Amanda was the best at opening the basement door without making a sound, so it was her job to stand watch while Katie snuck into the kitchen for treats. From her spot just inside the basement landing, Amanda could hear Mom talking with Aunt Sophie in the living room. She did not know what they were saying, although she heard them mention Jillian once or twice. Dad moved around the den, maybe doing something with the Christmas tree, and his footsteps came dangerously close to the entrance that looked into the kitchen, but fortunately he didn't notice Katie sneaking around the refrigerator. Eventually he went into the living room too.
Both girls knew it was stupid to be downstairs having a party while they were supposed to be in their room, but Mary-Ellen felt like celebrating, and it would have been more stupid to disobey her.
Katie came back with her last part of their haul: the large jug of eggnog and the pack of green Jell-O cups. Amanda widened the door for her to enter, but Katie stopped with a muffled squeak, nearly dropping her cargo.
What's wrong? Amanda mouthed.
Arms still hugging the eggnog and snack cups, Katie pointed a shaky finger to Amanda's left, on the other side of the door frame. Amanda peered around the corner - and had to cover her mouth to conceal her gasp.
Slappy leaned against the hallway wall, grinning up at her.
The twins looked at each other. "What do we do?" whispered Amanda. Although she had enjoyed Slappy when they had seen him at the Little Theater, now the dummy was Jillian's friend, and Mary-Ellen had said they needed to be careful around him.
"Take him to Mary-Ellen," Katie answered, and she held up the bottle and Jell-O for Amanda to take. Katie swallowed and took a step toward the dummy - swallowed again - and bent to pick him up. Amanda covered her mouth, half-expecting Slappy to start making noises to get them in trouble, but the brown-haired puppet stayed still and continued to smile as Katie lifted him by the wrist and slung him onto her shoulder.
Amanda opened the basement door and let the two slip past. "Mary-Ellen will be happy to see you," she whispered to the dummy as Katie crept down the steps.
Jillian laid on her stomach on the top of the stairs, listening. She had guessed her sisters would try to leave their room without permission, and she had not been disappointed when she had heard the creak of the door down the hall. Her original idea was to leave Slappy in their bedroom to wait for them to come back, but after the girls had taken too long returning, she had crept with Slappy to the stairs. The dummy had wiggled out of her arms, claiming he could hear them moving from the kitchen to the basement and back, and he began to inch his way down the stairs.
Fortunately, Dad had left the den, and Slappy had taken the opportunity to circle the long way around to reach the hallway. "I'm gonna do this good deed even if it kills me," she had heard the dummy muttered as he descended. From the lack of noise downstairs besides a whispered squeak from Katie, Jillian guessed the girls had discovered him.
She took a deep breath. This had been her idea, but her heart pulsed as if she had just finished a marathon. Two days ago she had been hesitant to hold him, but now, even knowing it would help her cause, she did not really want to let him go.
Stay safe, she thought as she heard the twins shut the basement door behind them.
Slappy's arms dangled over the Ponytail Brat's shoulder, bumping against the little girl's back with each stair she descended into enemy territory. Girly Brat followed close behind, carrying the stolen snacks from the kitchen.
How did I let Jillian talk me into this? Slappy inwardly scowled, but he knew the answer before he even finished the question. This was his chance to get his second good act done; his life hung in the balance. If he could act as Jillian's envoy and find out something about Mary-Ellen, he was that much closer to his freedom - and his future.
At the bottom of the steps, Ponytail Brat turned Slappy to face forward, and he saw Mary-Ellen sitting at a doll-sized wooden table in the middle of the rec room, hair frizzy and wearing a red velvet Christmas dress. A plastic tea set with a sappy design rested in front of her, and Slappy could see the other snacks the girls had already brought down for the private party.
"Look who it is," said Ponytail Brat with a nervously chipper squeak, holding up the limp dummy.
"What do you want us to do, Mary-Ellen?" asked Girly Brat.
