The Bride of Glass (Glass Vault Book 2) Read online

  Elise tapped the brake to slow the car, and she let out a small sigh because all there was were trees again. She thought maybe this time would be different, but she should have known it wouldn’t be, because strange stone museums don’t appear overnight.

  Then something appeared in her peripheral vision. She slowed to a stop when she noticed stumps from freshly cut trees, and a large stone building that wasn’t there the day before.

  “This isn’t a traveling carnival on wheels,” she said to herself in a state of shock.

  Stepping out of the police car, Elise walked at a fast pace toward the building. She was determined to solve this, and catch whomever was the cause of all these mysterious disappearances. She approached a tall, wooden door, and her hand touched the handle of her gun.

  Quinsey Wolfe’s Glass Vault was displayed across the door like Perrie Madeline had said. Dragging the gun out of her holster, she held it in front of her—loaded and ready.

  Elise reached for the knob and slowly turned the unlocked door, gently swinging it open without making a single sound. Cocking her head to the side, she tried to listen for any noise but was met with silence.

  Stepping inside a long-carpeted hallway, Elise left the door open in case she had to hurry and make an exit. As soon as she was a few feet away from the door, she heard a slam and turned around, observing every aspect of the door, but nothing was there. She ran over to it, twisted the knob and found it locked. She let out a string of silent curses, and went back down the hallway. Elise would figure out what to do about the locked door when she came back.

  Several hallways later, Elise came to a stop in front of a circular room lined with displays along the wall. She walked past the sick displays, silently gagging at what they depicted. She may deal with crime and real-life horrors on a daily basis, but horror movies gave her the real nightmares. They always had.

  When she came to a Jack the Ripper display, it had her nauseated to the core thinking of that sick bastard. Elise’s fingers fumbled as she pulled out her phone from her pocket. She scrolled through the cell to find the police station’s number and was about to hit call, when a violent wind knocked the phone from her hand.

  Her forehead wrinkled in consternation as she looked at her phone on the ground. She lifted her gun in front of her, and swiveled her head from side to side, attempting to locate the source of the wind. Suddenly, another gust of wind slammed into her, and the force of it knocked her to the ground.

  As another big burst of wind pulled her toward the display, she clenched her gun even tighter in her grasp. She may not have known what was going on, but at least she had some protection. Elise flipped over to her stomach and clawed at the ground. She knew it wouldn’t stop anything, but she drove her nails at the floor as hard as she could while still holding the gun. They bit across the floor and made a loud scratching sound.

  One last haul threw her into the display, and she was off the ground in an instant, instinctively lifting her gun to defend herself. Except her gun was no longer in her hand, as if it was never there at all. She let out another string of curses, and was already in a stance she learned in a self-defense class.

  Her mouth fell open when she saw she was on a stone street, in the middle of a darkened alley, surrounded by large buildings. She raised her hand and wiped away the beads of perspiration on her forehead.

  Looking down and releasing a small gasp, Elise became more panicked when she saw she had on a yellow vintage gown of some sort.

  “Hello, Catherine,” a woman’s voice spoke softly next to her, and Elise took a quick step back to look at the person who had whispered.

  The person standing beside her was dressed all in black—cloak, gloves, hat, and all, except for a tiny flash of a strand of red hair that radiated from the lamp post. She was quick, quicker than Elise, and a hot burning pulse ached at her shoulder.

  Elise looked down at her wound. A red gash was forming, dripping warm blood against her brown skin and the yellow of the dress. She thought fast and slammed a punch in the woman’s face. The lady dizzily stepped back but came back swinging with what appeared to be a long butcher knife.

  Elise swung her arm up and over, knocking the knife from the woman’s hand. She punched her in the face again and again, causing her hand to throb, until the woman sank to the ground, knocked out cold.

  Elise didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she picked up the knife and ran. As her heels clacked against the pavement, a light came into sight from a small pub. When she reached the source, she stopped and peered in the window, seeing several people seated inside.

