House of Dolls 4
Page 1
House
of
Dolls IV
By Harmon Cooper
Copyright © 2019 by Harmon Cooper
Copyright © 2019 Boycott Books
Edited by Allison Erin Wright
Audiobook by Tantor Media, Narrated by Neil Hellegers
www.harmoncooper.com
writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com
Twitter: @_HarmonCooper
Harmon Cooper’s Patreon
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Recap
Prologue: Bodega
Chapter One: The Crack on the Ceiling
Chapter Two: Dreams and Questions
Chapter Three: Return
Chapter Four: Surprise Visit
Chapter Five: A Trip to North Lake
Chapter Six: Stories Collide
Chapter Seven: Personal Development Hell
Chapter Eight: Upgrades
Chapter Nine: In Good Hands
Chapter Ten: A Long Time Coming
Chapter Eleven: Streamlined Removal
Chapter Twelve: New Horizons
Chapter Thirteen: Future Plans
Chapter Fourteen: Official
Chapter Fifteen: The Woes of Running a Successful Small Business
Chapter Sixteen: Suited Up
Chapter Seventeen: Room Service
Chapter Eighteen: Raises All Around
Chapter Nineteen: Devil and Meatloaf
Chapter Twenty: And You Will Know Her by the Trail of the Dead
Chapter Twenty-One: Big Mouth, Little Doll
Chapter Twenty-Two: Plummet
Chapter Twenty-Three: Snap
Chapter Twenty-Four: MindLenz
Chapter Twenty-Five: Send in the Dolls
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Last Supper
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Pleasure House
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Room Service
Epilogue: Now or Never
Back of the Book Content
Recap
This is the fourth book in the bestselling House of Dolls series, so if you’ve missed the first few, you can find the links here:
Book One: https://geni.us/HouseofDolls
Book Two: https://geni.us/HouseofDolls2
Book Three: https://geni.us/HouseofDolls3
Child of Chaos (House of Dolls Prequel): https://geni.us/ChildofChaos
Continue for a recap of the third book.
(Contains spoilers!)
The world is known as Centralia, which is also the name of its largest country. Centralia is a heavily populated country, the center of all civilization, with buildings and development as far as the eye can see.
To the west is the aptly named Western Province, a once-popular but currently battle-torn country where proxy wars are fought. To the east is the Eastern Province, which is the poorest country in the world and the producer of the best technologies.
To the north is the Northern Alliance, a country located in the hottest region of the world and whose people are isolationists. To the south is the Southern Alliance, the coldest country in the world, rich in history but very exclusive and backward in many of their views.
Exemplars and non-exemplars make up the world of Centralia. Exemplars are people with known superpowers that have been classified, and each country has its own classification system. Non-exemplars have a propensity for superpowers, but they are half-powered at best. Non-exemplars are treated differently in some of the countries, most notably the Southern Alliance.
In the third book, Roman had his power to animate inanimate objects taken away. Margo was thought to have been killed, only to reappear at her handler’s apartment in the body of one of the dolls. Orange, Margo’s handler, offered to help her. Meanwhile, Kevin barely escaped the battle between Margo and Roman, then decided to leave the country with his two catgirls, Turquoise and Obsidian.
Now, start reading!
-Harmon Cooper
Prologue: Bodega
Roman unpacked the box of cheap wine, placing each bottle on a metal shelf and making sure the labels faced outward. He saw a wisp of dust and picked it up, then dropped it in a trash can near the door.
He wore black, as he normally did, but he was also in a smock, something Roman was required to wear at this particular bodega.
It had been a month since he’d had his power stripped from him, and the powers that be were still deciding if he would be allowed to keep his ability or not.
In the meantime, he was supposed to attend Heroes Anonymous meetings, which he’d skipped altogether, and get a job, which he’d managed to accomplish even if it was somewhat of a lowly position considering Roman had once worked for the Centralian government.
It wasn’t hard work. Aside from his cleaning and restocking duties, there wasn’t much asked of him. But Roman had issues with pride at times, and being discovered working at a convenience store, especially coming off a cushy government job, was the last thing he wanted.
This was why he’d gotten a haircut and chosen a bodega far away from his former place of employment and the condo he’d lived in until Margo had destroyed it.
It was also why he worked the night shift.
It was a quiet neighborhood not far from the rail station, and most of the late-night customers wanted a quick bite to eat or something to drink, preferably wine. Hours would pass with no one entering, Roman allowed to be by himself, sometimes getting lost in his thoughts as he stared out at the streets.
He kept Casper with him, the tiny doll tucked in the front of his smock. Sometimes he would place his hand in there and hold her, remembering what it had been like when she was alive.
When it was especially slow, Roman would imagine himself with his power again.