The doll did not reply, but Slappy saw the girly one nod obediently out of the corner of his eye. "Okay, we'll do that," she said, and the two miniature humans set to work. Ponytail set Slappy in the chair facing Mary-Ellen, carefully arranging his arms over the armrests, and Girly opened the teapot and poured in the chilled eggnog. The kids busied themselves laying out their pilfered picnic on the tiny table, but neither one spoke. Slappy kept his dull eyes glued to Mary-Ellen, and the doll stared back without even twitching her nose.
To his surprise the little girls suddenly stepped away from the table. "Okay, Mary-Ellen," said the girly one in a tone that sounded like she was replying to a statement. "Whatever you want."
"We'll come back when you need us," squeaked the other, and they turned and headed upstairs - leaving Slappy alone with the doll.
Mary-Ellen did not move.
The ticking of the clock in the next room filled the air, making the silence that much more deafening. Slappy stared blankly at the ugly face, expecting her to blink her violet eyes and start reaching for the cupcake on her plate, but she remained still.
Hurry up and let me do my good deed already, he thought angrily behind his placid expression. His being in this room meant he could do something for Jillian that she actually needed - a chance to know what Mary-Ellen truly wanted or at least discover a weakness. Yet that conversation would never get started if Franken-Barbie didn't actually tell him something. His life was literally ticking away with each twitch of the clock's second hand. Was she expecting him to make the first move -
Comfy?
Slappy had to keep himself from jumping, but his arm moved ever so slightly against the seat.
I asked, are you comfy?
Slappy did not respond, still staring at the motionless plastic face in front of him.
Feel free to help yourself. There's more where that came from, the high female voice continued companionably deep inside his head, somewhere near his subconscious thoughts.
The heater kicked on then, drowning out the clock.
Suddenly, he heard a soft chuckle - an audible sound. "If you're going to play dead, I can have the girls give you a proper funeral and throw you in the fireplace," the heart-shaped mouth said as Mary-Ellen fluffed her messy brown hair with a plastic hand. "Or do you prefer a burial in the backyard, Slappy?"
The dummy finally allowed himself to blink. He sat up in his seat with a smirk, acting unfazed by her threats. "You're quite the hostess, aren't you, doll?"
"I try," Mary-Ellen returned, now shifting her weight to reach for the plastic teapot and pour a white liquid into her pink cup. "I like a bit of eggnog around the holidays, don't you? Hand me your cup, doll. Come on, come on. Your cup, Slappy." She held out her tiny hand. "We're dolls, not humans after all."
Slappy slid his cup over, which she generously filled - and the dummy was struck by how odd it was that she should be the first doll he had spoken to in ages. It reminded him of the first few weeks of his life when he had had only the company of the other surviving toys in his creator's workshop before the landlord had discovered the toymaker's body. There had not been much left: a jack-in-box controlled by music, a porcelain doll with a saintly face that masked a delightfully wicked soul, himself and...
Slappy shook away the memories of red-haired puppets and reminded himself he needed to get this deed done. "Trying to sweeten me up?" he joked as Mary-Ellen passed him back the girly teacup.
"I think you're just right the way you are," the doll laughed. "Sharing food is a good way to start things off for two people with as much to talk about as we do."
"Cutting to the chase. At least some of your brain works - if you had a brain, that is," snickered Slappy, looking her up and down.
"Glass houses, dear," Mary-Ellen replied, her painted smile twitching momentarily into a frown. She tilted her frizzy head, studying him. Her red mouth regained its grin. "Before the party I was never able to get close enough to see if you were really alive, but I knew it the moment you elbowed Jimmy."
Slappy looked her dead in the eye. "Because you knew he wouldn't have his dummy hit him after that spell you cast on him," he surmised. "Same spell you pulled on Mrs. Zinman in the kitchen just now so that she wouldn't side with Jillian, am I right?" He had not known why Jimmy had started to lower him toward the twins the day of the party, especially since it was out of character for the dweeb to let Slappy in kicking range of children. However, after Mrs. Zinman's little lightheaded spell which had followed with her punishing Jillian, it now made sense. It had been a long while since he had seen doll magic besides his own. "I know you're already communicating with the brats without talking, so a little mind control wouldn't be too out of left field."
