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  Puzzled, she reached forward, slid the bracelet aside, and picked up the old parchment. The script was beautiful handwriting that reminded her of the calligraphy she had seen in her father’s old books.

  Gabrielle,

  It was so nice to have spoken with you yesterday. You made me quite happy and reminded me of a younger me. You found my little friend for me and listened to my stories. As a thank you, I would like you to have this.

  Remember, these are things to be protected. NEVER forget that! You are now responsible for this bracelet and all the tales it has to share. Listen to her and let her lead you.

  Belated happy birthday, my young Gabrielle.

  -Alexandra-

  Gabrielle stood motionless for a moment, her head spinning at yet another confusing turn of events in what was now a rapidly growing list. Folding the paper back into its original square, she placed the note in her pocket and placed the silver bracelet on her wrist. The smooth metal slid over her hand and fit snugly in place.

  A chill shot through her body as she stepped back from the light surrounding the desk and stared at her wrist. What a beautiful gift. With this thought, a smile crossed her face. She had to thank Alexandra for the amazing gift.

  Placing her father’s silver coin securely in her pocket next to the letter, Gabrielle turned to walk down the aisle behind her. A strange breeze whooshed across her face and puffed back her hair. There, as though it had always been there — yet it certainly had not — was an aisle that led to the back of the shop.

  Frozen in place, she stared down the new passage. The sensation that something didn’t feel right wrapped around her once more. Gabrielle rubbed the gift on her wrist as she realized how cold the room was. With slow, cautious steps, she walked down the new pathway.

  As she got closer to the stairwell, she realized there were no lights in it as there had been the day before. The thought of scaling the treacherous steps in the dark caused the hair on the back of Gabrielle’s neck to stand at attention.

  When she reached the base of the stairs, she looked up to see the door at the top was ajar. A faint light washed down the stairs from the doorway.

  Gabrielle put one foot on the lowest stair and then placed both of her hands on either wall as she had done the day before. Focusing on her feet, she began the slow and steady ascension of the stairs.

  Each creak and groan brought a worsening to the ominous feeling growing deep within her. The books that yesterday were stacked on the edges of every step were cast about, covering the stairs with slippery pages.

  Each step she took felt more treacherous than the last, causing her to glance over her shoulder. The thought of falling backward down the stairs made her feel ill, and she brought her gaze back to the path ahead of her.

  CLICK.

  Listening through the nothingness with all the intensity she could muster, Gabrielle leaned toward the doorway and waited for another sound; all that responded was silence. Feeling like she was in an alternate-universe version of the shop, she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

  “H-hello? Alexandra, are you home?” Gabrielle croaked, breaking through the silence. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she collected herself before pressing through the doorway. Her hands were cold, and she thought she could feel the bracelet heating as she reached out for the door. Again, the sound came, as though it were teasing her.

  CLICK.

  As she pushed the door open, it let out a loud, steady creak that reminded Gabrielle of something she would hear in a horror movie. She stood in the doorway and looked down the hallway to the entrance of the loft at the end.

  “Hello?” Gabrielle chewed on her bottom lip. Her gaze locked on the vase of flowers she had admired the day before and her heart stopped as she looked at the once beautiful container of flowers that now hung dead in the vase. How is this possible? She stood frozen in fear trying to will her legs to move when she heard the sound again.

  CLICK.

  Just as before, the sound drove the urge in Gabrielle’s body to proceed forward. She wasn’t sure why, but she had to look around; she had to look for Alexandra. As though willing her legs from paralysis, Gabrielle fought her frozen appendages and took her first step into the loft.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The first step Gabrielle took was followed by her second, and then a third, and she soon found herself in the hallway to Alexandra’s loft.

  The photos that lined the walls of the hallway were still the pictures that had been there the day before, but there was something strange about them; they were much dustier than she remembered.

  As she pushed herself forward through the hallway, she stopped to get a closer look at the dead flowers. Cobwebs weaved throughout their once beautiful leaves.

  Gabrielle blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming and chewed again on her bottom lip.

  The voice in her head was screaming at her to run, but she continued to place one foot in front of the other as if she had no control over her body.

  Alexandra’s loft was the same as she remembered it from the day before. Her cup still sat on the arm of the chair she had sat in, with an empty plate that once held cookies sitting on the table between the two chairs.

  Looking around the room, Gabrielle walked past the table still covered in books, over to her former seat. The dust, acting like a photograph, had taken a picture of Gabrielle where she sat in the chair the day before.

  The level of dust and dirt on every surface was far greater than she remembered and the fireplace had leaves in it as if it hadn’t been used in years.

  What’s going on? Was I dreaming yesterday? The thought was absurd. Gabrielle knew she had been here yesterday. She had sat in this chair and had tea and cookies with Alexandra.

  A faint whisper stabbed at her ears, and she cast panicked gazes around the loft. Nothing. She turned in circles, her arms curled upwards as though she were holding something close to her heart. Her eyes widened, and her heart slammed around inside her chest.

  Gabrielle’s head swam as she walked around the room, confused and alarmed by the drastic changes from the day before. She felt her beating heart stop when she tripped over a small pile of books.

