The Doll House

The Doll House
by Maita Rue

Genre: Horror
Archetypes: Evil Albino, Ingénue
Keys: Betrothal or Contract, Cries in the Night, Split Personality, Grandfather Clock, Arabian Perfume, Transformation

“What is happening? Where am I?” She felt like there was cotton in her mouth and throat, but she managed to talk. Her eyes focused on the dim, dingy room. Something had happened to her. She felt woozy. Was she drugged? The room was spinning.
There was pain everywhere. She didn’t want to move. She just wanted to go home and lie down. Angelique tried to focus on her vision. Everything was dim, and she didn’t recognize where she was.
“This is the Doll House. You mustn’t tarry. He’ll be back soon, and he expects his new doll to be perfect,” Nola said. She was not gaily dressed. She was modestly dressed instead.
“D-doll?”
“That is what we are. As stated, this is the Doll House.” It was then that Angelique noticed Nola’s fingers. They were wooden and worn, like an old doll’s finger. The woman before her had a faded wig on her and a painted face. When she moved, it was as if it was the wind-up dolls her father bought her. Except this doll was as big as her.
Angelique looked down at her own hands. They were folded on her lap. With no gloves, she could see that they were not wood like Nola’s but of ceramic. She looked at the mirror, trying to see what was different about herself. Her hair was still there, but it was curled and arranged like a cherub doll. There was rouge on her face. Looking down, she couldn’t see her legs. Oh, gray heavens! She couldn’t feel her legs.
Angelique raised her arms. They were lanky and uncooperative, but they were not her arms, for she could not feel them.
She looked back up at the mirror in disbelief. Realization dawned on her what a doll was. It was no rumor but a horrific reality. They have cut her extremities and replaced them with doll parts, large human-sized doll parts.
She was now a doll.

Les Halles Market was a cathedral of commerce. Angelique de Padua whirled here and there. There was so much to see. There were food items, trinkets, machinery and tools. People went about their business. Women and wives shopped for produce. Men bought merchandise. Business was booming here. The dusk settled to night, and a thousand gas lamps lit the steel structure overhead. It was a sight to behold.
She felt her hand snatched from behind. Before she screamed, she saw that it was only Wolfgang. “Oh! You scared me,” she huffed.
“Angel, what are you doing here?” He was always a serious gentleman, always tinkering away. She wished he’d be more jolly like his grace the Duc de Belleblanc. Her father’s friend was a jolly young fellow and gave compliments freely. Her Wolfgang was different. He was always focused. Perhaps, that was what attracted her to her little tinker. “Don’t you know it is dangerous to go about on your own? The daily papers are saying women of the streets are being snatched.”
“Only the doxies. Nobody would snatch a free person. I am a citizen. Besides, I want to see your workshop,” she answered.
“It is dirty and dingy but I can see you won’t stop searching this market until you find it.”
She smiled. “I won’t stop searching. I’d love to see your work.”
Wolfgang led her to a quieter corner of the market. It was near the back exits. Heavy machineries trudged up and down. His little workshop was tucked at the back, a small square room with no fancy gadgets, only his tools and his working table. “This is it.”
The lights were dim. Only a concentrated light lamp stood nearest his work desk. Everything else was cloaked in darkness.
“You know, Wolfgang, the people of the Republique has gone into Maximalist design. Some would even borrow designs elements from the orient,” she pointed out. “A few throw rugs and settee would work marvelous here.”
“What would I do with those?”
“Nothing,” she smiled. “It is for me when I visit your workshop.”
He sighed. “Je t’aime, Angelique, but when we marry, you will not be in my workshop. It is far too dangerous. Things explode, thieves lurk about. I’d like to make sure you’d be happy at home playing with my version of dolls.”
She made a face. “I’m too old for dolls.”
He smiled that boyish smile she loved so dearly. She wished he smiled more often. “Not my kind of dolls. My kind are the ones the world will come to know and love. I shall gift you one now. I know your birthday isn’t for another two months.”
“Je t’aime, Wolfgang, but you don’t have to buy me with gifts,” she pointed out.
“I know but that’s all I can give as a token of my affection.”
She shook her head. “My father will understand. It is your good name that he wishes not your non-existent wealth. We have plenty enough.”
The French Liberation War had not spared his family. His grandfather, the Marquis de Chats, was a hero of the war thanks to his automata army but he refused to use his creations to fight the men of the revolution. He stated that he would not spill French blood. But his blood was spilled instead.
Now, Wolfgang Achilles Bellamy was a young inventor and people recognized the same tinker in him as in his grandfather. Although a man of eighteen years of age, he had sold, built and fixed complex equipment in his tiny market stall. All his money was being put into his new venture. For now, he lived modestly.
After the revolution or the French Liberation War, royalty was no longer in effect. The Republique was everything. Titles meant nothing unless backed by money. For money was the only freedom for the post-revolutionary French citizens.
“Give me a few more months, my angel, and I will have something to show your father,” he promised.
“Silly boy, I care for naught but your love. Come, show me this gift.”
Wolfgang took an ebony box from the corner. It was glossy and was clearly made with care. He opened the box and out hopped a bird. The bird flew to Angelique’s shoulders and sang a melody.
“It is an automaton?” She was surprised at such delicate details. Nobody has achieved such a small and fine automaton as this. Most automatons were big and bulky. His own grandfather had the smallest and finest automatons but they were the size of a tall man. This was unique and very small, the shape and size of a hummingbird.
“Stroke it’s head like so,” he showed her how. “Speak and it shall hear your voice and carry it to me. I shall stroke its chin and your voice is loud to hear.”
“Wolfgang, it is lovely!”
Wolfgang, it is lovely!
Angelique gasped. “It mimicked my voice perfectly! How marvelous!”
“If you stroke its chest, it will sing you to sleep. If you stroke its back, it will come to me, and I shall send it with a message of my own. Je t’aime, Angelique.”
Je t’aime, Angelique.
“Oh, how marvelous! I can’t wait to send you my voice!”
“I shall escort you home, Angelique. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He led Angelique out of the market and walked her back to her home. Even the glamorous lights of Paris hid secrets in the dark.
They walked in silence, enjoying their company. It was a way to get to Rue d’Stephania, where the de Paduas lived.
“Marquis de Chats, a pleasure to see you again,” Angelique’s father said when he greeted them at the door. He was not happy to see Angelique out and about. Wolfgang understood. Paris was unsafe at the moment.
“Monsieur de Padua, good evening.” Wolfgang bowed. When he was sure Angelique was safely in the house, he went back to Le Halles.