"You're a smart cookie," Mary-Ellen grinned, holding up a piece of gingerbread, before she laid her round chin on her tiny palms. "Since we're cutting to the chase, tell me how you are liking my humans, darling. I hope you weren't planning to steal any of my slaves while you're here."
Slappy looked at her sharply before he furrowed his brow, faking confusion. "Slaves?" he asked innocently. "Is that a joke?"
Mary-Ellen gave a dry chuckle. "Nobody believes you're a Boy Scout, puppet. Whoever heard of a human bringing a doll to life for good intentions?"
He snorted, dropping his good-guy expression. "Fair enough." Actually, I'll settle for just one slave. She's all I need once this curse is lifted. "Must be hard for you with only those two Munchkins."
"You'd be surprised," replied the doll companionably. "It helps to have such a huge age gap between Jillian and the girls. Their parents make the big sister cater to the little sisters, so I essentially get all five Zinmans doing what I want."
Slappy saw an opening. "And what do you want?" he asked casually, leaning his head against his palm.
Mary-Ellen gave him a mysterious smile. "Haven't you guessed?"
Slappy wasn't sure if he wanted to answer.
The doll giggled and picked up her saucer and cup. "Actually, I'm almost flattered an actor of your caliber decided to roost here. I suppose we both have good tastes, hmm?" She gestured to his eggnog. "Go on. I bet you haven't gotten this kind of service from Jimmy O'James, have you, darling? Or would you prefer I put Tabasco in it?"
Slappy shifted forward and sniffed the white substance before he gingerly took a sip. Not half bad. He reached over a bowl of green grapes to grab a gingerbread cookie. "So, what's your story then, kid? Mommy or Daddy was a magic-using doll maker with a vendetta?"
Mary-Ellen's brow arched, and a cold rage clouded her glassy eyes. "My mother!" she scoffed. "My mother thought the best thing to do with her magic was to make ugly dolls that no one would ever steal just to make them do housework." Her hideous mouth formed a cruel smirk. "Now, she's in the ground, and I have two slaves who wait on me hand and foot. Life is funny that way. You?"
He took a long sip before answering, weighing his options. He really did not want to delve into his life story with this freak, but if he kept the conversation going, perhaps he would discover something useful. "Pop stole an enemy's coffin and made a dummy out of it," he replied, wiping the white mustache from his lip. Well, two dummies, he thought bitterly, but he pushed those dark memories aside once again. "He had the idea to live forever through making a living coffin."
Her eyes widened. "Fascinating," she purred, scooting closer. "He put his soul inside a long-lasting vessel. I bet you can't be killed off without your soul possessing a new host, can it?"
"No getting rid of me unless I want to leave."
She nodded vigorously. "Does that mean you're just a human inside a doll's body?"
Slappy sat up, sloshing eggnog onto the table. "Bite your plastic tongue!" he growled. "I'm no more human than you, kiddo."
She chuckled, and her enthusiasm visibly dialed back. "I meant no offense, doll. It's just that you've been a source of much... curiosity for me these past few months."
Why was she looking at him like that? Slappy sneered to hide his unease and tossed a bit of cookie carelessly into his sliding mouth. "So, what's your game, sister?" Tell me something useful.
"Monopoly," Mary-Ellen quipped in a cheery voice which Slappy was beginning to find insufferable. "But I am open to sharing - if the business partner was nice enough. Or handsome enough." She ran her fingers through her messy hair and pursed her lips slightly at him.
Slappy tried not to vomit inside his mouth. He folded his hands. "So, if you want to talk business, let's talk business, Miss Mary Mack."
"So direct," she grinned, batting her eyelashes. "I admire a man who can take charge." She lowered her tea cup slightly. "I believe we can come to an arrangement that will please us both. Even with your… questionable taste in companions, I'm looking forward to many good evil years together."
Slappy raised an eyebrow. "What do you have against Jillian anyway?"
Her violet eyes darkened. "Have you met that brat?" she growled.
