Slappy tried to cheer Jillian up when she got home. The girl flung her tall frame over her bed and buried her face in the mattress, refusing to look at him or at anything that wasn't her covers.

"C'mon, it could've been worse, sweet eyes," he assured her — and he risked placing his hand on her shiny black hair. When she didn't push him away, he let it rest there.

"The whole world thinks I'm nuts," Jillian mumbled. She pulled her flannel shirt up to hide her face. "The only ones who know the truth either can't tell or won't tell."

"But at least Slappy knows the truth," he returned, doing his best to make his raspy voice sound comforting.

Normally, he would have been cursing his luck that a good deed had been ruined yet again; however, seeing Jillian draped across her bed in despair revealed a new opportunity for a kind act. Cheering her up. It was practically gift wrapped. He definitely needed this chance, especially if his tea party with Mary-Ellen didn't count.

He stroked her head, thinking back to all the times he had seen parents and friends comfort the slaves he had attempted to gaslight. What were some of the things said in those moments?

"It will all look different tomorrow," he tried. Yeah, that sounded reasonable without being too icky sweet.

"Sure, I might be in juvie," Jillian sniffed.

"It can't be that bad." Another good one.

"The grownups already think I'm crazy," Jillian grumbled. "A shoplifting record will probably mean I'll be spending Christmas in the slammer."

Slappy narrowed his eyes, gripping her hair. "Hey, I will never allow that."

Jillian turned her head, blinking bitter, watery eyes at him. "Be real, Slappy. What would you even do if cops showed up to take me away?"

"If it happens, you'll see," he said, holding her gaze. "My head may be empty, but I got more brains than this whole neighborhood combined, sweet eyes."

He shifted onto his knee and brought his face closer to hers. "No doll is going to steal Jillian away from Slappy. You got that?"

Jillian sighed heavily, rolling onto her back. "My hero."

"You'd better believe it, babe."

Mary-Ellen had already cost him too much. She had compromised his good deeds, and she had messed with Slappy's property — his special property at that — more times than he could tolerate. He would finish his good deeds and get his full magic back, if only to defeat that gargoyle once and for all.

Speaking of which, I still need to cheer my girl up.

He swung himself onto the floor and shuffled to the closet. He rummaged around the back corner and hauled out a box which rattled as he moved back to Jillian on the bed. Crawling over to her, he held up the Connect Four box, shaking it.

"C'mon, let's play a game," he grinned.

"I'm not in the mood," she said, staring up at her ceiling.

"It'll take your mind off your troubles, and then you can think up plans later with a fresh mind." And if I cheer you up, that's another good deed for me, sweet eyes. "Trust me. Slappy knows best."

She sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position. They set up the apparatus and played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who went first. They both picked Rock the first time and Scissors the next — and Jillian began to smile. Just a tiny bit. Slappy correctly guessed she'd pick Rock again, so he formed Scissors and let her win.

She picked the red pieces and plopped one in the middle slot.

"Hey, Jillian," Slappy said, holding his black piece over a slot, "this is Mary-Ellen."

He brought his other hand down in a fist, striking the piece like a hammer, and the discoid hit the bottom with a satisfying sound.

That hint of a smile came back, and it was a little bigger. "And this is Katie and Amanda."

She knocked her red piece like he had done, and Slappy touched his chest.

"A ghoul after my own heart."

No sooner did her face start to brighten — no sooner did Slappy think this would be an easy good act to pull off — no sooner did he think that he liked seeing Jillian relaxed — than the door opened with a knock. Slappy quickly collapsed on his side before Mr. Zinman poked his head in.

"Hey, Noodle," the balding man said. "Can I come in?"

Jillian shrugged, moving the game to the side. Her father rose an eyebrow as he crossed over to them.

"Playing by yourself?"

"Why not?" she returned dully.

Her father smiled slightly, reaching over to pat her head. Jillian did not look at him.

"I didn't do it, Dad," she said stoutly. "I'm not stupid."

"Nope, my Noodle is a smart girl." He moved Slappy onto the pillow in order to sit beside Jillian. "I think if you were going to steal something, you would take something you would actually wear."

Jillian raised her head. "Huh?"

