Vault of Glass

  VAULT OF GLASS

  CANDACE ROBINSON

  Copyright ©2022 by Candace Robinson

  Cover Design by RFK Cover Design

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book may not be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  For Nate and Arwen,

  We make up the ultimate Three Musketeers

  Prologue

  Overwhelmed with boredom, Vale stared down at his fingernails. He could only spend so much time tormenting those he encountered in the afterlife. When his work was complete in making them as miserable as possible, he found himself needing to search for new prey.

  The fire beside him flickered and gave off a comforting heat. To Vale, it felt like a warm blanket against his cool skin. He hummed a melody to himself as the fire crackled, accompanied by a chorus of screams that continued to grow more intensely.

  Vale should have felt something, yet he was incapable of compassion. It made his torture of others necessary, and with no complete spectrum of true emotion, their agony provided him with a sick sort of pleasure. It was the only real feeling he had ever truly known.

  He picked at his nails a little longer with a sharp instrument until they were back to their pristine condition. The one thing he couldn’t tolerate was the filth and grime that built up under his nails. One might consider this an oddity. After all, his experiments usually ended up being the cause of his distress.

  Studying his nails one more time, Vale set the tool down next to a row full of other torturous devices—giving him another thrill. When so many of his experiments resulted in such beautiful messes, he could forgive himself the lapse in hygiene.

  Rows of cages filled with useless souls lined the walls of his domain. They would help him to crush the mortal lives he needed to flood the earth. After the time he had spent in his dark place, he grew tired of tormenting the ones who “deserved” it—he wanted them all.

  The time had finally come to bring down humanity—he wished it could be as simple as a snap of his fingers. Vale didn’t like to do things the easy way, though. No, he liked to do things the way that brought him the most pleasure. This time he was going to be known as Quinsey Wolfe. This time he would make sure the world ended in flames while orchestrating its demise and rebirth. There must be a space between his underworld and the human world, where the new souls could become immortal with real power. It would take time, but he would build this place. Then, he could discover the ones he truly wanted. Hearts would surrender, souls would suffer, and at the end of it all—he would watch it burn. From the ashes of its undoing, Vale would recreate it all in his image.

  Chapter 1

  The mirror was a foggy mess as Perrie stepped out of her, literally, five-minute shower. She’d let her damn alarm continue to go off when she should’ve woken up right away, so that meant less shower time. With hurried motions, she drew a flower—a weepy-looking daisy, to be exact—on the glass.

  Perrie’s mom used to do this together with her when she was younger. It was before her mom ran off several years ago with another man, to another state, and never spoke to Perrie’s dad or her again. For some strange reason Perrie upheld this so-called mirror-drawing tradition of theirs—possibly to remember something that used to be different.

  The one thing her mom left her was her maiden name as Perrie’s first name, yet it defeated the whole purpose since she spelled Perrie with an “ie” instead of a “y.” Perrie preferred the spelling how it was, that way she was connected to her mom as little as possible.

  “Dad!” Perrie yelled.

  After throwing on a pair of jeans and an old Queen band tee, Perrie rushed down the hallway. Sometimes she could catch him before he left for work, but he was already gone.

  In the center of the table rested a red velvet cupcake and a note beside it. Have a good day at school! Happy Eighteenth Birthday! A grin spread across her face.

  Since Perrie’s mom left, she’d told herself over and over not to care, but she knew her dad still did. There was a picture of them together on his bedside table from when they were maybe sixteen and high school sweethearts. Her mom was looking off to the side laughing, genuinely amused, while her dad was staring at her with such an expression of love and admiration. It used to make Perrie’s heart skip, but not anymore.

  Perrie knew what that kind of love felt like, and she’d missed it for the past six months. She tossed those feelings of that particular guy into her personal, little trashcan inside her head—almost completely hidden away.

  Grabbing a small bowl for her breakfast from the cabinet, she padded over to the pantry where there were at least ten varieties of cereal to choose from. Her dad couldn’t get over her cereal-stocking obsession. But she couldn’t control how the different sugary shapes on the covers called to her. What else can I say?

  Biting her lip, she decided to go for the bag containing only colorful marshmallows—no healthiness included.

  As she reached for the cereal, feeling like Willy Wonka, a sudden poke came at her shoulder. Releasing a squeak, she flailed in her panic, effectively sweeping her bowl off the countertop. Then she thanked all the fish in the sea that it was plastic as it hit the floor with a thump-thump.

  Perrie’s back smacked hard against the granite countertop when she flipped around to face the intruder. Maisie, her best friend and cousin, stood a few feet away, smirking. Perrie rolled her eyes. Maisie just loved to scare the living daylights out of her when Perrie least anticipated these situations. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before. Odds were, she should’ve expected this. Maisie lived next door and they’d been playing at carpool for as long as Perrie could remember.