Devils, ghosts, demons, ghouls, and other horrors you can imagine may not be equal to a doll. When people see a doll, they look away, afraid of what they might see. Horror. That is what they know about a doll. They see the discards of humanity trapped in a shell. Can a doll harm them? No, but it is what the doll represents that horrifies the Belle Parisian.
The blond doll was discarded as a toy when it was cracked and unattractive, but this doll was still attractive. Her flaxen hair was mussed and wild, but it still showed like gold. Her wooden legs were bent but could still be fixed. Although he heard the sounds of a clockwork heartbeat, there were only echoes. It was her eyes that told him that this doll’s life was at an end.
What a travesty! A beautiful girl was snatched on the street, turned into an abomination, used, then discarded. That was not the worst part. The worst part was when society looked away.
He watched from the shadows as the constable covered the doll with a dirty rag as if the body was really a proverbial broken doll. He could see that this woman was unlike the other discarded doll. She was not a street urchin or a dockside-painted lady. This doll was much too clean and refined for that. Whoever she was, they would never know her, would never find her.
She was just a discarded doll.

In his stall, his valet waited in the shadows. The aged half-automaton was silent, but the Marquis always knew when he was there. Exter had an uncanny ability to blend into the shadows. He told Wolfgang that it was a practiced skill.
“The world is changing before our eyes,” the living automaton said. “But something dark is looming in the steam.”
Wolfgang sighed. “Must you be so cryptic?” He swore the man had a flair for the dramatics.
“Pardone moi. I have seen something disturbing.” His voice stated the truth.
Wolfgang frowned. “What is it, Exter? Was it as we feared?”
“Worse, my lord. They found another body.”
The Marquis gasped. “Another?” So far, there were seventeen bodies Exter has discovered, but they didn’t know how long this operation started. There could have been hundreds of dolls discarded. Some of the bodies were taken by the constabulary to discard discretely while some were tossed in the Seine River, where no traces would ever be seen.
“She’s clean and golden,” Exter said grimly. “She was no doxy either.”
“I must see the body.”
Exter, his faithful valet, escorted him to the scene off the banks of the Seine. They lurked in the shadows and observed a doll among the trash of Parisian society. She was dumped here, hoping the constabulary would clean up and the people of the city would be none the wiser.
“The constables have been called. We have mere minutes.”
Wolfgang crouched below. He frowned. This girl was beautiful and very young. If he was not mistaken, the girl was no more than fourteen. She was pale, with golden hair, and youthful. Her limbs were broken. There were signs of trauma but that is not what killed her. She was used and discarded as if she were a toy now she was rubbish. Whatever befell her, it was not good.
“They are here. Let us retreat,” Exter said. He and Wolfgang entered the shadow. They entered the sewers and rode a boat back to his workshop. While in the sewers, he had to vomit. Not because of the sewer’s filth but because of the state of the doll he saw.
“She is so young, Exter. Who could be making these?” Tears fell freely as he could only cry for the dead girl.
“I know not but it is a travesty, a heresy to all doll makers. This rogue doll maker, he is getting bolder and bolder. That girl is a lady of refinement. I heard of tales that harvesters have moved up from the slums to the tenement to the chateau. This does not bode well for Paris.” Not at all. Worse, the constabulary has opted to keep the public blind.
“Her limbs, this rogue really wanted to turn them into dolls! It is disgusting. My grandfather would have put a stop to this. So will I.”
“No, you will not. I will personally find out, my lord,” Exter promised.
“But you are doing so much already,” Wolfgang pointed out.
Exter knocked on his chest. “My automatic heart can take it. You, my lord, must continue on our venture. The bank will be releasing the funds you will need to purchase the theatre. Concentrate on that while I track this rogue doll maker.”
Wolfgang nodded. He turned to the lone grandfather clock in the corner of his workshop. It was no ordinary grandfather clock. It was also a tool closet. This was his only inheritance from his grandfather, one he so cherished.
The theatre was the venture he wanted to work at. This will give them the income he needs to fill his coffers and live out a life of luxury with Angelique. First, he had to earn for the venture.