"Quite pleased to say that I have," replied Slappy smugly. "Why? Can't you handle her as well as I can?"
Mary-Ellen frowned. "Jillian will be a young woman in a short time, and adults are harder to control," she said, sliding her plastic thumb over her teacup. "As I'm sure you've learned with Jimmy O'James."
Slappy snorted. "So, why not pull the same stunt on Jillian that you did with Mrs. Zinman and Jimmy? If you have the magic, why torment Jillian instead of controlling her?"
"I have my reasons." However, Mary-Ellen broke eye contact, frowning down at her gingerbread cookie. Frustration etched her face even as Slappy saw a struggle to project a disinterested expression.
Then Slappy understood. "Heh!" He smirked and leaned forward. "Is she too strong-willed for you to control?"
Mary-Ellen scoffed, but her purple eyes showed thunder. "I just prefer working with small children," she insisted, dipping her own gingerbread cookie into her eggnog and nibbling (rather grumpily) at the softened part. "They're much more pliable, and if you can catch them young enough, they'll fear you all the way to adulthood. I had raised my last girl until her first year of college. I would've married her off to a young man with a big, fat trust fund, but the little fool tried to slit her wrist. While she was in the hospital, her family sold me to Mr. Zinman in a yard sale. This time around I have twins, so imagine what they can do when they start driving."
"If you say so," answered Slappy, feeling a rush of pride for his green-eye girl. He also experienced a sense of satisfaction when he recalled all the little favors Jillian had begun to do for him, like giving him the jazz cassette tape and a can of root beer that morning. He had gotten the kid to do more for him in a few days than what Mary-Ellen could do in a few months.
I bet you've tried to control me too - but it won't work even if I were as weak minded as Jimmy, Slappy inwardly gloated, recalling a page in the toy maker's journal. The sorcerer had gleefully recorded a time when a rival witch had tried to place a spell to control one of his teddy bears with razor teeth. However, the bear had been under one of the toy maker's nastier curses and had thus been immune. Sure, it was an immunity in the way that people with sickle cell disease couldn't get malaria, but for once Slappy felt a sense of power from his deadly protective covering. Dolls could not be double cursed.
Mary-Ellen did not speak again for several moments, sampling her cupcake, cookies, and other treats. Just as Slappy was about to make a joke about her needing to stress eat because of a preteen girl, the doll suddenly stopped. A wicked light spread across her pug face. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. "I had a thought just now."
"Did it hurt?"
Mary-Ellen chuckled. "Slappy, dear, it's hard enough to be one living doll on a planet full of dumb monkeys, but imagine what two living dolls with magic could do."
Slappy snorted. "A team up?"
"Why not?" she answered sweetly. "I already have my two slaves. I would be happy to part with one twin for your private use. Thanks to me, they already have their parents wrapped around their little fingers. My girls could get you whatever you need."
Slappy sat a little straighter. An image flashed across his mind of the little brats catering to his every whim while he sat upon one of the comfy chairs in the Zinman's living room. Once he finished his two remaining good deeds and got rid of Jimmy, it would be nice to have a pre-packaged slave to do his bidding - and maybe he would let Jillian enjoy the pleasure of bossing her sisters around for a change. If Jillian was nice to him.
Slappy examined his fingers, feigning boredom. "Tempting," he replied after a moment. "What's the catch?"
She held up one finger. "All I ask is a teeny, tiny thing," she chirped. "You help me send your precious roommate to juvie or the funny farm. Once she's out of the house for good, you can pick your twin."
The puppet frowned. "Why would I want to do that? Jillian obeys me," he jabbed.
Her eyebrows arched. "A man as evil as you must enjoy spreading misery. Imagine all the pain you can inflict on her. The tears she could shed. The screams. The descent into madness. I can vouch that her torment can be entertaining to watch." She smiled. "Plus Katie and Amanda won't be giving you any trouble once they reach their teens. Jillian will just backtalk you. Mark my words."
How about I mark your face? With an axe?
