Chapter 1

Dollmaker

Sid Cooper sat at his table at the art exhibition, nervously wringing his pale hands. He sat beside several life-sized dolls, which he made himself. This year, the crowd seemed larger than usual. Good. He thought. The more the merrier. His nervousness turned to joy as a middle aged woman in a faded brown dress approached his stand. Remembering his manners, he tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“This is the first year we had a doll maker in this place,” she said. She glanced at Sid’s work. Most of the dolls were figures of young women, dressed in lacy, modest clothing.

“Yes, and it’s my first year actually bringing my creations out of storage,” Sid replied. “They do no good locked inside my storeroom. All of my creations are handmade. I have someone else make the outfits, by the way.” Sid checked his watch. “Well, I still have enough time before I have to meet up with a friend.” The woman walked off. His gaze then drifted to another curious pair of patrons approaching.

One of the patrons, a twenty-something brunette in a black and white minidress, mentioned to her boyfriend, “Those dolls are creepy.”

“Creepy, yes,” Sid replied, “but it’s still art.” He ran his fingers through his short-cropped dark hair.

The girl’s boyfriend took a second look at the dolls. “They are creepy.” The pair walked off.

“What they see as creepy, I see as pretty,” the artist sighed. He checked his watch a second time. My friend’s waiting for me. I better go.

Outside the art show, a young man in a black hooded cloak stood with his back against the wall, ignoring the shifty glances that the patrons gave him. He crossed his arms, muttering cryptic phrases. He checked his black digital watch. Damn, Sid. You’re late. He pulled the sleeve of his cloak over his wrist, remembering the Cultist Code. Sid strolled outside. “You’re late,” the young man said, narrowing his eyes. “In fifteen minutes Duncan’s gonna give his address on the Solstice Festival. And that’s in two weeks. And you’re not even properly dressed.”

“I can slip my ceremonial robe over my everyday clothes, idiot,” Sid replied, glancing at his friend. “And besides, I outrank you in our sacred circle.” He pulled a black cloak out of his worn backpack and slipped it on. “See?”

The cultist boy groaned. “Let’s go.” The two walked off into the woods. Blackburn Hill, the cult’s stronghold, was only a short walk away from the exhibition hall. The hill was crowned with tall trees. A temple lay in the midst of the trees. The cultist boy and his companion walked up the hill toward the temple. The door was left ajar and the two young men entered the chambers.

Several other cultists, all garbed in black hooded cloaks stood around an altar. Sid and his friend joined the group. The head cultist, a stocky young man named Duncan Fisher, tapped a glass with a fork.

“Ahem, about our unholy holiday in two weeks,” he said. “We still don’t have a virgin sacrifice yet. Just be lucky Perverse is patient. I swore to him that when the day came I’ll offer him a sacrifice. If I don’t, he’ll vaporize me.” Duncan hung his head. “Guess I’m not cut out to be a high priest.”

Sid raised his hand. “May I suggest an idea?”

Duncan turned to his second-in-command. “Yes?”

“I can find a suitable sacrifice,” Sid replied.

The other cultists didn’t really think that he was true. “What? He’s a solstice spawn,” they said. “What if he’s lying?”

“Silence!” Duncan cried. “Let him speak.” The others were quiet at once.

“I usually lure victims to my lair with a modeling ploy,” Sid continued. “Why not reserve one very special girl for the festival?”

“Sounds reasonable,” a girl cultist said.

“Excellent work, my friend,” Duncan beamed, handing Sid a bottle of what looked like lobster bisque. “And remember, use this and they won’t know about your… parentage.” Sid took the bottle and slipped it in his backpack. “You are dismissed, my unholy flock.” The cultists went their separate ways.

The next morning, Veronica Vector arrived at the Hastel Toy Factory. The old toy factory, with its decaying façade, gave an atmosphere of menace. Not only did the winter wind lash against her exposed skin, but looking at a pile of rubbish made the pain seem worse. Veronica spotted light in a window. I thought this place was abandoned. What are they doing in here? What a weird place to hold modeling auditions. She slipped inside the door, shaking from nervousness or fright. The factory interior was well-lit, revealing rusted factory machinery, several creepy-looking life-sized dolls, and dust almost everywhere. Boxes, broken tiles, and twisted metal formed a maze that Veronica had to navigate to find out who inhabited the “abandoned” factory.

“Welcome,” a voice said. Veronica whirled around to face a strange young man. He was extremely pale and wore a black shirt and denim jeans. “Are you here for the modeling auditions?” Veronica nodded nervously. “Good.” The young man took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt before putting them back on. “I’m taking photographs in the basement. Follow me and I’ll show you where it is.” He walked away. Veronica followed him.

Basement? Why do I get the feeling this will end messily? Veronica thought. She followed the strange young man. Her host paused to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear, then he continued walking to the basement steps. He pushed open the door and walked down the steps. Veronica followed him, startled that the steps weren’t as sturdy as she hoped. The wood creaked under her black boots. She gingerly continued her walk down the steps. Her host flipped on the basement light. When she finally got to the basement, her host was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, where are you?” Veronica called out. Her voice echoed off the vacant walls.

“Looking for me?” a voice said. Veronica’s gaze raked the room, but the person with the voice wasn’t visible at the moment. A table with numerous weapons on it lay against the wall. Next to it was a stone slab fitted with shackles. Oh, no. What is this place?