Kapitel 6: Chapter 6: Swallowed Whole

The heavy front door swung shut behind Alice and the cool damp of the dark house swallowed her whole. It felt good to just stand there, her back to the warped wood, eyes closed in the dim quiet, her nose full of the scent of old dust and mildew. She felt a jolt, for a moment, a flash of something driving her forward, eyes wide openÑ

An instant so clear it felt like a memory, of walking through the front door into the splendor of Blunt House, bright and polished, to the worried face of a tiny black woman. Only she was positive she'd never been in the house before, let alone when it was shiny and newÑ

Alice shook off the feeling, the hum of the old place, and made her way to the kitchen, backpack trailing along behind her. The moment of peace she'd felt when she arrived home was gone, the spark of energy burned up, leaving her listless again. Empty.

Betty stood in the kitchen, making coffee. The aroma clashed with the ancient smells of the house. Alice wrinkled her nose against it and swung her pack forward, dropping it with a dull thud on one of the stools surrounding the island.

Her mother spun, finger to her lips, headset on. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Palmer. I can take care of that for you right now." Steam folded over the sides of her dark brown mug as she filled it with fresh coffee. "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

Betty made a face at Alice on the way by, still talking to the troublesome client on the other end of the line, brushing past her daughter, the fragrance of the coffee following her out the kitchen door.

Alice looked around, unable to muster much enthusiasm for anything despite the fact her stomach rumbled. She'd only had oatmeal to keep her going since she threw up her lunch. Rather than do anything about it, she retreated to the front room and her cot.

Stretching out fully before turning on her side, she pulled her knees close to her chest, hugging them to her. Alice squeezed her eyes shut and shrank smaller and smaller. It was an old game, if it could be called that, one she'd played for years. She knew it was crazy,but part of her felt certain if she just made herself small enough, she would disappear entirely.

After another failed attempt, Alice sighed and let go, feeling the blood rush back into her arms and legs. She briefly considered talking to her mother about her day, but tossed that idea almost immediately. Since when had Betty cared, or been able to do anything about it? The few times Alice said something, Betty only made it worse. Going to her school to complain about bullies didn't solve anything.

Besides, she could still hear her mom talking and knew Betty would be working for a while yet. She was lucky her job as an agent for an insurance company could be done online. In fact, Betty was lucky she had a job at all. Lots of people didn't. Alice's one moment of pure vengeful joy came last year when her main tormenter, Billy Trimble, was forced to drop out because his parents were both laid off and they had to move away.

Alice slid one hand under her pillow to support her cheek and sighed. As much as she loved her new house, as much as it already felt like home even full of junk and mold, she still missed Denver. At least there, she knew where she stood in the pecking order. And with Billy gone, the bullying dropped to an almost ignorable level.

The last thing she wanted was to have to start all over again.

Alice's hand slid deeper and encountered something coarse. She jerked her fingers back just as a pale form slid free from the pillow and landed on the floor with a soft thud. She peered over the edge of the cot and felt a surge of protectiveness take over. Her hand shot out and retrieved the doll. Alice set it gently on the pillow beside her and patted its little cheek with her fingertips.

"Sorry about that," she whispered. "I forgot you were there."

The doll didn't seem offended. Alice sat up with the doll. "I've seen something like you before," she said to it. "I'm pretty sure." She bent and retrieved her backpack, pulling out her netbook. It was small and slow, kind of beat up, one of Evan's rejects when Betty bought him a new tablet, state of the art and top of the line. The battery didn't hold much of a charge anymore, but it was hers and it had wireless. Alice set the doll next to her and opened a search window.Within two or three seconds she had the answers she was looking for. A voodoo doll.

She did some reading on a few spooky sites while eerie music drifted from her tinny speakers. Alice reached for the doll again and took a good look.

One of the legs had the rust spot still. From the pin. Alice rubbed at it. "I don't think that pin was supposed to be in there for so long, huh?" She glanced down at her screen and felt her heart start to race. According to the website, the doll had a purpose. And so did the pins.

Alice felt around under the cot and found the box at last, shoved up against one of her shoes. She fumbled the cover open and looked inside. Six beautiful pins winked back at her. Alice retrieved one, held it in her fingertips. Sparkling clean, not a spot of rust on it, the shining pearl top iridescent in the low light coming through the shutters. The sun had emerged again.

Alice reread the passage.

"Voodoo dolls, though considered gris-gris and not true to the Haitian faith, are common in New Orleans practice. Practitioners create a doll for one of two reasons: either in the image of someone they want to protect, or in the likeness of an enemy. The pins are used to stir magical energy. For a positive doll, such energy is helpful, providing healing. But in a doll meant for one's enemy, the pins are used to inflict punishment on the subject."

Alice read on. Just a simple jab was all it took, according to the blogger. Alice set her netbook aside and held the pin in her suddenly trembling fingers. She had no idea which category this doll fell into, or if it was even a real voodoo doll. She could use some healing for her poor heart. But if it was the other kind, she didn't want to hurt anyone.

So why was she holding the pin over the doll like that?

Her mind immediately went to Claire. Well, maybe she did want to hurt someone.

Just a little. Alice felt a great warmth spreading in her lap where the doll lay, a welcoming and delicious heat traveling all the way up her arm and to her hand, into her fingers to the pin.

One poke. That would be all. Just a quick jab to show Claire a thing or two. So easy, and no one would ever know. Alice had a moment of disbelief cementing her intent.

After all, it wasn't like anything about the voodoo doll was real. Claire wouldn't really beharmed. Besides, considering the age of the doll, there was no way it was made in her likeness anyway.

Alice hesitated another second before feeling the heat rise, making her smile. What could it hurt, really? And driving pins into the doll would certainly make Alice feel better. She saw her cousin's face solidify in her mind, the epitome of everything Alice hated and loathed and wished would just go away and leave her alone.

"Claire," she whispered. The doll's mismatched button eyes seemed to smile back at Alice, inviting the jab of the pin deep in its heart.

Alice's hand fell slowly, hovered over the center of the doll's chest. Yes. Perfect. One little pin.

"Alice!" Betty's voice ruined everything. Alice slid the doll behind her back just as her mother poked her head in the room. Betty looked frazzled, cheeks red, hair askew, but she always did when she was working. "There you are. Can you start supper, please? I have a few more calls to take."

Betty disappeared again. Alice brought the doll back to her lap, but the moment passed. It seemed so silly to her, now. Alice shook her head a little as she nestled the doll back into the box, laying the pin beside it before sliding the lid shut and going to start dinner.

***

Its disappointment is an almost tangible thing. Its mistress was so close, and It craves doing her bidding. The evil one deserves punishment, it is clear. It will encourage the mistress to continue the act, to complete it, and have her revenge.

For now, It will continue to wait, to be faithful, until the mistress is ready. It loves her with all the essence It had been gifted so many years ago, the focus of Its tiny heart locked in time and place with the mistress. When the moment is right, she, the mistress, will know of Its love and adoration, and she will finally allow It to fulfill their combined destiny.

And then It will strike and no one who hurt the mistress will be safe from Its wrath.

***

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