He would look at the boxes that needed to be stacked or the floor that needed to be mopped and imagine what it would be like to animate everything, to breathe life into things that were internally dead.
Sometimes he would actually try to do it, his hand outstretched, his fingers curled, a vein appearing on the side of his forehead. Nothing.
It was a goddamn shame.
When he’d first started the job and was still getting used to working overnight, Roman had fallen asleep on one of his shifts, dreaming that he was in this very bodega, his power back, Celia and Coma with him.
Masked Coma helped unload some of the boxes while Celia quickly mopped the floor, even though Roman told her he could just have the mop do it.
She insisted, saying it was an honest day’s work. Roman laughed while Casper talked shit from his pocket.
He awoke from the dream when a customer entered, a drunken older woman looking for a late-night pick-me-up.
She tossed money onto the counter, more than necessary, then grabbed two bottles of wine and stumbled out, which somehow felt apropos at the time.
One thing Roman liked about the late shift was seeing the sun come up.
He was so used to seeing it go down and usually not awake when it came up in the morning. It always captured his attention to see the outside change from black to dark blue, morphing to purple and then lapis lazuli, and from there to various shades of orange and yellow.
So there were some benefits to working overnight, and he looked forward to zoning out soon, once he finished restocking the wine.
Roman was breaking down the empty wine box when the door chimed. He looked up to see a man with dark hair enter, dressed impeccably from head to toe.
“Hello,” the man said before Roman could greet him.
“Can I help you find something?”
> “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the man asked.
“Probably not,” Roman lied. “I’m from southern Centralia and just got a job up here. I mean, unless you are from the South.” Roman cleared his throat. “You aren’t from the South, are you?”
“No, I’m from the West,” the man said, his dark eyes scanning Roman.
“Nice, I just have a few friends from there. So… can I help you?”
“You know, I’m sorry, but you just look so familiar. I had this friend named Ian, and I believe he looks just like you…”
Roman felt his nerves tense. There was something about the way the man was looking at him that made him feel uneasy.
He also noticed it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.
He took a step away from the man, placing his hand on one of the wine racks and then slowly wrapping his fingers around the neck of one of the bottles.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Roman asked him again. “And to answer your question, no, that’s not my name.”
“What is your name?”
“Marcus,” Roman said. “Marcus Strong.”
“Is it now?” the man asked as he examined a bag of almonds. “I like that name. It has a ring to it. It sounds like the name of a writer.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Roman said with a casual shrug. “But it’s what my parents gave me. Nothing I can do about it I guess, aside from write,” he said, laughing nervously.
“My name is Orange,” the man told him, “which is also an unconventional name.”
“So you’re from the actual West then, aren’t you? Roman asked, his grip tightening on the wine bottle.
“That I am,” Orange said. “Born and raised, lived through the Western Plague. I was even a soldier, if you can believe that.”
“And you managed to make it here. What kind of visa did you come on?”
Orange tilted his head to the side. “What do you know about visas?”
Roman shook his head. “I had a brother who worked in immigration. That’s why I ask. He was always going off about visa types and whatever. I mean, I know how that stuff works, but it’s not really a big interest to me.”
“I get that.” Orange looked around again, returning his focus to Roman. “Anyway, I just wanted to grab something to snack on.” He placed the bag of almonds on the counter. “I’m glad you’re open.”
Roman started making his way to the counter. “We stay open twenty-four hours a day.”
“What did you say your name was again?” Orange asked.
“Marcus,” Roman said, noticing that the air around him had started to thin again.
He tried to maintain his composure, but as he took the money from the man, Roman felt his legs start to grow weak.
He gasped, and the air refilled his lungs.
“Are you okay?” Orange asked, his dark eyes locked on Roman. “Should I call a teleporter to take you to the hospital?”
“No, that’s not necessary. I just have…” Roman tapped his chest. “Occasional chest pains.”
“Too bad there aren’t any healers around to help you.”
“Healers were before my time,” Roman told him. “It’s too bad, too. They would have done a lot of good around here.”
“That’s for sure,” Orange said as he turned away. He lifted his hand over his shoulder, glancing at Roman as he stepped to the door. “Have a good night. I’ll be seeing you.”
Chapter One: The Crack on the Ceiling
His shift over, Roman took the trolley to the studio apartment the Centralian government had provided him. The trolley was empty aside from a woman with a shaved head reading a romance novel, and she shifted a few seats away from Roman once she saw he had an ankle bracelet on.
He was used to the tracking device by now, definitely tech from the Eastern Province. He didn’t know who was actually tracking him, though. While he hoped it was Ava, his former teacher, he knew it could be anyone.