As Europe fell into Pax Industrial, the people of gay Paris were entering La Belle Industria. The industrialization was not only good for business but also for the entertainment business. But beneath this gas-lit glamor is a dark secret. There was a rumor that the women of the streets were being snatched by the Doll Maker, a seedy man who turns women and sometimes young men into living marionettes or “dolls.”
But whoever this Doll Maker was, he was a rogue. To be turned into a doll was a fate worse than death for you would live forever but devoid of freedom. Exter wondered what his end game was.
Exter wound his way around the city. He had the shadows to hide in. Carefully, he crept into the city morgue. He had examined the dolls that were discarded. The bodies were piled on a table. There were three dolls that haven’t been discarded yet. These dolls would be tossed into the incinerator when nobody was looking. There would be no traces. Paperwork will be tossed as well.
They were humans once but whoever this doll maker was, he had replaced a number of their parts with metal and wood. He was not so skilled in his work that he left a signature. Whoever this doll maker was, he couldn’t make limbs as limber or as fine as the old Marquis could. Was this on purpose? To make the women look and move like Marionettes? Or is this his flaw?
He had to find out who this doll maker was. To turn young girls into dolls was a travesty but to do it against their will was pure evil. There weren’t many who had abilities like he and the Marquis had so the clues might lead him to the man soon.

It had been two weeks since he visited Angelique. She sent her mechanical hummingbird often, sending him short messages. He, in turn, sent his messages with love and a small trinket. It was late one night when the bird came but with a chilling message instead of the one he usually expected.
Wolfgang! Help! They are in my room! Help! They’re here to get me! Help! Somebody!
Blast! He expected to see Exter but Exter was busy hunting up this doll maker. Wolfgang got up and raced to Angelique’s house. He ran fifteen blocks to get to her front door. When he got there, he knocked on the door, not caring if it would be construed as rude. He had to get to Angelique.
“My lord, the household is indisposed,” the butler told him.
“Angelique! Something has happened to her! Let me in! I must see Monsieur de Padua,” he insisted.
“My lord!” He spotted Angelique’s eldest sister, Monique. “My lord, something has happened.”
Not caring of the butler, Wolfgang stepped inside and went to Monique. She collapsed on the foot of the stairs crying. “It’s the harvester! I saw them! They were here in our house. They took Angelique.”
“What did they look like?” Wolfgang had never seen the harvesters.
“Men, tall, dressed in black. They had masks like a doll’s masks. They broke through the window and pointed to Angelique and they took her! They took her!”
“There, there, Monique. I shall find her but how did this come about? They broke through the window?”
The girl shook her head. “Father was having dinner with the Duc de Belleblanc last night so the servants were busy. We were eating upstairs. Angelique was punished for having words with her father. She was sent to her room without food. I came to bring her some soup. That was when…” She began to sob again. “They must have entered through the back doors and ran up the stairs.”
The Marquis frowned. “Last night? Why weren’t the papers told?” It wasn’t in the newspapers. “Were the constabulary called?”
“Father said this was a family matter. He’d find her himself but he can’t! I know what they say! The servants said that once the harvesters take a girl, they are never seen again! Their organs are sold and their flesh is sold to the flesh market! Angelique!”
“You there! Who are—oh, my lord, it is you. We are indisposed at the moment,” Monsieur de Padua said when he realized it was Wolfgang.
“Monsieur, I heard. Please, I want to help search for Angelique.” He didn’t know where to begin but this must be the place to start.
“Leave it to me, lad. This is a family matter. I must search myself. In the meantime, please help me comfort my daughter. She in inconsolable.” He indicated Monique.
“Shall I get you something? Smelling salts, a drink?”
Monique shook her head. “Please, help me up to my room. I think I need a lie-down,” she said.
Wolfgang carried her up the stairs with her father looking on. She indicated to the far door. When he deposited her on the door front, she pulled him in. They were alone and out of earshot. “A moment, my lord,” she whispered.
He entered the room, mindful that it was not good form to enter a lady’s room. “Last night, when the harvesters took my sister, I smelled a strange odor. My father dismisses it but I think you should know. It was a fragrance, strong like those of the male aristocrats wear.”
“Cologne water?” He inquired. Most gentlemen would have worn them because their barbers would dab them after a shave.
Monique shook her head. “It is stronger like the ones the duke wears. I smelled it before in my father’s friends. Most older gents wear it.”
He understood. The older aristocrats have started to take to a new fad: Arabian perfume. It was expensive and had a strong and distinctive odor. “I’ll find her, Monique.”
“I think father has given up finding her. He wants you to marry me, you know that,” she whispered.
He nodded. He knew the merchant wanted his daughters to be titled. Since Monique was the eldest, Monsieur de Padua wanted her to have the title first.
“I am in love with the Duc de Belleblanc. Father doesn’t want me to marry him. He said he would not ask for me. Please find my sister. He will insist I marry you if she is not found. No, that is not just it,” she said. “I do love her so. You must find her. She talks about your love. I know it is true. Find her, my lord,” she sobbed.
“I will find her. I promise,” he said. He kissed Monique’s hand and left the de Padua house.

Wolfgang was conflicted. Where would he start? The hummingbird! He took the bird hiding behind his ears. “Angelique, I shall find you! Where are you?” He stroked the bird’s back.
The little hummingbird took off. He raced to follow the bird. It was harder than he imagined. He made the bird to be small and fast. It whizzed through the rooftops and he lost it near Chateau de Bumbille, a red light district.
“Blast!” He tried to find the bird. He had to find her! Wolfgang felt so useless. He felt so helpless!