He was sorely tempted to sling his chair into her head, but the thought of the curse kept him from attacking her. He was here to come up with a solution. "How about I make Jillian help you out once in a while?" he suggested, speaking through his teeth. "You loan me your twins. I loan you Jillian. We use all three girls to get the parents to buy us what we want. Truce."
The doll's face hardened. "No dice. That girl is a pimple needing to be popped, and I'm out of patience. Either you're for me or you're against me, Slappy," she growled. "I suggest you pick the side that already has the most power in this house."
The dummy straightened. "Jillian is my slave, and no plastic gargoyle is going to tell me what to do with my property."
"Hmph!" she snorted, tossing her frizzy mane. "I got this family first. You're trying to enslave what I have rightfully captured. The least you could do is offer a price - and my price is that freak's complete and utter misery."
"Look, you have guts - I'll give you that, kid - but you're out of your league."
To his surprise, Mary-Ellen smiled. She leaned back, lacing her plastic fingers. "What do you know about girls around Jillian's tender age, darling?"
"I've known a few," he returned. Granted, he had not lived long with any of them. "Why?"
Mary-Ellen's grin became shark like. "Well, as a woman who has known many little girls over the years, I can tell you that they become… hormonal around this time. Irrational, you might say. Can't think things through properly."
Slappy's jaw twitched. "What are you getting at?"
Mary-Ellen's heart-shaped mouth became a thin line, but she gave a muffled laugh. "Little Katie doesn't cry much," she said when she had quieted, "but I could give her a reason to cry if I chose. Now, supposing I were talking to an enemy instead of a good friend right now, what if Katie ran crying to Mommy and Daddy because of the irrational thing Jillian did to her angelic face?" She tilted her head. "With everything going on with the court case, what do you think will happen to Jillian? Or to a certain dummy once she's shipped off to juvie?"
Slappy stared at her. "You're sick."
"Aw, you say the nicest things," she tittered, batting her synthetic eyelashes. "One word, darling, and you're out."
However, even as his mind considered being thrown into the trash before he could break the curse and having the city dump for a smelly grave, a slow burn coursed through Slappy. Jillian was his slave - and he intended to make her so much more than that in time. There was no way that some Cabbage Patch Kid was going to tell him what to do with his property. "No," he said firmly.
She shook a minatory finger side to side. "You'll be sorry."
"I'm never sorry for anything, kid," he sneered. "And I don't take orders - I give them." In a flash he was on his feet, grabbing the teapot. Before Mary-Ellen had time to react, he pulled the top off and flung the contents into her face. He planned to pummel the toy into her head, but he almost lost his feet as the doll shrieked and flipped the table over, sending the picnic flying.
Before he could even raise his arm to shield himself, Mary-Ellen tackled him, and the two toys struggled on the now messy carpet, punching, kicking, and growling. Just as Slappy summoned what was left of his weakened strength to hurl the doll across the room, Mary-Ellen's plastic fist suddenly rammed in between his eyes, and he saw stars.
The doll slammed him on his back, rattling his sliding jaw. Her hands immediately snaked around his neck, tugging his head away from his shoulders. "I really don't want to hurt you, dear," she hissed, "but if I have to teach you a lesson - " But she did not get to finish.
The basement door opened above them. Both dolls went still. Heavy footsteps began to descend. Mary-Ellen crumpled onto the carpet, and Slappy managed to scoot away from her just as Mr. Zinman's Christmas house slippers appeared. The rest of him soon followed, and the balding man let out an exclamation the moment he saw the mess. "What's going on down there?"
Slappy stared at the ceiling as Mr. Zinman marched over to the still toys. He grabbed Slappy and Mary-Ellen by their collars and tucked both of them under one arm. "Katie and Amanda!" he exhaled, righting the wooden table. He picked up a few pieces of the uneaten food before he seemed to think better of it and turned on his heel toward the stairs, no doubt planning to get proper cleaning equipment.
Slappy and Mary-Ellen's shoulders bumped together as Mr. Zinman started upward. Although they couldn't look at each other, Slappy suddenly had an image in his head of two violet eyes glaring cold fire at him.
This isn't over, darling, Mary-Ellen hissed.