Suddenly, I felt the same thing you must have felt and was sucked in here and spit out in the woods outside this cottage.”
“Is that all you remember?”
I’ve never seen Maisie look so disturbed and worried. “I remember more, but a lot of it is a blur. When I got here, my clothing was gone, and I was wearing this.” She grabs the skirt of her dress and cringes at the red still covering it.
I don’t want to ask her, but I have to. “What about your eye? Did those men really rip it out?”
“I remember everything from you coming into this house, but it’s as if the person that was speaking to you wasn’t me, but it was me at the same time.” She shakes her head. “I know this isn’t adding up.”
“Whatever you say, I’m going to believe. August and I have seen some seriously messed up things.”
“Okay, so the odd thing is I was already missing my eye when I got here. I couldn’t tell at first since the patch was covering my eye. When I saw that I wasn’t at the museum anymore, I took off the patch to get a clearer view of my surroundings. That is when I discovered that my eye was gone.”
She runs her hand over the patch and stays silent for a few moments. I have never seen her like this. “So, it must be part of this display and kind of like these costumes we have on. When we get out of here that eye will be back, Maisie.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m used to just using one eye anyway.”
I’m sure Maisie is the only person on the entire planet that wouldn’t be freaking out just a little bit that her eye is missing out of the socket. I would be going crazy.
“What about the dwarves? They didn’t attack you?”
“No. I came to the cottage as soon as I saw it. The men were already dead, their ears, eyes, and tongues were already missing, and in that bucket over there.” She tilts her head in the direction of the bucket.
“I didn’t see this display,” I begin. “You said that Snow White was hovering over the dwarves with a knife. This earlier version of you that was here before you came back to the surface said that she did all this to the dwarves after they ripped her eye out. This could be the story of this display that has already happened, and you coming here is the continuation of the story.”
“That does sound plausible. By the way, I like how you said she instead of you.” Maisie gives me a small tilt of her lips.
“You may remember all the crazy stuff that this person said, but that wasn’t you talking. Quirky and crazy is not the same thing.”
“Why thank you, Perrie, I’m glad to know that you enjoy my presence,” she smiles a genuine Maisie smile.
I laugh. “You’re one of a kind. What else happened after you came into the cottage, or have you just been here the entire time?”
She bites her thumbnail and begins chewing on it. “There is something else, and it’s too much of a blur. I remember having a brief meltdown after finding the dead bodies and the animal carcasses in the corner with the pail of body memorabilia beside them. It had me panicked, and I ran out of the house. Outside, I cried and screamed, and I felt so alone.”
My stomach drops, and I feel terrible for her. When I came through the first display, I was with August. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been alone. Even when I was alone with that Thomas creep, it didn’t seem as awful since I already sort of had an idea of what was going on here after Sleepy Hollow. Maisie had gone to the Glass Museum by herself, got sucked in by herself, found all these dead bodies by herself, and she is missing an entire eyeball.
“After I cried for a little bit, I didn’t want to go back to the cottage, so I tried walking through the woods away from the house. I remember seeing a man.”
“What man?” I ask.
“I have no idea. He had dark, brown hair that fell to his shoulders. That is all I can remember. Then somehow I ended up back at the cottage.”
I think back to the size of the trolls. “Was this guy massive or normal size?”
“Define normal size?” Maisie asks, squinting her one eye.
“Not a giant who can lift you up in one hand, right?” I hold my hand out and tap it with the index finger of my other hand.
“I’m going to go with smaller than a giant, but all I can remember is a well-structured face and hair blowing around.”
“From your detailed account, there’s a model running around somewhere in the woods.”
“That would be a strong possibility.”
Maisie and I discuss for a few more minutes what we are going to do, and the first thing is to search the bedroom to see if there is any other clothing.
Besides the open living room with the seven beds, there is one other small room in the house. It contains a single, small bed and a mirror above a small, four-drawer dresser.
The bottom drawer has a row of small, black, flat shoes that all look the same. Maisie pulls out a pair and slips a set on her bare, tanned feet, and they fit perfectly. In the second drawer, there is a row of undergarments that are the same style and same color.
When she gets to the third drawer, there are at least six dresses that are the same color blue and style that she is currently wearing. “Not much variety here,” she says and quickly yanks a dress out. The last drawer she slides open has a mixture of blue headbands and blue eye patches that are all the same. “All right then.” She closes the drawer without grabbing anything from there.
I help Maisie loosen the back of her dress that is tied in a knot. She hurries and throws off the bloodied dress and puts on the new one. I help her tie it up in the back.
“I feel a little cleaner. Let’s find our way out of here,” Maisie says.
Before we leave, I stop and ask, “From what you can remember, you haven’t seen anyone else besides that man outside? You haven’t seen any of the others that were missing or Neven? August didn’t come in here?”
She shakes her head solemnly. “No, not from what I can remember. You’re the only alive person I can remember inside here.”
It sort of makes sense. I have only seen one missing person in each of the displays. This is not including August or me, though. August may be somewhere else here and just didn’t stop at the cottage.