Inside the Doll House

Angelique felt in and out of consciousness. She was feverish. At times, she felt she was struggling even to breathe but her hands weighed her down. She was losing something. What? Her head felt fuzzy. Wolfgang… where are you?
“Open your eyes,” the voice told her.
Angelique slowly woke. She felt so heavy and muddled. It was as if she was weighed down by sand. She tried to move her arms but she couldn’t.
“Open your eyes,” the voice repeated.
She opened her eyes. She was in a dim room but there were lights, artificial dim lights. A mirror stood just a ways off. She could see herself. It felt unfamiliar. She was dressed in a costume that rivaled those of the women of Moulin Rouge. Her hair was arranged with feathers and her arms were gloved.
“Be ready in an hour. I’ll come back by then.” The man left her. She wondered how she stayed upright. She wanted to lie down and fall back asleep.
Hands helped her to a settee. “You must try your best to please Monsieur Benign. He is a hard taskmaster and he makes life hard.”
“Who are you?” Angelique asked.
“My name is Nola Bernardine.”
“Bernardine?”
“I heard him call you Angelique. How fitting. He has dressed you in white,” Nola said.
“What is happening? Where am I?” She felt like there was cotton in her mouth and throat but she managed to talk. Her eyes focused on the dim, dingy room. Something had happened to her. She felt woozy. Was she drugged? The room was spinning.
There was pain everywhere. She didn’t want to move. She just wanted to go home and lie down. Angelique tried to focus on her vision. Everything was dim and she didn’t recognize where she was.
“This is the Doll House. You mustn’t tarry. He’ll be back soon and he expects his new doll to be perfect,” Nola said. She was not gaily dressed. She was modestly dressed instead.
“D-doll?”
“That is what we are. As stated, this is the Doll House.” It was then that Angelique noticed Nola’s fingers. They were wooden and worn, like an old doll’s finger. The woman before her had a faded wig on her and a painted face. When she moved, it was as if it was the wind-up dolls her father bought her. Except, this doll was as big as her.
She looked down at her hands. They were folded on her lap. With no gloves, she could see that they were not wood like Nola’s but of metal. She looked at the mirror, trying to see what was different about herself. Her hair was still there but it was curled, arranged like a cherub doll. There was rouge on her face. Looking down, she couldn’t see her legs. Oh, grey heavens! She couldn’t feel her legs.
Angelique raised her arms. They were lanky and uncooperative but they were not her arms for she could not feel them.
She looked back up at the mirror in disbelief. Realization dawned on her what a doll was. It was no rumor but a horrific reality. They have cut her extremities and replaced them with doll parts, large human-sized doll parts.
She was now a doll.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” She screamed and screamed, her voice reverberating around the room. They had done something to her voice that made it louder and projected. She was a monstrous thing! They have turned her into a monster.
“Hush! Hush! Monsieur Benign will hear you! He’ll hurt you!” Nola tried to calm her but Angelique was inconsolable. “He will turn you off with the key!”
“Shut it or I’ll shut you,” Monsieur Benign came in through the door and shouted.
Nola shuddered. Angelique cowered but she still cried. Her movements were shaky, afraid. Her limbs were uncooperative but she tried to curl into a ball.
“Do not be so hasty, Jean,” a masked man appeared and told Monsieur Benign. “She is but a scared little girl. Leave her with me.”
Monsieur Benign bowed. “Of course Lord la Belle.” He left the masked man with the dolls.
“I want to go home,” Angelique cried.
Lord la Belle approached her. He was a man of average size and build. A mask covered his face. “My pretty Angel, this is your new home now. Sing for me and I shall make sure you are taken care of.” He turned to Nola. “Take care of her. You know what I want. She’s started as a nightingale.”
“Yes, my lord,” Nola said.
“If she fails, Benign will withhold the key.”
Nola shuddered visibly. “Yes, my lord.”
When Lord la Belle left, she turned to Angelique. “You are fortunate he has turned you into a nightingale. The doves and the peacocks are not so lucky. Nightingales sing and entertain only. Doves and Peacocks, they are engaged in the flesh trade.”
Angelique gasped. She was not exposed to such. This was too much for her to comprehend. Even as La Belle wore black, Angelique could feel something dark in him. His voice, calm and reassuring, felt fake.
“You are a lady of breeding and class. I don’t know why the harvesters took you. They usually take the ladies who are not missed. Surely somebody will miss you.”
Yes, many will miss her. Her family, her Wolfgang… She prayed he’d find her and soon. If not, she would waste away. She knew she would.
“What did he mean when he said he’d withhold the key?” The man’s cryptic words scared her.
“We are dolls now. To move our limbs, he must wind us every day. If he withheld the key, it means he will not wind us and we cannot move. Some dolls cannot even breathe when unwound,” Nola explained. “Sleep, my angel, I will take care of you. I promise.”

It’s been five weeks! Wolfgang wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the whole of Paris. He was frustrated. Even Exter cannot find a trace of Angelique. He couldn’t find any sign of the harvesters or the hummingbird. Every minute Angelique was missing, he knew it would not bode well. Exter has seen more discarded dolls in the Seine and in the back alleys of Paris. Still, nobody was talking about it. It was as if Paris had swept them under the rug.
But each doll discovered brought him dread. He prayed that the dolls they found were not Angelique but was devastated for the girl discarded. He vowed this will not be her fate.
One night, he received a message from Monique. A cook’s boy ran to his market stall to tell him she had to meet him at the back door. He rushed to see her, hoping for news. She was waiting in the back door of their house. In the front door, Monsieur de Padua was leaving for a night jaunt.
“Monique? I got your message. Have you any news?” He asked.
“Come here! I don’t want Father to hear. I do not know where she is but I have something terrible to tell you,” Monique said. She was clearly troubled. “I’ve had words with father last night. All this time, he wasn’t searching for Angelique. I wanted to go to the constable and tell them. I even wanted to tell the duke when he visited but father wouldn’t let me. We had words and the truth came out,” she cried.
“What is it?”
“He sold her,” Monique sobbed. “My father sold her!”
Wolfgang frowned. He held Monique. “What do you mean, he sold her?”
“We are not rich. We were but money ran out. Father owed people money. Everything you see is just for show. We haven’t a penny! He sold Angelique to the harvesters to pay off some debts! He told me so. That is why he never searched for her. He knew we would never see her again. He is cruel, Wolfgang!”
Wolfgang wanted to hit the man, to shake some sense into him. “His own daughter!”
“We are just toys to him. We will be used to pay off debts,” she sobbed.
“Did he say to whom he sold her?”
“La Belle Doll House, do you know it?”
He shook his head. “But I will find it. Stay here. When I find her, I’ll come for you and your sisters!”