  The level of dust on the floor was so heavy she was leaving a path of footprints like she would in the snow during winter.

  Looking around the room, she noticed her footprints from the day before as well; she had been wearing different shoes, but she recognized the mark they left. She followed the two sets of prints with her eyes for a moment before the realization set it.

  Where are Alexandra’s footprints?

  If Gabrielle was leaving prints, Alexandra must have been also, but there wasn't any sign of them.

  “No. She was here with me. We talked.” She tried to reason what this could mean, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of anything that would justify what was happening.

  Gabrielle examined her surroundings for a clue, but there wasn't anything new. A small glass dome sitting atop an old end table next to the fireplace caught her eye. Gabrielle walked over to the dome and peered at its contents. Inside was a small stand with a hook from which a large pocket watch hung.

  It looked like a skeleton in a golden case with all the gears and cogs exposed, turning within the case. Below the hook was a small brass placard. She squinted to read the faded lettering through the dust that encased the dome.

  “B.R.E.Q.U.E.T… Brequet. No. 160: M.A.” She read aloud and was wondering who Brequet was when a pair of eyes reflected in the dome. Gabrielle flung herself around on her heels, her heart in her throat, and threw her arms out in front of her for protection. No one was there.

  Gabrielle scoured the room for signs of life. A sinister thought crept into her head that forced her to slam her eyes shut: Ghosts don’t have feet.

  Opening her eyes, she inhaled deeply through her nose and let the still air fill her chest. A sour stench hung in the air. She looked around to see if she could find where it was
coming from.

  She stepped away from the fireplace toward the center of the room and the odor that lingered shifted from sour to that of old books and leather as she crept closer to the table with a small stack of books on the corner.

  She slipped a book from the stack, leaned it toward her and blew the dust from its cover. As the cloud of dust cleared, Gabrielle attempted to read the faded title from the antiqued-leather cover. The lettering was so deteriorated that it looked like the title was written in symbols rather than words.

  With the care of a nursery maid and the touch of a mother, she brought her hand to the lip of the cover and opened the book. The spine creaked open, and another sound shot through the silence.

  CLICK.

  The kitchen!

  Gabrielle shut the book and placed it back on the table. Alexandra made me tea last night! Gabrielle thought as she turned to look for the plate that still sat next to the chair. With a fleeting glance to the stack of books, she made her way to the kitchen.

  The sour smell came flooding back into her nose and lungs. She was looking at the floor as she rounded the corner of the counter and tripped over a small platter on the floor, just out of sight.

  Next to the platter was a small teacup, a tiny vial, and a small bundle of dried white flowers.

  The foul odor stabbed at her senses, and the hair on the back of her neck turned to spines as her eyes traveled across the floor only to stop at something stretched out from around the counter.

  She strained her eyes in disbelief as she focused on a pair of feet. Everything was broken down into increments, like watching a reel of film one frame at a time.

  The feet were in running shoes, just like the ones Alexandra wore the night before, but these shoes looked old and well worn. From the top of the shoes, stretched pale, gray ankles covered in skin that looked rubbery and fake. As Gabrielle followed the legs up with her eyes, she saw the trim of a black dress.

  “Gabrielle,” a voice slithered into her ear. Gabrielle’s heart jumped into her throat, but she kept her eyes fixated on the lifeless feet in front of her. Is she still alive?

  Gabriele took a step toward the legs, leaning forward and looking for signs of life. The voice didn't sound like Alexandra’s; it was raspy and lifeless.

  “GABRIELLE!” the voice shouted, causing her to jump away from the body. The word sounded like it was coming from behind her, and Gabrielle screwed her eyes shut. With her body shaking, she slowly cracked one eye and forced her frozen appendages to turn and face the room behind her.

  Run… Don’t look… Just run! Gabrielle thought as she turned to face the door to Alexandra’s loft. Someone was standing on Alexandra’s bed, a sheet over their body like a child’s Halloween costume. A scream tried to force its way past her lips, but she clamped her mouth shut.

  “Gabrielle” another hushed whisper crept into her ear as if someone were standing right beside her. Gabrielle swallowed hard and chewed on her bottom lip. Her brain was screaming at her, RUN! GET OUT AND DON’T LOOK BACK, but her legs felt like they were filled with lead.

  She slid one frozen foot along the ground, keeping her eyes trained on the figure. The old hardwood floor let out a groan as she put weight on it, and Gabrielle winced and gritted her teeth.

  She looked at the hallway door, only to see the sheeted figure standing there. Her heart froze mid-beat, and she shot her eyes back to the bed only to find it empty. What the Hell?

  A crackling sound forced Gabrielle’s eyes back to the figure that was now blocking her path to the door. Two black spots appeared where eyes should have been and began to run down the sheet like fresh ink.

  “GABRIELLE!” The figure screamed and then lunged at her. She threw her hands up as the sheet collided with her and wrapped itself around her.

  The fabric clung to her face and body, and Gabrielle fell to the ground, kicking and clawing at the sheeted figure before she realized there was no one there.

