The exhibition about William Fane encompassed several rooms, each representing a different aspect of the man’s life, from little-known facts about his childhood and the childhoods of wealthy children at the time, to the murderous streak he was known for.
Jake froze in front of Vars so suddenly they collided. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, looking around the eerie mannequins of children playing with old toys.
Vars stiffened. Straining his ears, he followed the insistent murmur all the way to the second room, which was filled with personal items of Fane’s, including a small collection of suits and accessories. Choked by the odd smell clinging to the fabrics, he slowly made his way toward an open door, which faced a long corridor where the faint sound seemed to be originating.
He was inches from the hallway when he realized there was light playing on the wall far away, as if it reflected a television screen switched on in the dark room across from it.
Vars’s heart beat faster, only to stop at the sound of a telephone ringing from that same direction.
Jake made eyes at Vars and spread his arms in question. They’d checked that the museum had no overnight security. What the hell was this?
“Nah, it’s just a bit creepy,” said a male voice. He was far enough that he wouldn’t hear their footsteps, possibly in the same room as the television. “It’s ‘cause it’s an old building. I’ll take that over Donna’s screaming any day. A man makes one misstep, and he’s supposed to sleep on the couch in his own home? Fuck that. She’ll be missing me soon enough!”
Jake dragged his hands down his face in a show of frustration.
Vars snorted and made a small movement with his hand. They were good. This was just one of the museum workers crashing in his office. If push came to shove, they’d have no issues knocking him out.
“Don’t tell Giles, okay? He wouldn’t be happy if he knew I’m staying here overnight. You know how he is. Always wants to do everything by the book,” the man continued while Vars silently pushed the door closer to the doorframe to minimize noise. He didn’t dare to actually shut it, for fear the handle would let out a screech, so that would have to do.
“Right. Let’s get the collar and get out of here. Don’t want to be in that poor fuck’s shoes in the morning.”
“Shouldn’t have angered ‘Donna’,” Jake sniggered quietly, but stopped in his tracks the moment he walked into the room full of torture devices behind glass. With light coming in through a single window, shadows were more prominent than the physical shapes that cast them. “Something’s wrong.”
A chill penetrated Vars’s bones, and he squeezed Jake’s shoulder, scanning the room for danger. Despite the creepiness of the items on show, he spotted nothing warranting such a reaction. Even the mannequin clad in a vest with dark spots on the front was not out of place at an exhibition about a serial killer.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’m getting hot all over, but it’s not like before.” Jake shuddered, and some of his weight suddenly rested on Vars. “Oh, God… oh, God… this thing inside of me. It’s speaking to me.”
Jake’s whine made Vars want to pull the boy out of here and throw him into the snow once more, but they’d come here for the collar, and they needed to put it on him, because at this point he wasn’t even in control of his voice anymore, almost shouting.
Well, Vars would be too if a tentacle monster from another realm was talking to him from inside his own body.
“Jake, be quiet, he’ll hear us,” Vars whispered, scooping Jake with his arm and once more looking around while his entire body stiffened with worry. He tried to keep calm for Jake’s sake, but Vars couldn’t guarantee how he’d have acted if he were in his position.
The sight of the collar in the far-off corner gave Vars tunnel vision. Displayed on a headless bust, it was locked in a vitrine. All he needed to do was crush the damn glass and put the collar on Jake. It would all be fine once he did his job.
Jake gripped Vars’s arm so hard it hurt, weightless when Vars pulled him closer.
“Master?”
It took Vars a whole second to realize that the low, raspy voice had come out of Jake’s mouth along with a cloud of smoke.
Every single hair on his body bristled as he stared at the terror-stricken face next to his. The glow of the streetlight outside glinted in Jake’s damp eyes, and as Jake’s gaze settled on him, wide with panic, his lips pulled back, showing off teeth and gums that for once seemed monstrous rather than attractive.
“I can smell you, Master. What is your command?”