Wolfgang ran back to his workshop. Exter was sitting on the worktable. Immediately, the Marquis took a special oilcan from his grandfather’s clock and oiled his half-automaton valet. Normally Exter didn’t trust anyone with this but he trusted Wolfgang and his grandfather.
“La Belle Doll House. De Padua sold his daughter to La Belle Doll House,” he told Exter.
“I have heard whispers of it. It is accessible through the sewers and it leads you to the forbidden side of the catacombs. Men of money come and go, availing of the illicit. The exact location is only known to the few.”
“You must take me there.”
“You think our doll maker resides there?”
“Positively. You and I must take down this doll maker.”
Exter shook his head. “My lord, I cannot risk you. I promised your grandfather that whatever happens, my life for yours if need be, but you must stay safe.”
“I must do this, Exter. My life is Angelique. If I do not rescue her, I have no life. Without Angelique, all my plans are for nothing.”
“You must know by now that she has been turned into an abomination. A doll does not last long,” his valet pointed out.
“All the more we have to rescue her and the soonest. Please, Exter, take me there. Between you and I, we can rescue her,” Wolfgang pleaded.
“All you have to do is order me to do so. To beg is unbecoming of a Marquis,” Exter said.
“You know you are more to me than a mere valet. Come, I must make sure I’ll have weapons to defend myself,” Wolfgang knew how to make gauntlets that could defend him.
“No, my lord, your only defense is to look like a fop and play a role. Leave the defenses to me.”

Angelique sang and danced the whole night. She’d been doing so for weeks. There was no rest except during the day. In the beginning, Angelique refused to perform for the crowd. Monsieur Benign withheld the key for the day. It was hell in her own body. She could not walk, not raise her arms, not even talk. She was imprisoned in her own body. After a while, she felt that even breathing became labored. She could not seem to suck in the air. After that night, she had become as meek as a lamb, following orders, pleasing Benign and La Belle.
During the day, she had a hard time caring for herself. Her limbs were hard to move, especially since she could not feel them. Nola helped her. She had wooden doll hands but she made sure to be gentle in cleaning and feeding Angelique. Nola doesn’t perform although she said she used to. She was aged but no less beautiful.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Nola, but I feel every day I’m here I wither away.” Angelique was paler now and she was lethargic. If not for her doll extremities, she would not stand on her own. “I cannot seem to breathe.”
“I shall open a window. We have a pipe here that takes in air from the world outside.” She opened the pipe and air came in the channel.
“Thank you, Nola. You are kind to me.”
“I wish I could help you escape but I cannot. My fate is to die here. When I’m used up, I shall be discarded like the others.”
“You’re the oldest doll here. The others, they come and go,” Angelique noticed.
Nola shook her head. “Do not take note of these. You will not like it. As for me, I made a deal with Lord La Belle. I promised to take care of the dolls here. Monsieur Benign has no patience to care for the girls. When I’m at the end of my life, I’d be discarded like the others.”
Angelique gasped. “Do not say that. You have been like a mother to me these weeks. If you die, I shall as well!”
“What happened to your mother?”
The young doll frowned. “My mother? She drowned in the Seine River years ago. We’ve never recovered the body but it has been years. I miss her so.”
“Drowned?”
Angelique nodded. “Her name was Bernardine, like your last name.”
“I wish your life was different, angel.” A knock sounded but it came from the pipe. “Something is stuck in the tube.”
She opened the hatch and a tiny metallic contraption fell out. It hopped and buzzed and went to Angelique. “My hummingbird!” She immediately stroked the bird’s chin.
Angelique, I shall find you! Where are you?
At that point, Angelique wanted to cry. Her Wolfgang was out there looking for her. She just had to hold on. “Wolfgang, they have us underground. At night, they make us sing and dance on stage with many lights, electrical lights. They use a lot of smoke and mirrors. Men are drinking a lot of wine. Please find me. Save me! I’ll only live for you!” She then took the bird and stroked its back. She prayed Wolfgang could find her wherever she was. She only knew that she was underground and bad men watched her every night. The clues on the stage man or may not help but she hoped, prayed, wished.