Before we leave, we search the house for something to use as a weapon. We are able to find a bloodied knife. Maisie picks it up and wipes it off on a part of the sheet that is hanging off one of the seven beds. She places the knife in the back of her dress where I tied it in a knotted bow. When we find pickaxes in a corner in the small kitchen, we settle on bringing those with us. Maisie and I don’t look back, and we walk out of the house with the pickaxes in our hands. When we’re outside of the house, I point in the direction of where the barrier should be.
I explain to her and show her how the barrier is a rectangular prism. “Is that where you came through?” I point to the area I fell in.
Maisie nods her head. “Yes, so we did come in at the same section.”
I tell her that when I tried to climb the tree, I discovered there was a barrier located above us. If for some reason we needed to escape something out here in this forest, we would have to have a different plan.
We trudge through the trees, and the sky is overcast in gray. Animals dart all around us, making rustling sounds in all directions.
“It’s like we are at a zoo with all the different animals we’re seeing. Minus the whole locked up in cages thing,” Maisie says with astonishment. Maisie has been against zoos since she was small. She would always sit around and watch the nature animal shows on television and see the animals running around out in the open.
Aunt Krista took us to the zoo when we were around nine years old, and Maisie would not have it when she saw all the animals. When we came to the bald eagle that was in a smaller area than an armadillo had, her little nine-year-old self almost blew a fuse.
When we got home that day, she started a petition and had everyone in the neighborhood sign it. I went along with her, but I didn’t have as much passion
at the time as she did. I was just happy to get a chance to see all the animals that I didn’t get to see on a daily basis.
Maisie gave her list to Aunt Krista to turn into at the zoo, and she had maybe fifty signatures. She was quite proud of herself, and I even thought that it was amazing to have fifty. Of course, when you are children any number over ten would have been amazing.
Aunt Krista turned the list in at the zoo for us when we went back with her. The bald eagle remains inside of the same small cage, and all we got from the zoo were a sucker and a sticker.
Maisie hasn’t been back since, and I went a few other times with my dad. She must have had an impact on me though, because I can’t look at the zoo the same way anymore.
“The animals really are amazing,” I say.
A rustling noise interrupts our animal gazing. “What is that?” Maisie looks in the direction of the rustling.
There is a grunting sound that has to be human. “It sounds like a person trying to get our attention.”
Maisie and I look at each other and pull our pickaxes up over our shoulders and go in the direction of the sound. The grunting continues and starts to get louder as we near.
A large pink flowering bush is blocking whatever is behind it, so I use my weapon to pull the branches back.
There’s a face I recognize. “August!” I shout.
Chapter 24
August recognizes me immediately and is trying to say something. He is unable to talk with the black cloth that is in his mouth; it wraps around to the back of his head.
I reach forward and tug it out from his mouth and pull it down, until it rests around his neck. His breaths are rapid. “Hurry and untie me. We have to get out of here before the guy comes back.”
“The guy with the long hair?” Maisie asks.
“Maisie?” August finally notices that it’s Maisie standing next to me.
“I know you are always too busy looking at Perrie, but come on, August, you had to have noticed the eye patch.” She laughs and points.
He ignores her statement. “Seriously, help me get untied. We have to go, and to answer your previous question, yes, he has long hair. He kept asking me about Snow. At first, I thought he was wondering about the white stuff that falls out of the sky, but then he kept asking me where the girl is.”
I look over at Maisie, and her eye widens. He is looking for her because she is Snow White. The two men that come to mind that would be looking for Snow White is either the Huntsman or the Prince. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that there isn’t any prince out here.
I pull the knife tucked into Maisie’s back and go around to August’s hands. I start cutting the rope that bounds them around the tree. “How exactly did this happen? Did you fall through over there?” I point in the direction that Maisie and I came in at.
He shakes his head. “No, I fell through just a little over there.” He nods to his left.
“So, you didn’t see a cottage?”
“No, as soon as I came through, I was knocked down from behind by this guy. He isn’t a small guy either. He has to be at least six-foot-five, and his biceps are the size of bowling balls.”
I help August stand. His forehead is slicked with sweat, and he shakes his legs and arms out after sitting in that position for so long.
“August, meet Snow White.” I wave my hand toward Maisie, and she steps forward.
“I’m not surprised,” August says.
There’s a rustling that sounds a little too close for my comfort. Then twigs begin to snap and crack one by one. Footsteps are beating against the ground, as if this person isn’t one single bit afraid of being heard by nearby ears.
Maisie grabs the pickaxe that I left on the ground beside her and hands it over to August. He is already holding it and ready.
I know the barrier must be up ahead somewhere from where the stomping is drawing closer. For now, I think maybe it’s better to run the other direction and try to come back later. I have no idea if this is the only person out here. August and Maisie have no clue either.
We make it a few feet when I’m yanked to the side, and my knife drops to the ground. I don’t understand. The noise I heard—I thought it was coming from another direction. “Where is she?” A loud voice with hot breath booms in my ear.
August curses and turns around, along with Maisie. I mouth for them to run. Neither one of them listens to me.
