Marionette: The Dark Carousel, #3

By Anya Allyn

The DARK CAROUSEL series is a heart-stopping mix of American Horror Story and the fantastical elements of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

A shattering betrayal leaves Cassie beyond all light or hope. The betrayal signals a return to Balthazar's castle.

She's forced to wait out her sixteenth summer in Balthazar's terrifying, dank quarters beneath the castle, until he wakes from his long slumber and she is taken as his bride. Each day she is reminded of her fate, in full view of the sixty glass door cabinets where his teenage wives of centuries past are preserved. No bride lasts very long. Each day, she is told she is little more than a butterfly, soon to waste away inside a painted, wooden replica of herself.

Deep inside herself, she plots revenge against those who have taken everyone she loved away from her. And she'll never stop seeking a way to destroy the second book of The Mirrored Tree--the knowledge of which will give the castle dominion over all the universes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anni Taylor
• Release date: May 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386645382

Anya Allyn

Book III coming in mid-2013. Updates on the Dollhouse books at: http://dollhousetrilogy.com I greatly value your reviews and feedback, Anya [e-mail]  

Book preview

PROLOGUE

TOBIAS 1920

Roll up one and all, come find your own story here. For the greatest stories you will ever know happen at the circus.

The young, barely past childhood, steal their first trembling, cotton-candy flavored kiss behind the stalls. And old men, like me, remember the magic of their youth—a time when the fantastical, the apocryphal and macabre, become more real than life itself.

As your ringmaster, I invite you to explore. From your anticipation when you first catch sight of our poster—flapping in the sudden breeze of your stagnant town—to the grand spectacle and finale of the Big Top.

Like a flamboyant, extravagant lover, we will woo you, entertain and enthral you, then flee in the night before you wake.

My own story began a long, long time ago. The year was 1851. I was born breech in the antechamber of an ancient French castle. I was abandoned, thought dead, until a servant heard my mewing cries.

But let me tell you about the castle. The castle itself clung perilously to the edge of a lonely clifftop where the wind howled up like demons from the cold side of the North Atlantic Ocean. It was a place where nightmares stalked you in the never-ending halls and haunted your every breath, a place of shifting walls and bloodcurdling whisperings. My family home. A past I tried to flee.

Truly, we cannot run from our family histories. But we can learn and try not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Throughout the centuries, my family has used others for its own gain. There is a particular malady my ancestors have been afflicted with: the desire to control and create our own perfect little worlds. This has resulted in a line of people obsessed with court jesters and clowns and marionettes and dolls—any human-like form we can manipulate and control.

I thought the circus that I built was an escape from the castle, but in the end, it was just my own little performing puppet-show. I’ve been so blind. My greatest failure was in not staying and attempting to stop the castle’s endless march.

I know I will not be the last to tell the stories of this castle.

There will be others to suffer the madness, after me. And in their hours of desperation and darkness, I wish they at least find some measure of grand adventure.

For what is life, but a plunge from the high diving board into the fantastical and the unknown?

1. BLACK MOON

CASSIE

Moonlight shattered into millions of pieces on the bay. Out in the inky expanse above, the universe was just a toy, a mobile spinning endlessly.

Ethan had vanished—into that space between the dark and madness. My mind spun with all that he’d told me. His earth was a strange world of ice and iridescent tubes and a destroyed city. An earth to which I also belonged. The earth I stood on was not my own. I had escaped from the underground portal of the serpent’s cave into an identical world. And I’d taken the place of the Cassandra Claiborne who used to live here.

Zach’s urgent calls carried on the wind. His betrayal tonight almost seemed like a lifetime ago. All along, he’d walked in that midnight world of spirits. All along, he’d been a part of the relentless search for the book—the book of the Mirrored Tree. He and the others were coming.

Turning, I fled along the jetty.

My father held out his hand to me over the side of the yacht, his expression anguished.