The catacombs were lined with skulls. Rows upon rows of skulls from the eras of plague. Would this befall the women of Paris? The low drafts that drifted in the air made things eerie. It felt like whispers in his face, whispers of death.
Angelique’s message gave them a general direction as to where the Doll House was located. Electrics were new and had to connect somewhere. He couldn’t believe where it connected but the fact that it connected to the Duc de Belleblanc’s house did not bode well. The duke was well connected. The duke was a trader. It seems mirrors and wine is his most lucrative merchandise.
“I heard rumors that his father was a tinker. A carriage accident had killed the man and maimed the son. The strange thing is, they were not able to recover the father’s body,” Exter said. Could he be the Doll Maker?
They pressed on until they came upon a large cavern. In the middle of the cavern was an imposing house-like structure. Like the proverbial doll house, it had lattices, painted roofs, and walls, and was whimsical. But this was not some innocent doll house. The garish colors hid something dark inside.
Exter knocked on the door. The peephole opened and demanded to know who was inside.
“The Marquis de Chats and his humble valet,” Exter announced.
The man behind frowned but opened the door. “New customer, my lord?”
“Very new,” Wolfgang answered. He was dressed like a foppish dandy. His hair was curled and styled. A hat sat upon his head. His cape had dainty lace trims like a lady’s but denoted men of genteel birth.
“Come in. You are just in time for the show.” Exter was led to a waiting room where valets and manservants waited. The Marquis was led to the theatre.
Wolfgang was trying to act calm and collected. It would do no good to be fidgety. But he wanted to act straight away. Somewhere in this building was Angelique.
The doorman gave him a white mask. “Everybody wears a mask inside, my lord, even when they shag.”
The Marquis took the offending mask and put it on. So, he thought, the men who attended this sort of show had anonymity. Who would he encounter from society? He might not have heard about society much but he knew he would recognize aristocracy.
He was right. There was a theatre-style room with a hundred men and women in the audience. They all had masks but Wolfgang recognized a lot of them. Not many aristocracy but many rich bourgeoisie.
The curtain drew and then a lone angel on the stage was spotlighted. Music began and she swayed, danced ballet, and sang.
“Angelique,” he gasped.
The doll on stage swayed as if strings gave it life. He knew she loved to dance. That was how they met, at a gala. On occasions when he was invited to their house, Angelique was usually called on to sing after dinner.
But the doll on stage lacked life and love. Her movements were mechanical. Her stick-like legs swayed but without grace. He knew he had to get her out. Tonight! There is no other time.
When the curtains were closing, he whispered to the mechanical hummingbird. “Angelique, I am here. Be ready to escape.” He let the bird go to Angelique as the curtains were closing. He hoped she would be able to get the message.
When the show ended, the guests were led to a ballroom where more dolls came to entertain them. Some dolls served food while some came to dance with them. There were some dolls that came to entice him.
Wolfgang was feeling dizzy. There was something in the air, something in the strobing lights, something in the thick patterns of the drapes…
He felt his hand pulled and he was led to the side. He was able to breathe better away from the crowd. “My dear Marquis, do not breathe deep. There is incense in the air masked by Arabian Perfume. After breathing long, you will be addicted to this place, your inhibitions will be lowered and your taste for dolls will grow,” the doll that pulled him away said.
He pulled his kerchief and covered his nose. He then turned to look at the doll. She was old, and worn in more ways than one. She was once beautiful, that he could see. Now, she was used up.
“Angelique is at the Back Wing. She’ll be auctioned in the Clock Room tonight. Lord La Belle will turn her from nightingale to dove tonight. Do you understand what that means?” The doll asked him. “If Lord La Belle plays with a doll, she gets broken and tossed.”
Wolfgang frowned. “I have to be there.” He turned to the doll. “Thank you, madam. Please escape now. My valet and I will rescue Angelique.”
She nodded and slipped into the crowd. Wolfgang made his way to the arch entries that led to different rooms. Each room in the doll house was labeled at the door. There was a drinks room, a cards room, and several bedding rooms. Dread began to creep into him. This doll house was a maze.
He was finally able to find the room on the third floor. There were a few men in the room. There was a tall platform in the center. On the platform was Angelique. The auction was well in the middle. Many bid for her as she was young, fresh, and very beautiful.
“Eighty Francs, do I hear eighty-five?” The auctioneer asked.
“One Hundred Francs!” Wolfgang called out.
“Very good, my lord. Do I hear a Hundred Ten?”
The men who wanted Angelique looked to him. They were older gentlemen and they wanted a young doll. Well, he thought, they will not take her. A Hundred Francs was a large sum. It was worth a third of the theatre but he didn’t care. Angelique was everything to him.
It seems a Hundred Francs was too expensive for a child doll. A hundred Francs could run ten modest households for a year. The men in the room didn’t bid on Angelique anymore. The Marquis was giddy. He wanted to take Angelique away from this horrid place. First, he had to get to her. Then, Exter would come and they would run.
“We shall leave you in the Ruby Room,” the auctioneer said.
Wolfgang was led to the Ruby Room. They left him in the room and told him the doll would come to him soon.
Like the rest of the Doll House, the Ruby Room was decked elaborately like a stage. He knew these were all dressing. He smelled the same Arabian Perfume in here. There must be incense as well. He tried not to breathe deeply. The lights were dim making the gilded furniture glow.
Finally, a doll entered the room. She limped towards him. A veil covered her face. Wolfgang ran to her. “Angel? I’m here.”
“I’ll be your angel tonight, my lord,” the doll said.
Wolfgang frowned. He pulled the veil off. This doll had dark hair. She was not Angelique.
“You are not Angelique.”
“I am your angel, my lord. I’ll do anything you wish me to do,” she said suggestively.
“No, I paid A Hundred Francs for another doll.” He went to the door and rapped hard. “Open the door!”
“They know who you are,” the doll said. “He hates you and he’ll kill her in revenge.”
Dread washed over him. He was found out? “Revenge? How can he hate me? We’ve never been introduced. I do not know your masters,” the Marquis said.
“He knows you. You and that valet of yours. Leave us be, my lord! We are dead to Paris, just toys to be used and discarded.” The doll was pathetic. It was clear she’s been used and abused for so long.
“I can help you out. I’ll rescue her and every other doll here,” the Marquis promised.
The doll scoffed. “Do not bother. We are dead without Monsieur Benign and Lord La Belle. They hold a key and with it, we can move, we can live. If he withholds the key, we cease to move, cease to breathe, and eventually die.” She turned around and showed him her wind-hole. It was exactly like a doll windup hole except it was bigger. Wolfgang felt sick. Did Angelique have this as well?
“So you see, my lord, we are already dead.”
“I promise you, I will defeat them.”
“You and what army? Lord La Belle has an army. His harvesters are dolls too. They became his dolls willingly so they could live forever and feel no pain. They are stronger and have more endurance,” she told him. “He made sure the female dolls were kept frail and dainty. Our only use is to the pleasure men who have coin to spare.”
“I have an army of my own,” Wolfgang smiled.
Right on cue, the door burst open. Two harvesters fell face forward. Exter stood behind them. “Ready, my lord?”
“He has her,” Wolfgang told him. “He knows why we have come.”
“Well, well, well, the cast is complete!” The Marquis and Exter looked to the shadow. A tall masked man came to the light. In his hand was the lifeless doll of Angelique.
“Angelique!” The Marquis cried.
“Don’t come any closer!”
“Why?” The Marquis asked. “Why are you doing this?”
La Belle looked at him dispassionately through his mask. He laughed but the laugh was not real, it was more of a cackling sound. “Profit, of course. I need money to support my doll habit.”
“Why kill them?” It was Exter who asked, this time.
La Belle cackled some more. “I like to play with them. I was always too rough with my toys. Silly doxies, I thought they would last long but they don’t. Ladies of Paris, rich and poor, they all break all the same.”
“You’re disgusting! These are human lives!” The Marquis cried.
Exter flicked his wrist, and a sword the length of his arm came out. He charged La Belle. La Belle raised his arms in defense. Exter sliced it off clean. The arm fell with a clunking sound.
“Exter, I knew we would meet again!” La Belle said. He cradled his arm stump but strangely, no blood came out. “Why can’t you look away like the others? You should have minded your own business.”
“Because it is not right! What you are doing is an abomination!”
La Belle laughed. “Abomination? Look at you? You are practically a doll yourself!”
Exter huffed. “I am what I am because Achilles Bellamy needed me to continue his work.” Achilles Bellamy was Wolfgang’s grandfather. “Besides, I am what I am through choice. These girls had no choice. I don’t think I have met you before.”
“La Belle, you are giving tinkers a bad reputation. We know you pay the constabulary to clean up after you but this has got to stop!” The Marquis was angry now. Turning women into dolls for profit was disgusting.
“You are just like your grandfather. I keep forgetting he has long passed. I see you and see the same spark Achilles had.” He tore his mask and revealed his face.
“Duc de Belleblanc!” Wolfgang was not surprised.
Exter stepped forward. “You are not the Duc de Belleblanc. You are a doll!”
The duke laughed. “Yes, Exter, you have guessed correctly. I am indeed a doll but I am also the Duc de Belleblanc.” He opened his cape and revealed himself.
Wolfgang gasped. The duke had automatic limbs. “Why?”
“To live forever. Your valet will tell you that with the automata technology, we, the doll makers can now transform ourselves into dolls and live over and over. Isn’t that right, Exter?” He laughed.
“You will not get away, Belleblanc! Even if you pay all the citizens of Paris to look away, I still have enough influence to have you jailed and worse! You will face Madam Guillotine!” And Wolfgang did. As poor as he is, nobody can forget that his grandfather was once the savior of France. “Exter, please apprehend Monsieur le Duc.”
“With pleasure, my lord.” Exter charged a second time.
Belleblanc pulled Angelique from the floor and flung her doll body towards them. Exter had to retract his sword. Wolfgang jumped and caught Angelique’s body. He cradled her.
“Exter! I cannot feel a pulse! Belleblanc, what have you done?” The Marquis was in a panic. She needed Angelique in his life. If Belleblanc killed her, he would exact revenge but he wouldn’t know how to carry on in life.
Exter charged anew. He was very fast. Unfortunately, Belleblanc was also fast. Now that he was expecting Exter, he dodged and ran. Before he could escape out the door, Exter threw his sword, skewering Belleblanc to the wall.
He was impaled and could not escape. “Expose me and all these dolls die,” he shook a key on a chain around his neck. “I can withhold the key and they die.”
Exter stood menacingly. “You know I can fix them. I can make it so they live again, free from your control. You, you will rot in jail until such time of your execution.”
He roared a curse. With his remaining hand, he crushed the key and tossed it. The mad duke laughed. “At the stroke of midnight, if I do not wind the clock, this place is rigged to blow!”
Exter let out an undignified curse. “We might have to leave him but first, we need to get out of here.”
“What about the other dolls?” Wolfgang couldn’t bear to leave anyone in a place like this.
“Look to the clock, my lord. We haven’t the time. We shall pick up whom we encounter but we cannot tarry,” Exter pointed out.
Wolfgang picked up Angelique. She was frail and unresponsive. Her neck was bruised and nearly crushed. A long gash was visible. She had been operated on. Her limbs were replaced with doll limbs. He cried when he carried her. “What have they done to you!” He carried her and the other doll up the ground level and out the front door. The harvesters came and he let Exter fight them.
The harvesters were dolls, men turned into dolls to serve Belleblanc. They were faceless and were no more than automatons. He felt pity for them. Wolfgang didn’t know if this was the life they signed up for.
Exter didn’t fight them. “La Belle has destroyed the key. Come work for me and I will fix it so that you do not need keys.”
There was a fraction of hesitation then one by one, they nodded. “For my first order, go into the rooms, take all the dolls, and bring them safely above ground. This place is rigged to blow by midnight. Leave the patrons but save the dolls. Go!” They ran to obey.
“That is taken care of. We must go now.”
They ran from the doll house. When they reached the catacombs, they encountered an old flaxen-haired doll. She had collapsed in a tangle of limbs. She needed the key but they didn’t have it any longer.
“Exter, we must save her,” the Marquis said. “She was the doll who warned me.”
Exter carried the old doll. They returned to Le Halles Market stall, in Wolfgang’s workshop. He would later find out that the harvesters were able to save twelve dolls. About forty perished along with a dozen other harvesters. The patrons who were engaged in the dolls have also perished. This time, the constabulary cannot look the other way.