  Elise’s eyes grew wide when she spotted her. Perrie Madeline, seated at a table with a young blond man.

  Leaving the window, she rushed to a door, gripped the handle, but she was yanked back by two strong hands. She lifted her arm to ram her elbow into the woman’s ribs, but it was too late. The sting burned across her throat as heated liquid dribbled out. She struggled for a few moments until the world turned black.

  Catherine stood outside the brothel trying to remember how she got there, but then became distracted when she heard stomping down the street. She could see Mary Kelly with a young blond gentleman who she would like to have to herself. “Hey, Mary,” she called. “How about you lend your gentlemen to me for the night.”

  Chapter 7

  Maisie

  Neven and I sat around for a while trying to concoct a plan of how to get Perrie back. Things wouldn’t be the same without our parents. There would never be fun family nights or Mom’s extreme cooking of more than anyone could eat, but there would still be Perrie.

  The plan is that there’s still no plan. I searched around the barbershop drawers and managed to find a pad of yellow sticky notes and a pen earlier. Not as good as a small spiral pad and pencil, but it’ll work.

  “Do you really need to use the notepad, Mais?” Neven is sitting on the ground directly across from me while I softly tap the side of my head with the end of my pen. He should already know the answer to that question by now.

  “I’m not even going to give you an answer. Are you ready to tell me what happened to you, and how you know August doesn’t exist?” I tried to ask him earlier, but he has been sitting quietly for a while, not sure what he’s thinking about because there’s so much going on.

  “Are you?” Neven’s brown eyes laser in on my face.

  “I never said I wouldn’t tell you. You never asked.” I tap his knee with the end of my pen.

  Groaning, he says, “Well, you first.”

  I suck in a breath of air three times since three seems like the magical number to prepare myself. My dad never understood the point of doing this, but I always just told him because three is my lucky number, and then he would just smile. “When we were in the Glass Vault, you know, frozen as glass?”

  Neven’s eyebrow rises, so I continue.

  “We came to life like zombies, right? But not like the breaking out of the coffin and slowly clawing out of the dirt until you break through the surface kind.” Pausing, I wait for Neven to say something.

  “Do you need to stop every time and wait for me to say something? Just proceed with the story in its entirety. You’re doing masterfully.” He gives me a sarcastic thumbs up.

  “You know, Neven, I’m going to ignore this mood of yours and finish my story.”

  “You do that.” He gives me a real smile then that causes me to reflect the same grin on my face.

  Scratching my head with the pen, I remember where I needed to pick up. “Anyway, when we turned into flesh and began walking out of the museum, and Crazy Maisie started attacking people—”

  Neven lifts a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. You have a name for your alter?”

  Why wouldn’t I have a name for her? “Yes, don’t you?”

  He squints his brown eyes and thinks about it for a moment. “No, because it’s still me.”

  “Well no, it isn’t. It’s you but some of your emotions are s
hut off, so it’s a new you. But anyway, back to what I was saying before being interrupted. After several days of mass destruction, I was able to escape her claws. When all my memories came rushing back, I gained Perrie’s final moments with August AKA Vale.” I look at Neven with pity, and he spots it right away.

  He runs a tan scarred hand across his forehead and through his dark hair before looking back at me. “So, you saw me in the cage with her?”

  Nodding my head, I don’t move my eye from his.

  He moves his away first. “I couldn’t do anything. I was chained to that damn wall. Before that, August revealed to me his plan and plot as he broke me apart. I don’t know why he told me all of it, except for the fact I think he knew how much I cared about Perrie and how much it would hurt.”

  He tells me about how Vale is a demon, and how he plotted to make certain bodies immortal to help him become stronger.

  Closing my eye, I try not to let any of it affect me because life is easier that way. It’s easier to think it all happens for a reason no matter how crappy.