Salt spray whipped my face as I climbed on board.

My father flung the rope free from a post, and the yacht pushed off into the wind.

Molly stood holding the yacht’s rail. Her eyes searched mine. I thought for a moment you were going to stay there. With Ethan.

I met her gaze. I’m not who you think I am . . . .

Her eyes grew wide. Cassie? Please, you’re frightening me . . . .

I’m a deceiver.

"You mean them. They’re the deceivers." She pointed toward the dark figures on the jetty as they raced toward the boat shed.

No, I cried. I shouldn’t be here. I’m taking the place of someone else . . . .

She grabbed my hands, her fingers tightening around mine. What happened there on the dock? What did Ethan say to you?

Girls! my father yelled. I need help. Grab the rigging!

I pulled on the rope he threw me. I held on with everything I had and let my mind ice over.

2. IN THE CHURNING DEEP

The bow of the yacht cut across the black bay. The lights of the buildings on the mainland opposite washed across the taut faces of my father and Molly.

Behind us, a larger yacht moved into sight. It would catch us within minutes.

Zach stood teetering on the bow of the boat. Cassie! Let me help you! Please . . . I won’t let them hurt you.

Mr. Batiste pulled him roughly back. Emerson, Parker and the others stayed and worked the sail and rigging, expertly guiding the yacht toward us.

Don’t worry—we’ll get to the other side before them. Rope-like veins bulged on my father’s neck. He sounded more desperate than certain.

Waves tossed up into the air before us, waves that swelled and rose in the midst of the bay. My father cried out as water hit the deck of the boat. The waves sucked up on either side of our yacht, as tall as buildings. The terrifying walls of water raced toward each other, crashing over us. I clung to the rope as my body was dragged sideways, knees scraping along the floor of the yacht. Molly was flung screaming to the rail. Dad held tight to the mast, his expression rigid with horror and disbelief.

No! Zach yelled to his father. You’re going to drown them!

Then I saw it—the shadow spinning the water up from the surface. An image tore across my mind—an image of how the serpent had changed the course of the waterfall in the cave. We were in the natural environment of the serpent's shadow. It could control water and use it against us.

Six waves rose from the bay, six waves like serpents—twisting and gathering in size. Our yacht spun. The wave-serpents headed for us. We tore our gazes away from the hideous forms—each of us turning to each other in desperation. There were seconds before the waves hit us, seconds before we died. There was nothing more we could do. In my father’s expression, I saw everything he’d tried to explain to me in Copper Canyon—all his regret and sorrow. On Molly’s face I saw confusion, and I wished more than anything I could take back those things I’d told her mere minutes ago.

The water hit with greater force than anything my mind had imagined in those seconds. My hands ripped away from the rope as the yacht lurched sideways. Black water closed around me, pushing me deep.

Which way to the surface? I swam through the churning water, uncertain whether I was headed up or down. My dress wrapped around my legs, twisting them together. Panic coursed through me. My lungs strained and burned. I pulled and kicked at my dress, trying to free my legs.

An image rose before me. A door. A house. The house Tobias had built at the top of Devils Hole. The door swung open, beckoning me inside. And I knew. I knew that the house was still there. Back in my own world—the world of ice—the house and the underground hadn’t been destroyed.

My head grew lighter. This is where it would all end. There was no escape from the Dollhouse. It was about to reclaim me.

I felt my lungs and head close to bursting.

A dim light rippled before me, growing brighter. A warmth spreading through the water.

And Prudence was there.

Her eyes stared into mine, long hair streaming about her pale face. A moment of calm enveloped me. I stopped kicking and thrashing, and I reached to untangle my legs. Prudence swam away—and I followed. I didn’t know where I was headed, but wherever she took me, I would go.

Her light faded.

Through the pitch darkness I could see lights. This was the way up.

I grew too light-headed.

Fuzzy.

I couldn’t make it . . . .