Although Slappy could not see Mr. Zinman's face, his voice was kind.

"Aunt Sophie told us about the item you allegedly took, Jilly. Some kind of blue thing that was several times too large for you, right?"

"I guess." To Slappy's alarm, the shadow started to creep away from Jillian's lovely eyes. "It was made for a grownup lady, I think."

"And not your style, right?"

"Nope!" A smile slowly spread.

Slappy stared at her. No, please, no, please, no...

Mr. Zinman tugged a strand of her bangs. "Your daddy didn't get where he is today by accepting everything at face value, baby girl."

But you sure didn't mind believing she could trigger a nut allergy! Slappy raged.

Mr. Zinman patted Jillian's leg. "I'm gonna go to the store to pick up some eggnog and ice cream to make milkshakes. Wanna come?"

"You sure?" Jillian asked brightly.

"It's your mother's job to make sure you grow up into a mature young woman. It's your daddy's job to make sure you remember that you're his princess."

No, no, no, NO! I'M supposed to cheer her up! Slappy fumed. Just my luck that she's a daddy's girl!

Father and daughter stood, but she pointed to the lizard cage. "You go on ahead. I gotta clean up for Petey before we leave."

"You're a good lizard mommy," said her father, clapping her shoulder lightly.

As the door shut, Slappy catapulted to a sitting position. I gotta do a good deed — just one good deed!

"I can do that for you, Jillian," he offered companionably despite the unease in his hollow body.

"Nah, Petey's my responsibility," Jillian said, already removing the top. "I wouldn't make somebody I like clean up lizard mess."

But if you only knew how doomed I'm gonna be if you don't let me do SOMETHING! he wanted to scream at her, but it was no use. He had to look away, raging and fearful.

When Jillian finished, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. She returned to grab a sweater, and she gave Slappy a parting smile.

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, buddy." She patted his arm, and her green eyes regarded him warmly, nearly driving out all the fear from Slappy's mind. "I'll bring ya back a soda."

She blew Peter a kiss and left, humming a Christmas carol. As Jillian's footsteps faded, Slappy laid his hand over the spot she had touched.

Didn't think she'd do that again so soon, he mused, remembering the previous night. In just a few days, the girl had lost all her fear of him. That had to be some kind of record.

Yet even that pleasant thought could not soothe his mind from the nagging, pertinent question. Had he managed to do another good deed despite her father's interference? Or was he still dead meat?

Slappy swung himself to the floor and strode toward Petey's cage. He had been correct in thinking it would make an excellent hiding place; Jillian had not thought to look underneath it when she had hunted for Jimmy's card.

He pushed the chair over and lifted one corner. He did not dare to raise it too high, not wanting Jillian to notice that anything shifted inside Petey's cage, and he managed to wiggle a hand beneath it and withdrew two items. The first was Jimmy's business card. He probably should have ripped it up and disposed of the pieces in the toilet; however, Slappy relished the thought of calling the geek after his victory and telling Jimmy what he had allowed to happen.

The second object was the slip of paper with the magic words. Slappy tucked Jimmy's card into his inside pocket and gripped the paper carefully. Would the words change? Or was he still cursed?

He opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Just say it, man. You did it before, he told himself. No need to wuss out over a few words.

"I'm ready to claim her," he whispered. "I'm ready to claim the one who will be my slave for life."

The ancient words remained unchanged. Slappy shoved the paper into his outer pocket.

"What is it gonna take?!" he hissed, kicking the lizard's table.

Was he saying the right words? Yes, he knew he was. He could quote his father's journal by heart. Even though his surviving siblings had tried to keep him from the toy maker's writings, that had only made Slappy more determined in his youth to remember everything.

"How's this for irony, Papa?" he muttered to himself. "You left these curses to use through me after your death, and now they're being used on us."

A rustling to his side caught his attention. Petey slunk toward him, moving like he wanted an early dinner.

"Forget it, bug breath," he sneered. "It doesn't count if I do the same good deed twice."

Petey pressed his snout to the glass, gazing up at Slappy steadily. The dummy spun away, intending to return to the bed; however, a thought stopped him.

It would make Jillian smile again.