A strong hand pulls my face to meet his, and I can’t see what August and Maisie are doing.
The man’s eyes are the color of gold, and his face has a strong jaw. Most people would find him ruggedly handsome. I’m just scared out of my mind. “Do I have to ask again? Where. Is. The. Girl.”
“I am a girl,” I answer stupidly. I just don’t want him to find Maisie.
“Don’t play games with me. I saw you with Snow moments ago,” he rasps.
He looks away from me and spots August. “Either you are a wizard and managed to free yourself you little rat, or this little tart here helped you escape.”
I’m turned so that we are both facing August, but I look around and don’t find Maisie. Maybe she did take off or went back to the cottage.
August has the pickaxe over his shoulder, and his eyes are darting back and forth between the guy and me. “Let her go.”
“I will let her go if you give me Snow. I need to have her heart in my hand,” he growls. Okay, definitely the Huntsman.
I would rather die right here and now than let him lay one single finger on Maisie or her loving heart. “August. Go!”
Stubborn August doesn’t move an inch. The Huntsman is squeezing me tightly, and his rough hand comes up to my jaw and clamps it in place. “Snow, come out now, or your little mousy will not be able to make a single squeak.” His fingers begin to slowly stroke my cheek, and I want to bite them off.
“Here I am.” Maisie takes this opportunity to make an entrance with her pickaxe over her shoulder in a warrior pose. I’m pissed for her not using the time to escape. I would have done the exact same thing for her, but I’m still angry.
“Maisie! Run,” I try to yell, but the squeezing that the Huntsman is doing to my face has my words coming out garbled, with spit flying out of my mouth and onto his hand.
The Huntsman’s hand tightens on my face, and I’m a tiny bit worried that it’s going to burst like an avocado. “Ah. There is my special, little doe. I have been searching everywhere for you. You have made things quite difficult for me, and I don’t like things to be troublesome,” he drawls.
I pull my knee up, slamming my heel as hard as I can into his shin, and he only squeezes me tighter.
“I’ll come with you if you let her go,” Maisie insists.
Oh, no, she won’t. If he releases me, I can grab the knife I dropped on the ground and bring it up to stab him anywhere I’m able.
“How sweet. My little doe thinks that she has a choice,” he purrs in my ear.
Maisie hasn’t lowered her pickaxe. She looks prepared for anything, but then out of nowhere he tosses me to the ground. When I look up, he slides an axe from behind his back quicker than I can think. He thrusts it with one muscular arm, and it swings round and round. The sharp end strikes Maisie’s neck perfectly, and then continues its circular motion, until it slams into a trunk of a tree and stays there.
“No!” I scream. I scream louder than a thousand screams put together and longer than a thousand echoes. My hands shake as I dive to the ground, where Maisie’s beautiful head is lying next to her body. It has fallen into a heap against the grass and leaves.
Blood pours out, and all I can think is let me put her back together. She’ll be fine. I snap out of my delusional thoughts when I’m pulled back. I begin to flail frantically in his arms, and I’m going to murder him. My fists are pounding against muscle.
“Perrie, it’s me,” August says gently, and I stop. “We have to go.”
I look over to the Huntsman, who is taking his time walking over to the tree where his a
xe is embedded. I see him clearly, and his brown boots and tan pants are covered in mud. His black tunic is so tight in places, I don’t see how it hasn’t ripped.
My hand reaches for the knife I see gleaming in the grass as I loosen myself from August. I grab it.
The Huntsman already has his eyes on me. I have the knife in my hand, getting ready to run at him. “I would not try and do that, mousy. You two better run back before I change my mind.” He flicks his wrist in the direction of the cottage.
August turns me away. “Let’s get out of here and come up with a new plan. There’s no way we’re getting past him now. We’re lucky he’s letting us go the other way. I don’t have the skills to throw this pickaxe the way he threw that axe.”
I nod my head and look again at Maisie, and the tears build in my eyes and begin streaming down my cheeks. August wipes them away as we turn and start running.
“Until we meet again,” the Huntsman calls. I don’t even attempt to look back.
I follow August. I point in the direction of the cottage, and we run. I don’t want to go back there, but it’s the only place that has water, shelter, and maybe a better weapon to use.
When we aren’t that far from the cottage, I stop and lean my back and head against a tree. “I have to stop for a second.”
August slows and walks back over to me. His face is solemn. He pulls me away from the tree, hugging me to him, wrapping one arm behind my back and the other pushes my head to his shoulder. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you everything is going to be okay, but we have to keep going. Even if we have to go back and stop others from coming into this place, we have to try.”
“Maisie was more than a cousin to me, August. She was like a sister and has been there for everything,” I cry.
“Look at me, Perrie.” I lift my head, and he puts his hands on my cheeks. “I cared a great deal about Maisie, and I know for a fact she would want you to keep going for yourself and for your families. I may be selfish here, but I want you to go for me, too.”
The tears pour down my face more, and I move out of his hands. I yank his body hard against mine and hold onto him tightly. He rubs my lower back softly to try and calm me down.
Quinsey Wolfe's Glass Vault Page 15