  Maisie grinned from ear to ear while Perrie rubbed her stinging arm. Her cousin’s one, bright-blue eye twinkled with mischievous intent. The other eye, which Perrie was sure contained a twin expression, was safely hidden behind an eye patch. Maisie usually pulled her long black hair away from her face to highlight that one accessory, but her locks relaxed around her warm brown skin today.

  When Perrie’s mom left, Aunt Krista offered up the house she owned next door. The tenants had recently moved out, so she’d asked her brother—Perrie’s dad—if he wanted to rent the place. Ever since then, Aunt Krista had been more of a mom to Perrie than her birth mother ever was.

  “One day, you’ll have it coming, Maisie Jaser.” Perrie cocked her head and fought a smile. Despite being an adult now, she was still determined to best her cousin at least once in her life. “I do have a key to your house, you know.”

  “You’ve been saying this pretty much forever, and I’m still waiting,” Maisie said while laughing. She brushed a hand against her latest hot pink eye patch, where yellow stars and a moon were sewn onto its diam
ond shape.

  Perrie motioned at the newest addition to Maisie’s two-year-long parade of endless eye patches. “What’s going on with this one?”

  Maisie scrunched up her nose as if she was thinking incredibly hard about this. “So, I was in the mood for a night sky, but I wanted the sky to be pink because black is, well, you know?”

  Perrie arched a brow. “Well, no, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, you know.” Maisie shrugged. “It’s just such a dark color sometimes.”

  “You also realize you’re still not blind, right?”

  Her smile grew even wider. “I know, but I have to show support to those who only have the one eye.” She pointed her index finger at the patch like she was actually missing the damn eye.

  Ever since she started reading books about characters who wear eye patches, Maisie had been on this kick. She even started an online store where she’d sold quite a few. Perrie wasn’t sure if these people legitimately needed an eye patch, or if they were using them for costumes, but either way, the accessories could make any outfit stand out.

  If Perrie needed a patch, she would wear the shit out of the ones Maisie created. She still didn’t get why Maisie wore an eye patch all the time, but whatever—it was her quirk.

  “You keep showing that support.” Picking up the bowl from the floor, Perrie tossed it in the sink. There wasn’t time left to eat cereal, so she grabbed two granola bars out of the pantry and threw one baseball style to Maisie, who easily caught it. Perrie had to admit, her cousin still had remarkable reflexes with only one eye.

  At the table, a small green box sitting beside the salt and pepper shakers drew Perrie’s attention. Maisie must’ve set it there before sneaking up on her.

  “What’s in the box?” As Perrie started toward the table, Maisie flung past her to the gift and lifted it.

  “Happy Birthday!” she yelled, thrusting the gift at her.

  Perrie plucked it up just before Maisie whipped out a tiny yellow noisemaker from her pocket and blew loudly. The screeching sound caused Perrie to grit her teeth, while Maisie was panting as if she’d run a marathon. Perrie didn’t receive a lot of gifts for her birthday, so she always anticipated Maisie’s, even if they could be on the strange side.

  “Is it another wood chip creation like the lion you made me that one year?” Perrie asked. Several years back, Maisie’s parents were going to clear out their flower beds and replace the old with rubber mulch. Maisie objected and found a way to repurpose the mulch for her crafts. The one she’d made for Perrie looked just like a lion and still sat on her bookshelf.

  “No, my parents are still all about the rubber mulch.”

  “Too bad,” Perrie said as she inspected the dark green box, wrapped in a delicate, yet vivid green bow of a different hue. She peeled it open slowly, first removing the ribbon then the lid.

  Tucked inside was a banana-yellow eye patch. Upon closer examination, there was an image of a roaring lion on the front. She could tell Maisie had stitched it herself using fur-like pieces surrounding the outer edges to create its mane. It was beautiful, and Maisie knew how Perrie had a slight decorating obsession with the fierce beasts.

  Gently, she set the patch aside and pulled another gift from the box. It was another lion, though this one smaller. This lion was crafted with twigs, then hand-painted with a miraculous amount of detail, and washed in bright greens, hot pinks, and brilliant blues. Perrie didn’t know how Maisie had managed to blend the colors together so artfully.

  She envied those skills.

  Tears gathered on her lashes, knowing how much time and effort Maisie had put into these gifts for her. Perrie tugged her into an awkward but perfect hug. “Thanks so much. These gifts are everything.”

  Maisie leaned back and locked her gaze with Perrie, her expression serious. “Are you going to wear the patch now?”

  Snorting, Perrie shook her head. “No, but you know what? I’ll wear it tonight, just for you.”

  Suddenly remembering the time, Perrie booked it for her room and shoved a pair of black boots on. She took one last look at herself in the mirror hanging on the back of her door, before pulling her brown hair into a low ponytail. She didn’t have time to do anything exciting with it, and it wasn’t like she would anyway—that would take effort. Besides appearing a little tired, her chestnut-colored eyes were a little lighter this morning. It’s a step up from a zombie, so it works.