A figure plunged down beside me. I knew him even though I couldn’t see him. Zach. He grabbed my arm, pulling me. We broke the surface together. I spluttered and gulped deep breaths of air. Oxygen pumped through my screaming lungs and body.

The bay’s surface was choppy, but the waves had ceased. Zach’s father’s yacht was far in the distance.

Zach still had my arm. I wrenched it from him. Get away from me!

His face held a tortured expression, wet hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks. I thought I’d lost you. But then I saw something, almost like a patch of light underneath the surface. And I saw you.

I took a long breath, bitterness welling up inside me. So what did you save me for, Zach? So your family can use me some more? I hate you.

He closed his eyes for a moment, shutting me out. I deserve your hate.

I caught sight of the body of a small yacht. It bobbed on its side before it sank into the bay. Where’s Molly? Where’s my father? With rising panic, I scanned the water.

Zach pointed to a dark mass ahead. The waves pushed them both that way. They’re okay—they’re looking for you. Cassie, go to them. I’ll tell my family I saw you all drown. They weren’t watching you—they were using all their energy making those god-awful waves.

I gazed at him, not trusting him, breathing wildly.

Go! Before they see you.

I swam away quickly without looking back. Whether Zach was lying or telling the truth, I needed to make it to land, to the other side. And this was the only way I could go. I couldn’t stay out here in the middle of the bay. I prayed he was right—that Molly and Dad had made it. I didn’t know how to resolve the maelstrom inside my head, but of one thing I was now certain—the people I was swimming toward were Molly and my father. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known them before my escape from the underground. They were the exact same people. And I didn’t need to understand any of that right now. All I knew was that I ached with everything in me for them both to live—and that had to mean something.

I swam with every ounce of strength I had left. I wasn’t a strong swimmer and had never swum so far before in my life. I’d always feared slipping down into the dark places beneath the water when I’d ventured too far out.

I heard Emerson bellowing Zach's name. Zach must have almost made it back to his family’s yacht. The yacht began to cruise closer, flashlights strobing the water.

I dipped below the surface until the light disappeared from overhead. The yacht moved off to the shoreline. I guessed they were going to check if any of us had made it to shore. My arms and back aching from the cold, I stroked in the direction Zach had pointed me.

Immediately ahead was a huge, long object sitting in the water. A ship—a ship made of stone. I knew what it was, only I’d never seen it from this angle before. It was the stone barge of Vizcaya—the property Zach had taken me to lunch at when I’d first returned to Miami. Tonight, the limestone barge with its winged-mermaid statues was a refuge. I paddled around to one of the naked, chipped mermaids and clung to it.

Molly and my father appeared in the water, near the other end of the barge. My father swam strong strokes toward me. His arms came around my shoulders, sobs wracking his chest. We saw you swimming to the barge, but didn’t want to yell out—the yacht was too close. God, you’re safe. We tried to find you, but those insane waves pushed Molly and me this way. I don’t know what the hell happened out there—but it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t natural.

Molly’s face broke into a smile, though her face remained shot with despair. Let’s get out of here before they find us.

We swam across to where the grounds of Vizcaya met the bay.

I hauled myself up, dripping and exhausted. Dad, we need to go warn Mom.

You think they’d go after her too? Water ran in rivulets down the sides of his face.

Molly and I nodded in unison.

3. CLUTCHES OF MADMEN

The dogs whimpered as we climbed into the back garden of the house. I bent to hug them. Mom hadn’t answered the front door. We had no keys with us—Molly and I had left our handbags back at the Batistes’ house. I tapped on Mom’s window. Her bed was empty. Dad took a spade from the garden and jammed it under the window. The window gave way, wood splintering around the lock. He lifted himself up and into the house. Within a moment, he had the back door open for us.

His eyes were grave. She isn’t here.

Molly and I rushed inside.

Mom! I called.

