Chapter 3: The House
A bell rang above her head when she opened the door. When she saw inside, Belle blinked in stunned bemusement. Lady peaked inside and tilted her head, also looking a little stunned.
The first thing Belle noticed were the clocks. There must have been over thirty kinds of clocks hanging on the walls and standing on the many shelves. Grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, cat clocks which had tails that swayed side-to-side with each tick, clocks that were shaped like castles and houses, whose residents consisted of a male and female doll that would kiss each hour, and many more. But not only were there clocks. There were also toys of all kinds. Teddy bears, dolls, dollhouses, train sets, toy cats, dogs and other animals, etc.
The toys and clocks were all clean and lovely looking, but, strangely enough, what really held Belle's attention were the marionettes.
They might have been handmade, but they looked so beautiful. There were puppets from different time periods and countries, with clothes to match the presumed setting. Their faces all had flush painted cheeks, eternal smiles, and glossy eyeballs of all colors. The puppets were put on top of shelves, and hung on walls by their strings.
When Belle walked inside the house, she noticed a counter, which had an old, black cash register on it, near the door. She blinked at it for a few minutes, and then observed the toys, clocks and marionettes again. From what she could presume, it looked like a toy shop slash home. Yet, not only did it look like it was a toy shop, but an active toy shop. It would have been normal if there were at least some dust, or some sign of age and neglect, but there wasn't. The place was clean, as if someone was here everyday, cleaning the place up and making sure it made a good impression on visitors.
It was really eerie, at least to Belle. The image of someone already being here, yet not making their presence known sent shivers down her spine. She shouldn't be here if there was already someone else who resided here. But that didn't really match up either. According to Mayor Cogsworth, no one else was supposed to be living here.
So...why did it look that way?
Beside her, at her feet, Lady looked warily around the shop. Being a dog, she could see and hear things that Belle, an average human, couldn't (or shouldn't). Currently, though it was silent to Belle's ears, Lady could hear faint sounds of something that was either a threat, or not a threat.
All of a sudden, the room seemed to drop a few degrees, feeling almost winter-like, and Belle started to feel a little uneasy, as if she and Lady weren't alone. An icy chill ran from the base of Belle's spin, all the way up to her neck, which was dampening with a cold sweat that resulted from frazzled nerves.
...Or was it from that odd burn of someone's eyes watching you intently?
Belle's heart jumped when she heard a slight movement of wood on her left, and she whipped her head to look at the source of the sound. Lady followed the movement, her eyes narrowed and a low warning growl escaped her throat. Her haunches were raised and her legs tensed, waiting to pounce on the potential threat and attack.
Belle, on the other hand, looked relieved, for she only saw a lone puppet sitting on a top shelf. It was a puppet of a little boy with black hair, a wooden nose, dimpled cheeks and wide, glossy blue eyes...
...Which were staring straight at her...!
She shook her head and looked up at the puppet again, swallowing with some nervousness. There was no way that could be possible. It was just the paranoia of her being in a new house, that's all. As she looked at the puppet now, she saw that everything about it was completely normal.
Unfortunately, that wasn't what Lady saw...
The dog continued to glare up at the puppet boy and growl fiercely at it. Belle quirked an eyebrow at the behavior, but figured it must have been nerves as well. After one last glance at the puppet, Belle finally turned away from it and saw a door in the back of the toy shop. She had a feeling that it would lead to her to the residency part of the shop.
"Well," she said, being unnecessarily loud. "Let's go make ourselves at home at our home-away-from-home."
She walked to the door, gently pulling Lady to follow her. Lady hesitantly obeyed, allowing herself to take her eyes off the particular puppet she'd been having a staring contest with.
As they walked away, neither Belle nor Lady noticed that those same eyes followed their movement, with an expression that could only best be described as curiosity...
As he opened the door, he was immediately greeted with a blanket of icy cold air.
But he didn't mind. The cold had no negative effect on him. Actually, he could say that he joyfully welcomed the cold, for it was much more useful than warmth. When it was warm, a fresh corpse would rot an bloat up faster, quickly losing it's lovely post-mortem glow, and gaining that customary rank stench that is associated with decaying corpses.
However, when it is cold a body can stay as nice as it looked when it had first died.
He knew that particular joy all too well.
With a wide, almost giddy grin, he walked to where his lovely new toy was.
The boy was currently hanging by his neck on a meat hook from the ceiling. His blood had long frozen and coagulated on his frozen, young, dead body. His head had lolled forward, his red hair covering his frozen face of death.
The murderer smiled, almost tenderly, as he gently cupped the dead boy's chin and lifted it so he could stare into those eyes, those lovely green eyes that were now as blank and glassy as a doll's....
He had been a fighter, but he had gone down like his predecessors, as to be expected. Still, breaking him had been much more work than the murderer expected. In his opinion, those two weeks and two days of torturing the child had been too long for comfort. Though the breaking and killing was as sweet of a taste as it had always been, the experience had served to remind the murderer that he was ten years out of practice.
The blame also laid with the child, the murderer had concluded. The boy had been too stubborn, too cocky to show his fear. He had fixed that though, the murderer reminded himself. Like the children before him, the boy had been broken, both mentally and physically. It just took longer to do than the killer expected.
The next one would be easier, but oh so satisfying.
Oh, yes...
But before that, he'd have to make room for the new target.