Slappy touched his arm again, remembering Jillian's affectionate touch. Her green eyes glowed in his mind, and without another pause he grabbed the lizard chow.

He climbed up, box in hand, and he opened the lid of the tank. He shook a bit of the food in the bowl — he had learned through observing Jillian that she fed him by hand because Petey preferred it, but the lizard would eat from the bowl in Jillian's absence.

Petey looked at the bowl and then up expectantly, as if he expected Slappy to give the same special treatment Jillian showered on him.

Slappy shook his head. "Don't push your luck, pal," he grumbled, shutting the box. "The things I do for a pair of green eyes."

He leaned his elbows on the rim of the cage, already picturing Jillian's return. Maybe her eyes would light up as they did the first time Slappy fed Petey. Those pretty peepers were just the shade he liked when she was happy, like a clever toymaker had painted them on a doll's face.

Green eyes have always been my Kryptonite, he mused, remembering another pretty face from so long ago. She had green eyes too, and she could make him do almost anything she asked. Most of the time she didn't even need to threaten him.

Are you close by, sweet eyes, or am I just going crazy from this curse? Leave it to you to still be alive somehow. You were always more stubborn than me.

Petey continued to crunch, and the soft noise drew Slappy out of his curious reverie.

"If Jillian can kowtow to an ugly guy like you, imagine how well she'll serve a prince among puppets," he tittered, and he leaned over and stroked the lizard's back.

Petey arched his spine slightly, as if enjoying himself.

"You're a good boy. You're okay," Slappy murmured mockingly, straightening to return the lid to the tank — and he stopped, remembering.

He had said those words before — in the dream he had had just before Jimmy first cursed him. At that time, he had rescued a baby named Robby from choking in his crib. He had whispered soothing words to get Robby to fall back asleep — only for his doppelganger, Wally, to hang up the baby in his bedroom drapes.

Slappy hopped off the table, going over the details of that whole nightmare which garishly matched his reality. Jimmy had given him to a young girl, albeit under different circumstances. Jillian was Georgia, but feared dolls instead of loving them. Georgia had a redhead sister named Stella, but Jillian had dark-haired twin sisters. Slappy had thought Stella was sabotaging his good deeds, until he discovered another toy was alive and ruining his work. Jillian had thought the twins were sabotaging her parties at first, but then they discovered Mary-Ellen was alive and had a vendetta.

The first deed he had attempted in his dream was to clean Georgia's room, only for Wally to trash it — and Mary-Ellen had trashed the crone's doll collection and framed Jillian. The second deed in his dream had been his attempt to cheer up a girl in a wheelchair, but Wally pushed the girl down a hill — and Mary-Ellen had pushed Jillian down the stairs…

"But it's out of order," he said aloud, giving himself a shake. Mary-Ellen had pushed Jillian hours before she had vandalized the nextdoor house.

Is my dream warning me about this specific week? If so, who is the Baby Robby that I got to save? If Mary-Ellen is Wally, how does THAT GUY come into the picture?

He had assumed that Wally had represented the redheaded monstrosity, but now the board game had an extra token, and Slappy didn't know what to make of it.

"How much eggnog should we get?" Dad grinned at Jillian as they moseyed past the refrigerated goods with their shopping cart.

"How much can you carry?" Jillian beamed back.

Dad playfully looked side to side, as if checking that nobody was watching them, then quickly pulled open the door to the rows of eggnog. He retrieved two gallons, plopped them in the child seat of the basket, and innocently whistled as he pushed the cart forward.

Jillian giggled. She could not remember the last time she felt this comfortable and happy — actually, she could. Back before she had to deal with Mary-Ellen or Aunt Sophie, when the twins didn't drive her up the wall and her parents actually took her side once in a while. She had always had a special connection with Dad. He was the one Jillian turned to when she had wanted a pet lizard, and he had offered to build robot arms for Jillian's old clown costume — maybe it would have been impractical, but at least Dad had been supportive. Strolling along the freezer section with him, making a direct line for the Zinman family's favorite brand of ice cream, Jillian could almost forget the whole rotten day.

Dad doesn't give me long speeches when I didn't do anything wrong, Jillian thought, glad to have him in her corner. If only he could be on her side permanently — there had to be a way.