She came awake slowly. Like when she woke as a doll, she felt sore and cottony. There was a sudden panic that gripped her. She tried to get her bearings. The first thing she noticed was Wolfgang, sitting on the corner, watching her. His face was sad, angry, and heartbroken all at once.
“Wolfgang?”
He got up and reached for her. “My Angel, I’m so sorry!”
“What is it, my Wolfgang?”
“Your father was arrested last week,” he told her.
“My father?” She frowned, not comprehending why.
“He was the one who sold you to Belleblanc but that is not why I am so sorry.” He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. She thought she felt it but then she knew she didn’t. Her limbs were not her own. “I have replaced all that Belleblanc took away but you are still a doll.”
She stood up. She frowned and looked at herself. “I need to see a mirror.”
Wolfgang fetched her a large enough mirror that she could see herself. She was only wearing a chemise. Angelique tore the chemise to see herself. The automata he had created was so different than Belleblanc’s. The grafting was much finer and daintier. Her arms and legs looked like a human’s instead of a doll’s. She saw that she had a scar on her abdomen.
“I did the best I could but that bastard had taken so much from you. He even took your kidneys,” he said. “I had to graph an automatic one.”
“Will I die?”
He shook his head. “I will make sure we live together for a long while.” He kissed her. “It took three days to operate on you. Belleblanc had taken so much from you. It took you days to recover. I was so afraid, Angelique. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I knew you’d find me, Wolfgang. I knew in my heart that you’d come for me. Je t’aime.”
“Je t’aime, my angel. I will always find you.”
“Then, that is all I can ask for. Je t’aime, my Wolfgang. You came and rescued me. I will not let Belleblanc ruin me,” she said. Although her voice was trembling, they were strong.
“You are mine, Angelique. Je t’aime. I must warn you, you cannot exert yourself. Since there is no key to wind you, I had to make your automatic parts take power through your heart.”
She frowned. “Does not Monsieur Bricomann, your valet, have an automatic heart? I have heard rumors that your grandfather has found the secret to recreating hearts.”
“Alas, that is one secret he took to the grave. He has trained Exter and I on all things except that,” he answered. Wolfgang kissed her full on the lips then grabbed a sheet to cover her. “Let us talk of happy things.”
“Marry me, Wolfgang. Marry me and never let me go.”
He hugged her tight. “Yes, but you must let me ask you. I am entering into a new venture with Exter. With this new venture, I will be able to drape you in diamonds and pearls.”
“I do not care about that. All I want is you,” she whispered.
The Marquis blushed. “Your sisters are here.”
She gasped. “Do not let them see me!”
“They have seen you and they accept you as much as they accepted your mother,” he said.
She frowned. “My mother?”
“I will let her tell her tale.”
Nola and her sisters came in. They hugged her and cried with her. She was happy Nola had escaped the doll house. She too sported new automatic parts from Wolfgang. “Nola?”
She smiled tears in her eyes. “Years ago, your father sold me to Belleblanc. To explain my disappearance, he said there was a boating accident and I fell into the Seine, my body unrecoverable.”
“M-mother! Why did you call yourself Nola?”
Nola smiled. “It means doll. I am here now. I love you all and I want to care for you all.”
“Mother, if you weren’t there, I would have died. Thank you,” she hugged her mother. She could see that Wolfgang had worked his tinkering on her too. Nola had metal hands that resembled human limbs.
Wolfgang left the happy family to have their reunion in private. He went to see Exter. Exter met him in the sewers. It was their temporary storeroom and their shortcut around Paris.