The murderer took out the huge black plastic bag he was carrying, and put it on the metal table in the middle of the cold room. He grasped the corpse gently, removed the corpse from the hook and gently slid it inside the bag, which was luckily big enough to be longer than the boy's height.
As he slung the corpse over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the murderer walked out of the room and slammed the steel door, punching in the security code. Then he proceeded to walk down to his basement, humming a cheerful tune.
It was time to let everyone in Fantasia know that his decade long hiatus was over.
Belle was in her new bedroom when she heard the front doorbell ring. She had just been unpacking her things, but stopped when she realized that someone was waiting for her to open the door. She walked back down the stairs to the shop and opened the door.
Standing there was a woman who looked like she was in her early thirties, who had crossed her arms and was looking to the side, looking impatient. She had a heart shaped face, ruby red lips and sultry, cat-like violet eyes. Her long brown hair was tied into a high ponytail and her bangs shadowed a side of her face. Though she was thin, she had an hourglass figure that was shown more with her tight, purple blouse and denim jeans.
Belle blinked when the woman didn't notice her. She looked annoyed, if that look in her dazed eyes was anything to go by. The last thing Belle wanted to do was annoy someone, but she took it upon herself to be the first of the two of them to speak.
"Uh...hi?"
The woman turned around and saw her, then smiled at Belle awkwardly. "Hi, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. So...welcome!"
She waved at Belle, her smile strained. Belle returned the smile, though her's was also a little awkward. The woman was obviously not a people person, at least when it came to new people, and Belle understood that, so she didn't take any offense.
The woman faltered when she noticed the awkwardness between the two of them, and sighed.
"Okay, look little missy," she said in a demanding tone. "I am not a people person, but the mayor actually asked me to give you a more in depth tour through our joyful little town. You know, show you the sights, the people, the places, yadda, yadda, yadda...You with me so far?"
Belle nodded politely.
The woman clapped, smiling broadly, her voice tinted with something akin to sarcasm. "Great! Fantastic! Okay, so the point I'm getting to is that I'm not exactly Ms. Friendly, so if I seem a little...obnoxious, then I apologize in advance."
"It's okay," Belle replied.
The woman nodded and reached her hand out for Belle to shake, which she did, grasping the woman's hand firmly.
"Name's Megara," she winked. "But my friends call me Meg…or at least they would, if I had any friends."
Though Belle wasn't completely sure if the last part was serious or not, so she did her best to suppress the chuckles that threatened to escape her mouth. There was something about Meg's deep, sly, sarcastic voice that made almost anything she said sound humorous.
She smiled genially. "I'm Belle, or Bells to my friends. Either way is fine with me."
Meg smiled tentatively, feeling a little happy that the "new girl" found her joke funny. If they actually got along in this little venture, then that would make this whole tour guide thing easier. So, she let out the breath she was holding and turned around, looking back at Belle over her shoulder.
"So, where would you like to go first?" she asked. "The music café? City Hall? A shop? Either way, you can be assured that any place we go to is bound to be fun and exciting."
Belle thought for a moment. She did want to check out that bookshop she had seen on the way to the house, but then she was begrudgingly reminded that she was here on a mission. She had to get information on this child murder case. Her very career was depending on this!
Well, okay, perhaps not so much her career. More like her need to get rid of the monotony of romance novels.
But here raises a question: how was she going to get information on the case? Belle supposed she could search the library for news clippings and such, but the case wasn't that old, so she could actually hear about it from people who had lived in this town while the murders happened. The problem was how to voice the question, or how to find a person willing to discuss the case. A policeman might not want to dig up details on a case that was a good twenty odd years old. And many townspeople might want to avoid the subject, for obvious reasons.
Still, Belle thought she had to at least try.
The question was, where?
Belle thought for a few moments, and then smiled when she came up with an idea. It was odd how it popped up there, like someone shoved it in there, but the urge was very strong. Belle knew that she had to go there.
"How about that café you mentioned?"
Meg quirked an eyebrow and smirked, putting her fists on her hips. "A singer, huh?"
"Not really, but a friend of mine is," she shrugged. "I'm just an average music lover."
"Alright, the café it is," Meg nodded, satisfied and gestured to her purple Corvette, which was parked across from the house. "Let's get going."
Belle immediately followed.
He stood in front of the attic window, watching both her and Meg interact. He blinked his eyes, feeling more and more curious about the stranger.
He couldn't help but feel that there was something about her.
He could hear her dog downstairs, pacing and whining. He knew that it wasn't hurt, or hungry. It was worrying about him and what he was, what he could do to her master.
Not that there was anything to fear about him, he knew. He was just curious, that's all.
He jumped up onto the windowsill so he could get a better view of the stranger, (Belle was her name, wasn't it…?) and stared down at her as she followed Meg to her car. He hummed softly to himself, cupping his chin thoughtfully.
Could it be that she is…?
When he saw that she was gone, he jumped down from the window and smiled, despite himself. He felt that familiar rush of hope swell within him, making him almost feel alive again. He knew that it was probably too soon to expect the un-expectable, but he couldn't suppress it. He put his hands behind his back, cupping them over each other, and started skipping around the attic room, taking care not to make too much noise. That would just panic the dog.
Instead, he started to hum a familiar, childhood tune as he skipped around the room. Soon the humming became words, though they were sung in a soft voice, following the lighthearted melody.
"When you wish upon a star…
"Makes no difference who you are…"