddenly, I realised that the smoke wasn’t coming from the house on top of the wardrobe. It was flooding the air, filling the room.

  Coughing and spluttering, I turned away from the wardrobe. The stairs. I had to get down the stairs, get out of the house…

  On the other side of the room, the bedcovers shifted and fell back. The doll sat up, turning its head to stare at me. It had flat blue eyes and a wide, painted-on smile stretched across its porcelain cheeks. It stared at me, and stretched out a hand.

  I tried to scream, but the sound choked in my throat, coming out as a strangled squeak. As the doll climbed out of the bed, I backed towards the door. The smoke was thicker here, but I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, I had to get away.

  The doll pushed itself to its feet and began to walk towards me. Its gait was wobbly and unbalanced, its arms flailing by its sides, its feet dragging along the floor with a shufflethump, shufflethump.

  I shot out of the door, slamming it behind me, and stopped dead at the top of the stairs. Flames were licking along the banisters, and the air was so thick with smoke I could barely see the walls or the ceiling above me.

  Shufflethump, shufflethump, and the handle of the door began to turn. I ran along the landing into another room, shut the door behind me and leaned against the flimsy wooden frame.

  On the other side of the room was a mirror, and inside the mirror was someone that wasn’t me.

  She looked like me, but only in the way that the doll looked like me. Her eyes and her smile were wrong. The doll’s were too flat, too expressionless. This woman, though…her eyes and her smile were full of expression, one I’d seen before, although I couldn’t remember where.

  The woman in the mirror walked forwards, across the reflected room, and stopped just inside the frame. Still wearing that bright, horrifying smile, she raised her fist and brought it down on the glass.

  Crack.

  I whimpered as a spiderweb of lines appeared across the mirror. The woman drew her arm back and swung it forwards again.

  Crack.

  There was a thump behind me, and the door rocked in its frame. I screamed and stumbled forwards, and the door creaked open. The smoke poured in, followed by the blurry figure of the doll, which shambled towards me, its arms jabbing blindly at the air.

  Shufflethump. Shufflethump.

  Crack.

  I huddled in the middle of the room, my breath coming in sobs and gasps. No windows. No other doors. No way out.

  CRACK.

  I jerked awake with a yelp. Light was pouring through my window, and, when I looked at my phone, the time read 8:14am. Groaning, I set it back down and rubbed my eyes.

  “Beth?” There was a thump on the door. Crawling out of bed, I stumbled over and pulled it open, blinking blearily in the morning light.

  James looked down at me, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you all right? We said we’d meet downstairs at 7:30.”

  “Yeah, I…”

  “Slept through your alarm, eh?”

  “I wish I hadn’t.” I pushed a hand through my hair. “God, what a horrible night.”

  “Really?” James said. “Mine was fine. I’ve never had such a comfy bed.”

  “The bed wasn’t the problem,” I muttered. “Just…weird dreams. Anyway, give me a minute, I’ll be downstairs soon.”

  After a quick wash and a glass of water, I felt vaguely more human. I shoved my clothes back into my bag, then reached up on tiptoe and pulled the towel away from the doll’s house. It looked exactly the same as it had last night.

  I glared up at it. “You have a lot to answer for, you know.”

  By the time I got downstairs, James was waiting for me at the desk. He smiled as he saw me. “You look like hell, sis.”

  “Thanks so much.” Dropping my bag on the floor, I dug the key out of my pocket and pressed the bell. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Good morning!” the woman called as she appeared through the hidden door. I narrowed my eyes, studying her face. Her smile this morning was obnoxiously cheerful, but then, so was James’. Stupid morning people.

  “Did you enjoy your stay?” the woman asked as she took our keys.

  “It was lovely, thank you,” James said politely.

  “I’m very glad to hear it.” The woman pushed forward the guest book. “Would you mind signing out?”

  I scribbled my signature next to the one from yesterday. Handing the pen to James, I stepped back.

  James leaned forwards over the desk and signed the book with a flourish. I glanced at him, then blinked and stared. A cold, sick feeling began to spread through my stomach.

  Smiling at the woman, James set down the pen. “Thanks again,” he said, turning towards the door.

  Bending down, he picked up his bag with his left hand.

  She blogs at Alice Nuttall Books, and rambles about food and writing on Twitter. More writing news is available via her Facebook page.