“I feel uneasy still,” Exter said.
“What is it, Exter?” Wolfgang asked.
“Belleblanc turned himself into a doll to extend his life.”
“Yes, but he met a terrible end.”
“Belleblanc does not have that skill. Besides, he cannot operate on himself. As your grandfather helped me, somebody helped him,” Exter pointed out.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” the half-automaton said. “He mentioned that the others looked away.”
“So, there are others we must be vigilant about. What more horrors can Paris see?”
Exter shook his head. “Doll makers are all over Neo Europa. They are not confined to Paris.”
“Then I must expand my empire to cover Neo Europa and rid the world of errant doll makers.,” Wolfgang said. His grandfather would have done the same.
“I will keep my eyes open. I fear we may encounter more of these rogue doll makers soon.”
Wolfgang knew he had to amass his influence and his army soon. A war was about to erupt. He looked at the hidden automatons Exter had stashed in the sewers. These were his grandfather’s automaton army, the ones that won them a war. For now, they were to have a different purpose. He would use them in his new venture: The Theatre. He would show the people of Paris what dolls should be used for.
The end… for now.

About the Author:
Maita Rue is an author, designer and pet blogger. She’s the mother of four dogs and an aunt of one grumpy cat. Maita loves to read and is now finally writing the things she loves. The characters in her books have their own lives and she claims they demand their own destinies. She had several Steampunk and historical stories available in different medias.