But I knew my father was right. The house had that empty feel that a house does when there’s no one at home. A pile of neatly folded washing sat on the sofa—she liked to fold clothes while she watched TV. At least nothing seemed disturbed. It didn’t seem that she’d been forcibly taken.

Look, said Molly solemnly. She picked up a note from the side table.

Cassie and Molly,

Call me silly, but I’m feeling uneasy at not being able to contact either of you. I don’t want to spoil your fun, so I’m driving over to spend the night there with you two. Surprise!

I’m leaving this note on the odd chance you return here.

All my love, Mom.

A cold shiver raced through me. I'd forgotten Mom's rule that Molly and I were never allowed to have our cell phones off when we were away from the house. She’s gone to the Batistes’ house . . . .

I’m calling the police. Dad walked through to the living room and picked up the phone.

I held up both hands. Be careful! If we tell the police where we are, Dragar will find out.

My father’s shoulders slumped. "This can’t be happening . . . . When we find your mother and get you girls safe, you’re going to have to tell me everything. And I mean everything."

I nodded at him, rubbing my forehead. Between us, we had no wallets, no car and almost no one we could trust to help us.

Molly took the phone from my father. I’ll call Martin Kalassi.

Yes, I breathed. Tell him to send help.

Molly made a hurried call to the detective. She told him about Dragar and briefly told him what had happened to us tonight. She left out all the parts that I knew she would—things there were no way of telling.

What did he say? I asked as Molly ended the call.

She drew a quick, deep breath. He said we have to get out of here. Get a hotel room. Stay put until he can gather forces.

We’ll need money. I rushed to Mom’s bedroom. I knew she kept money in the top right-hand drawer of her dresser. It seemed wrong as I pulled out a folded wad of hundred-dollar bills, even though I heard her yelling at me at the back of my mind—Take it, Cassie. And run! Go!

Out in the living room, I handed my father the wad of bills.

Let’s go. His mouth formed a hard line. We’ll find a hotel and tell them a story about capsizing my yacht and losing my wallet. Hopefully they’ll take the money, no questions asked.

Something slammed hard into the front door. The door tore away as Mr. Batiste and Mr. Baldcott kicked through it.

Mr. Baldcott eyed us with steel in his gaze. We have all calls to Kalassi monitored. He glared around at Mr. Batiste. I knew that boy of yours was lying. You’re going to have to toughen him up.

Mr. Batiste stared back at him defensively. Zach’s a bit misguided at the moment, that’s all. He strode toward us. Okay, now you’re all in no doubt of what we can do. There’s no getting out of this, there’s no getting away.

My father moved to stand in front of us. I’ll go with you if you want, but leave these two alone.

Please. Mr. Batiste made a dismissive gesture. I understand, as a father, you wanting to protect the girls. But they belong to us.

The hell they do! My father rushed at Mr. Batiste.

The men caught him in a hammer lock. My father tried to tear himself away in vain.

Run! My father’s eyes were huge and blazing with anger.

I took a step back, not wanting to leave him.

We have to go, Molly urged me.

We’ll get help. I took a last look at my father. Even if the men followed us, once we were outside in the yard, the dogs would defend us. If we could get the dogs into the house, we might even be able to protect my father—Kalassi had told us they were trained to attack.

I turned and fled with Molly. Emerson and Parker walked in through the back of the house, catching both of us in their arms.

Thanks for opening a window for us. Emerson smirked.

What happened to the dogs? I cried.

They’re sleeping, said Parker.

You killed them? I struggled in Parker’s grip.

Nah, they’ll wake. I don’t hurt animals, Parker replied.

Time to go, said Mr. Batiste. Mr. Claiborne, you’ll be accompanying us back to the house. And girls, we’ll be taking you somewhere we should have taken you in the first place.

And where the hell is that? demanded my father.

Mr. Batiste eyed him coldly. As far as you’re concerned, we’re taking them to the end of the earth. Say your goodbyes. Because you won’t be seeing each other again.

4. WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS

The dark tunnel of the shadow swirled around us, taking us back to the Batistes’ house. My father’s eyes gazed at me with pain and bewilderment as they led him away at gunpoint.

Molly and I were forced to stay in the shadow, forced across an arc of space, across an enormous distance. We’d been taken somewhere else, as Mr. Batiste had said we would.

We clung together as the shadow wrenched itself from us, revealing a large room with aged stone walls and floors.

Beds stood on either side of the room—high like the ones in the Dollhouse but made of gleaming wood. Antique paintings hung on the stone walls—paintings that were from a much older time than the ones at the Fiveash mansion. We hadn’t been taken to the Fiveash mansion—we were somewhere else entirely.

We raced to the huge, solid wood doors on the other side of the room, rattling the handles in frustration as the doors refused to open. There was no lock and no keyhole.

Tall, narrow windows showed the inky night outside. I raced over to them. My fingers strained as I tried to heave the heavy sashes up. The sashes didn’t go very far until they shuddered to a stop. The windows were designed to open a fraction to let breezes in but no further. The air smelled briny, like the ocean. Mists rolled in from all directions—thick and low like hunched thieves. The night and the fog prevented me from seeing anything of where we were—all I could tell was that the room stood far above the ground.

Water dripped onto the floor from our hair and dresses. I shivered.

We’ll catch our deaths. Molly opened a freestanding closet that stood next to the desk. There were just two dresses inside. The look on her face said it all as she held one of the dresses out to me. It was like we were back in the Dollhouse, forced to wear what they gave us to wear.

We slid out of our soaked clothing and stepped into the dresses. Molly laced up the back of my dress and then combed my hair through her fingers. I’m sorry, she said.

I turned around to her in surprise. Why should you be sorry?

I’m sorry for both of us, she said softly. Sorry that we’re here, sorry that they have your parents. Sorry about Zach and Parker and Emerson and Aisha . . . .

I pictured my parents at the Batistes’ house—confused and terrified. Anguish bit into my soul as a realization washed over me—if the world of ice was real and if it were truly my world, then my real parents, the parents I’d been born to, they had to be in the ice world somewhere. My mind struggled with the thought of having another set of parents. But if the Ethan of the ice world was real, then so were they . . . .

Inside me was a frozen place, a hollow place with icy winds blowing through it.

Molly exhaled a low breath of air. We just didn’t find out enough . . . enough to be able to fight them.

How could we ever fight them? My voice was numb. They can do anything they want. It makes sense now—so many things about Zach and his family. But I just couldn’t see it . . . I didn’t see through any of it.

Neither did I. It seems they’re very practiced at living double lives. Her mouth pulled into a grim line. But it isn’t true they can do anything they want. Because they need us, remember? Or at least, they need you.

She wandered around the room, rubbing her arms. This stuff is ancient. I don’t think we’re still in America . . . . She pulled open the drawers in an antique desk—a chunky monstrosity of a thing with carved gargoyles on every drawer. Inside the set of drawers were a set of chess pieces carved in dark ivory, a cloth picture that looked as though it had been embroidered by a child and some crackly old writing paper.

She replaced everything carefully back in each drawer and went to sit cross-legged on a bed. She eyed me with a serious, questioning expression. You started to say something to me . . . just after you boarded the yacht.

Meeting her gaze, I shook my head. I don’t know how to tell you what that was about. I don’t even know how to tell it to myself.

Just say it.

I sat heavily on the bed opposite. I couldn’t find the words. It was like I was at the edge of a precipice—staring into a bottomless darkness. We sat in silence while seconds slipped away. I couldn’t stop my limbs quaking, even though I was now dry. Cold bit into my limbs, into my mind.

I heard Molly softly sigh. It’s something Ethan said to you, isn’t it?

Yes.

"Cassie, he came to our rescue, but we don’t really know why. And we don’t know that we should trust him.