Even a month later and after plenty of time for reflection, Roman knew he would have still gone after Margo had he been given the choice. And he tried to cancel this thought, just in case there was a telepath in the vicinity hired by the Council to keep tabs on his thoughts.
But it was impossible.
The conviction was too strong, his desire to retrieve Celia’s body more powerful than anything he had felt before.
It saddened him that Ava had found herself in the crosshairs of all this. She was a firecracker, even before one considered her power over fire, and she’d gone to bat for Roman.
So if someone was tracking him, able to come to him in a matter of seconds, he wished it was her.
Roman wanted to apologize.
He wanted to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, even if he would have done the same thing again.
But he hadn’t heard from Ava in over a month, and he really didn’t know where they would stand regardless of whether he got his power back.
The trolley started to slow; a dinging bell let Roman know his stop was approaching.
As he had before, Roman experienced a momentary sense of dread right when he neared the door of his home.
He wished he was allowed to carry a wrist guard, but if they found him with something like that, it would affect the final decision of the Council. He wanted to stay on their good side. He wanted his goddamn power back.
After quietly unlocking it, Roman kicked the door open as he normally did and stepped aside, waiting for something to fire out at him.
When it didn’t, he quickly shut the door behind him and hoped none of the neighbors had seen him act so oddly.
There was an ugly green couch in the place, and resting on the couch were Roman’s two dolls, Celia and Coma, lifelessly leaning against each other.
Coma was in all black as usual, one of the Gothic Lolita dresses she’d come with, a silver mask on her face. Celia was next to her in a flowing black dress Roman had picked out for her to replace her usual exemplar getup.
He shook his head as he took them in.
Roman took Casper out of the pocket of his jacket and placed her on Coma’s lap.
He moved to the bed on the other side of the room and kicked off his shoes before lying on it, his hands coming behind his head.
Roman got the urge to send a mental message to Ava but suppressed it.
Biting his lip, he turned to his side and looked over at his dolls.
Damn, did he miss them.
He still had people who wanted to see him, most notably Catherine, the Northern Alliance wind user who had been increasingly putting pressure on him to help her with her finances.
Of course, Roman had no money and could no longer counterfeit more, so he expected this relationship to come to an end soon. What he didn’t expect was for his door to blow open and for Catherine to fly inside the room, the door slamming behind her, an agitated look on her face and a bottle of wine in her hand.
“I think I messed up your door,” she said, drunkenly pointing her bottle of wine at it.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked her as he sat up, his feet now on the floor.
“I followed you from the bodega you work at. You didn’t see me in the sky?”
Roman imagined a drunken wind user doing twirls in the air, barely able to maintain her balance. “No.”
Catherine snorted as she looked over at Roman’s dolls. “Because that’s not unsettling…”
“We’ve been over this before,” Roman told her. “They may give me my power back, and when they do, I will reanimate them.”
“What do they have that a real woman doesn’t?” she asked, bending her ankles so she could stumble out of her heels.
Catherine approached Roman and placed her wine bottle on his nightstand.
“Did you miss me?” she whispered, her lips pressing into a pout.
“It was a strange night,” Roman said.
“How so?”
She placed a hand on his
shoulder, and a gust of air lifted Roman off his feet to redeposit him on his bed. Catherine threw herself on top of him, straddling his waist.
“It was pretty quiet aside from this one guy that came in kind of late. I thought he was going to do something to me.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t work the night shift, baby,” Catherine said with a hiccup.
“It’s better that way—less chance of running into someone I know.”
Catherine lowered her face to Roman’s, her lips just above his.
“He was definitely an exemplar,” Roman said, recalling the dark-haired man. “I don’t know what his power was, but there was something affecting the oxygen around me.”
“I can do that too,” Catherine said, sucking in air, and Roman’s breath left his body.
He was now unable to breathe. Catherine smiled down at him as she continued to suck in air over his face.
She sat up and took the clip out of her white hair to release it, the red strand at the side bouncing above her right shoulder.
She placed her hands under her breasts and brought them together. “Do you think they’re big enough?” she asked, looking down at them.
“They’re fine,” Roman told her once he could breathe again. “Perfect.”
Catherine was a petite woman, yet she struggled with body image. She was constantly asking Roman questions about her size and how she stacked up to other people.
“Are you sure?”
She took off her red leather jacket and threw it on the floor, her hands coming back to her tits.
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“So I’ll suck your dick,” she said with a giggle.
A grin stretched across Roman’s face.
He had noticed from the beginning that he and Catherine barely had any chemistry, but that didn’t stop her from constantly trying to seduce him, usually by saying dirty little things that often took Roman off guard, like the times she’d told him to come on her lips or put his finger in her ass.
That part he enjoyed, but he really had nothing else in common with the woman, and they didn’t have anything to talk about aside from sex and her money woes.