  Neven’s hand comes into contact with my cheek, and I don’t open my eye. His other hand slides up the side of my other cheek. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but then he reaches for the eyepatch.

  “Don’t,” I scream and yank my face out of his hand, immediately turning away from him. I’m not sure why I don’t want him to see my missing eye. It isn’t as if he’s used to seeing that eye anyway.

  “Jesus, Maisie. I just wanted you to look at me with both of your eyes for a minute. I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

  Is that what he thinks I’m afraid of? Adjusting the patch, I make sure it’s in proper place before turning back around to face him. “That’s not it, Neven.”

  “Then what is it?” He scoots closer to me.

  “My eye is gone.”

  “What?” His brows furrow together in confusion.

  “I said, my eye is gone. Like it was apparently plucked out by dwarves.”

  A surprised expression crosses his face, and he looks angry at the same time. An interesting mix of anger and shock.

  “Before you grow too mad, when I got sucked into my display, the eyeball was already missing. I did, however, inherit some memories of Crazy Maisie.”

  “What do you mean your eye is gone?” His mouth hangs open, and his eyes are zoomed in on the patch.

  I’ve got to be honest with myself, those memories are pretty insane, so I have to sweep those little terrors under the rug.

  I remember back to the time when Perrie, August, and I reached the barrier to exit the display. I already knew I wouldn’t be able to make it to the next display, no matter how hard Perrie wished for me to be able to escape with her.

  When they were sucked through, I darted away from the Huntsman—his hair all flowing in the wind like there was a fan right there blowing at it. It’s weird I would think of flying hair in that moment when I looked at him, but then his hand came down with a dagger to my chest, and I woke up in the cottage with that bloody animal skin back in my lap.

  The bright side to this is the Huntsman hasn’t been trying to hunt me down since we exited the Glass Vault. I slide that memory under the rug, too.

  “Well, I mean my eye is gone, Neven. Like, there isn’t one to display for you inside my eye socket.”

  He leans forward and reaches out to grab the patch again, and I move my head out of his reach. “Stop, Neven!”

  “Let me see it, all right. It can’t be any worse than me. I have scars all over my entire body.”

  “They make you look rugged.” I look at his scars, visible on his arms, hands, face, and neck, and they aren’t bad. They’re slightly raised and pinkish but spaced a good distance apart. He doesn’t have any bolts on the sides of his neck, but there are two small circular scars where I suppose they once may or may not have been.

  “Did you just call scars all over my body rugged?”

  I lift my chin in defiance. “I did. They look good on you.” Flaws are my favorite things about people.

  “Then show me your eye,” he demands.

  Thinking about it for a moment, I figure it wouldn’t be fair for me to not show him mine since I saw his. Slowly, I lift the blue eyepatch and set it in my lap, facing Neven head on.

  It takes a few seconds before he speaks, probably hiding his disgust. “You look daring.” He smiles.

  Smiling back, I set the eyepatch back over my missing eye, feeling better for showing him.

  We sit in silence for a long time before we get back to thinking about how to find Perrie. The plan strikes me finally. “I have a plan.”

  “Is it a good one?” He looks hesitant.

  I cock my head to the side. “I think so. We’re going to stand up, open the door, walk out, and start searching.”

  Neven blinks several times with his lips pursed. “That’s the plan?”

  “Do you have a better one?” I counter, both eyebrows lifted and staring him down.

  Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head. “No.”

  Standing, I reach my hand toward his to help him up. Neven gives me a half smile before clasping his hand with mine, and it’s mostly him pushing his tall body off the floor than me doing the work.

  Spotting the small over the shoulder purse I found earlier, I pick it up and empty its contents on a chair in case maybe the owner will come back for them. Most likely that won’t be occurring, but I take the top sticky note and scrawl a short note saying sorry I had to borrow his or her purse and paste the yellow sheet directly next to a small wallet.