She tried to think like Slappy in this situation. He was good at spotting opportunities in tight corners. If he were able to speak to Dad, he would probably find some clever way to tell him about Mary-Ellen. Jillian cast about her mind for ideas, willing herself to find an opening — and all at once she came upon the most obvious.

As Dad pulled out a gallon of vanilla ice cream, Jillian asked, "Dad, why did you bring home Mary-Ellen from that yard sale?"

His brows furrowed as he tossed the gallon into the cart. "Well, I don't know. At first I was going to pass by her, but then, well, as I kept walking around the yard sale, I kept picturing how much fun the girls would have with her, and I decided to take her home. And the girls love her. It all worked out."

"Like magic?"

Dad blinked at her. Then he rubbed her head. "You're so imaginative, Noodle."

Jillian was not done. Now that she had broached the subject, she had to follow through. She took hold of the basket handle, keeping herself apace with her father.

"What if a doll could be alive, like in a horror movie?" she asked.

Dad gave a careless shrug. "Horror movies are crafted by scriptwriters to make an audience react. You can't compare it to real life."

"But what if horror movies were real? What if a doll could be alive, and she was evil? How would you get rid of her?"

Dad grew quiet. His thick fingers twitched against the cart handle, and at length he answered: "I think if I did meet a living doll who did mean things, the best thing I could do is not to answer in kind."

"What do you mean?" Jillian returned, trying to keep a flare of annoyance out of her voice.

"Maybe I would try to reason with her first. Find out why she wanted to hurt people. I may have to do what is necessary to stop her, but I wouldn't stoop to war crimes."

"War crimes?"

Dad nodded, almost sadly. "You may be at war with a country. The country may believe bad things, and you have to stand up and fight them. However, you have to behave a certain way both on and off the battlefield. You don't harm the wounded and POWs, even if the other side tries to do that to you. If you stoop to that level, how are you better?"

Jillian stared at him. "So, if an evil doll hurt me, you'd do nothing?"

Dad turned to face her. "Jillian, if anybody hurt you, you can bet your bottom dollar I'd be like a pit bull, but I want to conduct myself in a way that sets a good example for you too. I want you to be your best self and seek justice, not revenge."

"But what if the evil doll deserves everything she gets?" Jillian demanded. "What if she's a horrible person who you can't reason with? And she kept hurting people? Wouldn't you want to stop her for good?"

Dad's eyes grew wide. He and the basket came to a stop, along with Jillian. He held her gaze with a strange look of disquiet.

"Do you really think the doll is that horrible?"

Jillian's face hardened. "Even worse."

For a moment — an odd, quick moment — Dad looked sad, but then he gave a chuckle. He clapped Jillian's shoulder, giving her an affectionate shake. "You come up with interesting scenarios, Noodle. No wonder you're a good entertainer. You're great at improvising."

With a pat, he pushed the cart forward. "What's eggnog without nutmeg? We should pick up a shaker."

Jillian stood still, watching him for a few moments before she followed after him. She had a faint feeling that she missed something important just then, like she had blinked at the wrong moment, and some answer had whizzed by her. But the feeling passed, and she shook her head.

Slappy can figure it out if I tell him about it, she decided.

When a knock sounded on Jillian's door, Slappy instinctively flopped backwards against the mattress, prepared in case someone entered — and someone did. A pair of tiny feet tiptoed in, and the owner cleared her throat.

"Hi, Slappy," said the Zinman twin with the squeaky voice.

Slappy glanced toward the door, waiting to see if she had led one of the adults with her. Seeing she was alone, Slappy gave a nonplussed snicker, rising to a sitting position.

"Hi, Gross Nose," he chirped with feigned amiability.

The girl frowned. "My name's Katie."

He laid a hand by his ear. "Your name is 'Hate Me'? Okay. I'll hate you."

Katie gave a little pout, but she did not make the sort of fuss that she would have if she had been trying to get Jillian into trouble. She closed the bedroom door and stood with her hands behind her back.

"You seem like the brave type, Barf Face," Slappy smirked. "Or maybe just stupid. Not just anybody can trap themselves in a room with Slappy — and live."