  She crawled out from under the sheet on all fours and down the hallway for a few steps before she could pull herself up and run at a full sprint to the stairs. Another scream shot from behind her as she ran down the stairs, not daring to look behind her.

  Something flew over her head, and Gabrielle ducked to avoid being hit. She lost her footing and slipped, falling end over end down the stairs, grasping at anything she could get her hands on.

  As soon as she landed at the bottom of the stairs, Gabrielle pulled herself up and ran to the passage that led to the front door.

  Shadows kept pace with her down the aisles and crawled on the ceiling above her as she rounded each corner. With the front door in view, she pushed her sore body to run faster. As she grabbed the handle, a loud thunk exploded by her head as a dagger embedded itself in the wood, narrowly missing her.

  A crimson and gold-wrapped handle was sticking out of the door with a swastika engraved on the base of the blade.

  “Gabrielle,” the voice called for her, and she turned to see the sheeted figure standing at the end of the row, its black eyes still leaking down the front of the sheet. Gabrielle turned on her heels and threw the door open, running toward the street and straight into a person.

  “Pardon me, Miss. Is everything alright?” Gabrielle looked up at the officer and relief washed over her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Darkness broke through her surroundings like a thinning tunnel. Gabrielle was numb to the chilled air as she stood outside the shop ignoring the shouts from the crowd that had gathered. The large, wooden front door was propped open, and several police officers walked in and out carrying various things and chatting amongst themselves.

  An officer stood next to her as she sat on the curb opposite the shop. He was asking her questions, but Gabrielle couldn’t understand what he was saying. It was like there was a wet rag over his mouth that filtered everything he said, muffling the words and making it almost impossible to hear.

  What was that thing? Gabrielle was looking in the shop’s windows still expecting to see the sheeted figure when the officer’s voice broke through the muted buffer.

  “— so, you see, there’s no reason for you to be sad, young lady. The owner was very old. Looks like she’d been there for a while by her — err — by the looks of it. The cold air must’ve kept her — uh —” Gabrielle followed the officer’s gaze behind her to an older officer, standing several feet away in the street an expression on his face like he had just smelled something disgusting.

  “Have the girl’s parents been notified?” the older officer’s voice was hoarse and cracked from years of chain smoking.

  “Yes sir — well — no sir, I mean,” the younger officer cleared his throat like he was trying to find the right words to say. “I put in a call to the parents, sir,” he began again, flipping through a small spiral bound note pad, “but it seems the father is no longer in the picture, and the mother works in the next town over, so there were no adults in her home, sir!” The young officer jolted. avoiding eye contact with the other officer.

  A sour taste filled Gabrielle’s mouth at the officer’s description; he made it sound like her father had chosen not to be there for her.

  “I think it’s about time you walked this little girl home.”

  “Sir, yes sir!”

  As Gabrielle stood, her legs gave way. They had fallen asleep some time ago and were not prepared for weight be put on them. After stabilizing herself with some help from the officer, she brushed the soot from the street off her pants, and the two of them walked down the hill toward the end of the street.

  The walk home was in stone silence, and Gabrielle tried to wrap her head around what had happened in Alexandra’s shop. The cobblestone and loose gravel rolled beneath her feet as her left and right foot worked their way in and out of her gaze. I saw her yesterday so how could she have been dead for so long? And what the Hell was that thing that chased me out?

  “Well, I suppose this is it. You go on inside, and I’ll sit on your porch until your mother
comes home. If you need anything at all, Gabrielle, I’ll be right here.” The officer reached out and opened the door for her, but she remained frozen in place as she stared into the foyer of her home. The officer placed his hand in the center of her shoulders as though he was suggesting it was time to go inside.

  She reached into her pocket and felt for her father’s coin, the only tangible thing that could comfort her now. Her fingers pawed at the lint in the bottom of her pocket, but it wasn’t the smooth texture of a coin she felt. The crinkled texture of the note from Alexandra caused her heart to skip a beat, and she jerked her hand out of her pocket like the paper had bitten her.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” Gabrielle’s voice was a near whisper as she walked through her doorway and turned to face the officer.

  “Remember, I’ll sit right here,” he told her, gesturing to the chair on her porch, “so if you need anything, please come and get me.” Gabrielle nodded, and the officer reached into the doorway, pulling the door closed.

  Warm air washed over her face and hands, causing a sharp stinging to devour them. Gabrielle dropped onto the bottom step of the stairs and cried for several minutes before exhaustion overwhelmed her.

  Yawning, Gabrielle took off her shoes and socks and dropped them in a pile on the floor at the foot of the stairs. She was so tired that the room seemed to be spinning and she could hardly stand. Gabrielle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she was standing over the couch in her father’s study.

  The leather was cold as she settled on it, and with a silent shiver, she pulled the blankets left there by her mother up to her chin. This was a day Gabrielle would never forget, but right now she wanted nothing more than to be swept up in the distraction of dream.

  Lying on the sofa, dim light spilling through the opening in the doorway and illuminating the office, Gabrielle pulled her arm out from under the warmth of the blanket and examined the bangle through half-open lids.