Page 12 of Dolls of Ruin

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Wait—did you just call him Famine?”

I paused, caught off guard. “Uh... yeah? I guess I did.”

Her grin widened, and she shook her head. “You’re seriously naming them now? Like, I know you’re creative, but this is next-level spooky chic.”

“They just… come to me,” I said with a shrug, brushing dust from his shoulder. “I don’t think about it—it just fits.”

Riley arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Sure. And next you’ll tell me they whispered their names to you in your sleep. You’re out here naming dolls like a gothic poet, and I’m supposed to just roll with it?”

I waved her off, trying not to laugh. “It’s better than calling them ‘Creepy Guy One’ and ‘Creepy Guy Two.’”

“Debatable,” Riley shot back, setting Famine down and reaching for the sleek, black-suited doll I’d saved for last. His raven-black hair and sharp, almost sorrowful gaze made him both eerie and captivating. “And this guy? Death himself?”

“Pretty much,” I admitted. “He’s kind of... inevitable, isn’t he?”

Riley rolled her eyes, smirking. “Okay, Miss Dark and Broody. Let’s hope someone else out there shares your spooky taste.”

We moved on to the next group, and Riley picked up a broad, ruby-eyed doll. The faint gleam of his crimson accents caught the light as she tilted him toward me. “This guy’s definitely the CEO of Creepy Inc.,” she said. “He’s got that whole ‘I’m in charge, and you know it’ thing going on.”

I laughed softly, adjusting his pose. “I was thinking of calling him Power. He feels... commanding.”

“Commanding? Sure. But also like he’s secretly plotting a corporate coup,” Riley said, setting him next to Revenge on the shelf. The two of them together looked sharp enough to cut glass, their ruby and jagged contrasts both clashing and complementing each other.

As I moved to grab another doll, Riley whistled low. “Well, hello, Trouble.”

She was holding the pale one now, his smirk infuriatingly self-assured. The glossy black accents on his suit gleamed under the light, but it was his eyes that stood out the most—deep and dark, with an almost predatory glint.

“He’s a charmer,” I said, brushing some lint from his shoulder. “But also… dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Please. He’s got homewrecker energy,” Riley quipped. “You should call him Lust.”

I paused, a strange chill prickling at the back of my neck, and my eyes found hers. “That’s… exactly what I was thinking.”

Riley arched an eyebrow at me but said nothing as she set Lust next to Indulgence. Together, the dolls from this set practically radiated temptation and control, their dynamic impossible to ignore.

When Riley reached the stitched cloth dolls, she froze, holding up one with mismatched fabrics and a jagged grin. “This one’s weirdly… charming,” she said, studying him. “In a chaotic, unhinged sort of way.”

“That’s Nico,” I said automatically, then winced at her expression. “What? It suits him.”

“Sure it does,” she said, smirking. “And what about his friends here?” She gestured to the rest of the dolls from his set.

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the doll with deep green accents and sharp fangs. I hadn’t said it out loud, but in my head, I’d started calling himVenom.The name felt right, like it had been there all along, waiting to surface.

Then there was the one with piercing red eyes and a stitched chest. He reminded me of a hunter—sharp, deliberate, and deadly. And the shadowy one, sleek and intense, his stare predatory enough to make me feel like prey.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” I lied with a shrug, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “But I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opinions when I do.”

Without waiting for her response, I shifted my focus to the final box on the bench, the weight of its presence demanding my attention. These ones were different—more commanding, almost regal in their presence. The first doll had slicked-back black hair, his tailored crimson and black suit giving him an air of dangerous authority. The kind of danger that demands silence, as if speaking might draw its attention. The second had platinum blonde hair and curling black horns, his navy suit glinting faintly under the light. Both of their expressions were intense, like they were quietly calculating my every move.

“Damn,” Riley said, carefully lifting one. “These two feel like bosses. What’s their deal?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” I admitted, though something about them screamed wrath and decay. “They’re… a lot.”

“A lot is right,” she said, setting them down together. “These two could headline their own horror franchise. If the rest of them are the supporting cast, these guys are the villains.”

I sighed, stepping back to look at the shelves. The dolls were staged in their respective groups, their eerie elegance somehow making them look even more lifelike. “You think people will buy them?”

Riley snorted. “Claire, people will buy anything if you market it right. Play up the mystery. Use words like ‘vintage’ and ‘rare.’ Maybe even ‘handcrafted.’ Just don’t start writing love letters to them in the listings, okay?”

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