He gave her a wicked grin, leaning forward as if he were about to pounce. Katie faltered for half a second before she jutted out her chin.

"Mary-Ellen said I had to come," she said in the same tone that she might have said her mother or teacher had given an order which everyone had to respect.

"A poor strategic move," Slappy retorted. "What will she do if I decide to bust a little twin's head in?"

"Mary-Ellen says that if you tried something like that, she could make it look like Jillian did it," Katie returned, narrowing her eyes.

"Not if I did it right," Slappy returned, leaning forward again, but Katie did not flinch. He settled back, folding his arms. "So, why are you wasting my time, kid?"

Katie drew herself up, hunching her little shoulders as she took a deep breath. "Mary-Ellen says… I'm on loan."

Slappy blinked at her. "Beg pardon?"

"Mary-Ellen" — she pointed toward her room — "says I'm on loan" — she pointed to Slappy — "to you."

Slappy narrowed his eyes, clicking his jaw. Did Mary-Ellen really think he was that dense?

"Well, what prompted this charitable display?" he cracked dryly. "Feeling the Christmas spirit?"

"Mary-Ellen says New Year's is just around the corner," Katie piped back. "She's willing to… to…" She knotted her little brow. "Re… ne… goaty… ate."

"Renegotiate," Slappy corrected.

"Yeah, that. She'll renegotiate for peace, and I'm on loan until you guys can talk later tonight."

Slappy wanted to snort, but his mind was already racing for solutions. He did not trust Mary-Ellen, but he instantly had an idea for how to use her scheming for a good deed. He just had to test things first.

He chipped mouth formed a smirk. "So, Katie, you're ordered to do anything I tell you?"

The little girl nodded.

Slappy's painted eyes glinted. "Then slap yourself on the face."

She looked startled. "What?"

"Slap yourself," he repeated, "on the face. If Mary-Ellen commanded you to obey me, you have to do it."

Katie looked unhappy, but she flex her fingers, screwed up her face, and flung her palm onto her cheek. The sharp sound cut through the cold air.

Slappy tutted his tongue, shaking his head. "Oh, you can do harder than that, girly."

Katie did it again, and a faint pink spot on her cheek grew redder.

"Harder."

Katie glared at him. "I'll tell Mary-Ellen on you!"

"Wuss," he threw back, but he was pleased. He knew just what to do to help Jillian. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. "Come here, Katie."

The little girl remained where she was. "Mary-Ellen says if you hurt me, she'll make it look like Jillian did it, remember?"

"I have no intention of hurting you," Slappy said. "You're going to take me downstairs real quick. Understand?"

Katie looked at him with mistrust, but she started to creep forward. "Okay. I can do that."

She reached the bed and held out her arms to take him, but Slappy shook his head, twirling his finger to indicate she spin around for him to ride piggyback. Katie obeyed, as well trained as a dog.

Oh, the irony, Mary-Ellen, Slappy thought as he climbed to his feet. Mary-Ellen probably expected him to order Katie around and make her do menial labor, which would lull him into a false sense of security for the doll to exploit. She would not be expecting Slappy to use her slave against her.

"To the kitchen first," Slappy smirked as he wrapped his arms around the unsuspecting Katie's neck. Mrs. Zinman would probably be somewhere downstairs; after they found her, Slappy could use his headlock on Katie to squeeze a confession out of her.

Jimmy said I could do some things in self-defense, and it wouldn't be evil, he grinned to himself. If he could get Katie to confess her part in Mary-Ellen's cruelties, that could take some of the heat off Jillian, and that would be another good deed.

With enough good deeds, I can move onto the next part of my plan before Jimmy casts the curse again, and then I'll be free from him forever!

Slappy indulged in a giggle and pointed toward the door. "Mush!"

Katie obeyed, crossing the floor in her Christmas socks. Slappy began to hum "Mack the Knife," wishing Jillian were around to see how sly he was being for her honor.

Katie opened the door, carrying Slappy into the hallway. He glanced around, and he nearly jolted when he saw Katie's twin standing just beside Jillian's door.

Then he saw the baseball bat in her hand, but he had no time to defend himself before she raised it and swung it at his head.

Everything went dark.