  “Perrie! Hurry the heck up!” Maisie shouted.

  Blowing out a breath, she grabbed her backpack and coveted cello from the floor beside her desk chair. With the combination of a heavy backpack and even heavier cello case, she was guaranteed to have a bad back by the time she reached twenty. A practical person would have dropped the cello, but not her. She’d been obsessively playing the instrument since sixth grade. After her mom left, playing music was her escape, her healing process.

  “Come on, Perrie. We need to get going.” Maisie was already standing on the porch, holding the door wide open when Perrie came bounding out down the hall.

  They piled into Maisie’s car, and Perrie relaxed in the seat, munching on the granola bar. Maisie finished chewing hers and ditched the granola wrapper, while Perrie had barely taken one full bite. With that kind of speed, she bet her cousin could win an eating contest ... if she didn’t choke first.

  “So, did you hear there’s another person missing?” Maisie asked as she turned down the next road.

  Perrie’s lips parted as she met her stare. “No. Is it someone we know?”

  “No. I don’t think so. His name’s Ben Johnston. He’s a twenty-three-year-old from the University,” Maisie answered while chewing on her left thumbnail, flipping her gaze back to the odometer to check her speed.

  There were two major things Perrie knew about Maisie, one being that she absolutely had to go the exact speed limit. It didn’t matter where she was, she kept to one speed at a time. Second, she had the habit of chewing on her nail when there was a riddle she needed to figure out, or a puzzle she wanted to slide the last piece into.

  Leaning her arm against the car door, Perrie rested her chin on her hand. She scanned through the people she knew from memory to see if she recognized the name from anywhere. It wasn’t a long list of names either. “Yeah, I don’t recognize the name, but I don’t remember many people who graduated before us besides the ones I was in Orchestra with.”

  Lately, strange things had been happening in her neck of the woods. Not that Deer Park had many wooded areas... But a few months ago, there had been an increase in disappearances in the city, and even more so over the last few weeks. Ben Johnston was another name and face to add to that list. The local police department had been investigating, but they claimed there was no clear answer. No predictable method or motivation, and the victims’ ages and genders all varied. Thankfully though, no one she knew personally had gone missing, so it just made it seem less real.

  Despite her own calm, her dad, on the other hand, was a worried mess. Perrie’s midnight curfew, as well as Maisie’s, had been cut back. It wasn’t like they had anything to do to stay out that late for anyway, but it was still a blow to their potential social lives. The last time she’d stayed out late was a month ago when her dad and Aunt Krista extended their curfew for prom.

  Perrie hadn’t been in the mood to go to the dance at first, but Maisie bugged her about it endlessly. Even with offers from a couple of guys and girls, Maisie politely shot them down and convinced Perrie to go with her instead.

  Maisie rubbed at her chin, and Perrie could sense her detective skills itching to come out. Hell, mine are, too.

  “Maybe we could question friends or family who know these missing people?” Maisie asked. “Nothing is getting done here.”

  “I’m not sure that would go over well, even if you did have a badge. One day you’ll have plenty of time to solve any crime you want.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” Maisie pulled into the parking lot of the school,
managing to find a good spot right away.

  Maisie sighed, and Perrie could tell she was still thinking about the missing people. Her cousin had once told her she wanted to pursue a career in fashion design when college started, but these days she seemed to be leaning more toward lead detective.

  Perrie was an official adult according to “society,” but it didn’t feel like much had changed. That was probably because high school still had a few weeks left and she didn’t have a good job. Hell, she couldn’t even find a part-time job. But she was also still figuring out what college classes to take in the fall, as well as what career she wanted. Apparently, the college she’d been looking at didn’t offer miming as a major, which she would be all over. She’d even find it useful wearing one of Maisie’s patches while working her hands across an imaginary wall. But seriously, the only thing she had at the moment was an orchestra scholarship.

  I have the rest of my life to figure things out though, right?

  Chapter 2

  Opening the car door, Perrie threw her heavy backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her cello out of the trunk. A wave of mixed emotions flew through her, and she just knew it wasn’t going to be a shit day.

  As they headed toward the school, with her hands thrashing all over the place, Maisie asked, “Are we going to the horror film festival? It’s next month!”

  “Hell yeah, I’m all over it. I think the guy who plays Pinhead is supposed to be one of the guests there. If only some of the classic horror greats were still alive.”

  Maisie’s hands continued to thrash ridiculously. “I know, right? Boris Karloff is practically my baby.”

  Vincent Price would be Perrie’s.

  When they finally breezed into the school, Perrie made the mistake of turning her head away from Maisie. Her smile and laughter vanished. The first bell hadn’t even rang yet and she already spotted the jerk.

  Neven Lee. Formerly known as “Nev.” Once her Nev. Then he’d ripped her heart into a thousand tiny pieces, cutting those little morsels even smaller before lighting them all on fire—until they were nothing but ashes.