  Neven gives me another eye roll, which must be his main habit of the day—even more than usual. I walk to the drawer where I found the sticky notes earlier and pull out two candy bars. Tossing one to Neven, I watch him catch it easily with one hand. I’m impressed.

  “You know we don’t have to eat, right?” Neven asks as he unwraps the chocolate bar.

  I figured out the first day I never got hungry, but I still delight in eating what I can find. The taste buds are still there. “We have to have some pleasure in immortal life—chocolate is the answer.”

  I unwrap my bar and practically stuff it in my mouth as I follow Neven out of the barbershop. We are only a few feet away from the glass door when a body collides with mine. Candy bar goes flying, and my body crashes to the ground as my head strikes concrete.

  For an instant, I think I’m dead and blood might be pouring out of my skull—a heaviness is strapping me down to the ground.

  The weight is lifted, and I hear a loud smack from somewhere. Neven kneels beside me, lifting my head off the ground.

  “Are you all right? Please tell me you are,” he pleads.

  I guess he forgot we can’t die. “Immortal, remember? Where’s my candy bar?” He laughs as I sit up, find my candy bar, and brush the dirt off.

  When I look up, Neven now has a guy with white hair backed against the wall, lifted so his toes are dangling off the ground. I watch Neven demand answers while I finish my chocolate.

  “I’m not like them,” the guy cries.

  He’s an immortal, but he’s right, he isn’t lost in la la land. “Neven, quit acting like a beast and set the poor guy down.”

  Neven lowers him to the ground, and the guy’s pale skin is flushed.

  Staring at him for a moment, I lift my index finger in the air, ticking it back and forth. “I know you! Ben Johnston!” I must seem like a star struck fan because he backs up all the way into the wall for safety.

  “You know, I had my own plan prepared to search for you before I went missing myself,” I say.

  No one says anything. They just stare at me, so I ask Ben, “How and when did you come back to yourself?”

  Ben doesn’t look quite as scared, but I think he may bolt soon. “I don’t know how. It was only a few minutes ago—before I took off running. I had been feeling more and more myself as the days went by until the memories hit me all at once.”

  I wonder why that is. Why we are
n’t getting all our memories back at the same time or not at all. Nothing seems to be easy to figure out. If only Perrie were here, I’m sure we’d be able to draw some conclusion together like we always do, whether it’s games or real-life situations.

  “Do you want to come with us? We’re going to go save Perrie.” I think three would be a lot better than two, but going up against Vale will be a hard task.

  “Seeing as though I have no idea who Perrie is, I’m going to have to head in a different direction.” He looks genuinely sorry about it.

  “She’s the Bride of Frankenstein. Well, really it would be the Bride of Vale.” Not that they are married, so I don’t know why she’s referred to as the Bride.

  Horror crosses Ben’s face, and maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that part. “Look, I would, but I’m going to stay on a path away from Vale, and if you see the red-head named Fannie, watch out for her, too.”

  We let Ben run off. Hopefully, he doesn’t meet anyone dangerous wherever he decides to flee to, but that isn’t the outcome that’s plotted out for us.

  I look toward Neven’s worried face. “Let’s find Perrie.”

  Chapter 8

  Before—Ben Johnston

  Today was an excellent day for Ben Johnston to take photographs. The sun was mostly hidden, but Ben brought his handy sunscreen to reapply after an hour of trampling through the wooded area of Oak Street.

  Ben unzipped the fluorescent orange fanny pack at his side and pulled out the pink bottle. He fired open the spray and let the beads strike against his exposed arms and legs then set it back in his pack. Then he pulled out a stick of sunscreen he generously re-applied across his face.

  Sometimes the sunscreen felt more like an addiction than a necessity, but with having such pale skin from his albinism, he needed to keep the rays out.

  Ben placed the stick back in his fanny pack, zipping it up with one quick pull. He ran a hand through his white hair before lifting his camera around his neck. A twisted tree branch was calling his name, and he clicked the button.