Magical Midlife Madness (Leveling Up #1)(36)

My brain recoiled. Created nightmares upon nightmares. Imagined all of these nearly lifelike creatures coming after me, one halting step at a time. One jarring movement after another.

“No.” I shook my head, stepping backward. “Nope. All this has to go.”

Mr. Tom’s confusion was evident. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes you suspect.” I stabbed my finger at him. “Suspect. And you better not be peeking in my room!”

I pushed past Mr. Tom into the hall. No way was I exploring more dark places right now. Rats and spiders were one thing—I’d deal with those. Dolls, though? No. Count me out.

“I would never.” Mr. Tom was quickly on my heels. “If you could, you would see that certain rooms are blacked out. Those are the rooms with the master in them.”

“I’m not the master of this place, so I don’t see how that is relevant.” I turned and jammed my finger through the air once more. “Go close and lock that room. I’m going running.”

My crazy stare brooked no argument. He about-faced immediately.

“Close the secret passageway, too. I don’t want those things running through the walls of the house.”

“They don’t come alive unless the house does,” Mr. Tom yelled back. “And then they are a wonderful army. No one ever expects them.”

“I’ve landed in hell.” I charged into my room, slamming the door behind me, and rushed into my closet. Nothing called to me like it had on the first floor.

“Oh my God, can you even hear yourself, Jacinta?” I huddled in the corner of the closet and quickly changed into running clothes.

I wasn’t even huddling because I cared if he saw my nudity. This drooping, disheveled body hadn’t been the same since having a kid. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like mine, anymore. I couldn’t care less who hazarded a gawk at it.

No, I was huddling because I worried I’d get stuck halfway into my sports bra and he’d see the struggle.

“Young dudes being dragged across the lawn, hot middle-aged men talking about being the town alpha, the weirdest butler in the history of people, and now a room full of militarized dolls? What kind of Hades’s honkeytonk had I landed in? And here I am, in the middle of it all, looking around the closet for moving wooden carvings? This is bad. I’ve slid past a midlife crisis—I’m on a crash course toward insanity.”

It didn’t help that I was full-on talking to myself.

I slipped into my trainers and exited the closet.

Mr. Tom waited for me by the bedroom door with his hands out in front of him. On his palms sat an 80’s style sweatband with a green stripe running through it and two matching wrist bands.

“Nope.” I pushed past him.

“Well at least take some water with you. Here.” He hurried down the hall.

I didn’t wait, instead heading to the stairs.

Mr. Tom met me there, carrying a small backpack with a water tube extending out of the top.

“It was only used once. I decided running wasn’t for me. It’s in great condition.” He got to the bottom of the stairs, his cape fluttering, and held it out. I heard water sloshing within its depths. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

“It was only used once…but did you change out the water?”

He paused in his urgency. His eyes dipped to the backpack.

“Or wash the water tube?”

A relieved smile crossed his face. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t backwash. And water doesn’t go bad.” He extended the backpack a little farther.

There were no words.

“Wait! Do you want me to come with you?” he called after me.

I walked down the stairs and into the cooling night. Although I wouldn’t go running in certain L.A. neighborhoods at night, I wasn’t too worried about O’Briens. Even still, there was Broken Nose Harry and the normal safety concerns of being a woman out at night. I’d only keep one earphone in so I could hear if someone ran up behind me…

I stalled on the walkway, realizing I’d forgotten my earphones in the mad dash out the door. I did have my phone, at least, having managed to slip it into my sweats when huddle-changing in the closet. At least I could call for help or use GPS if needed.

I noticed movement from Niamh’s darkened porch. She stood as I neared.

“What are ye at?” she asked, a rock in her hand and only two next to her chair leg. She was apparently selective in her weapons. “Goin’ for a jog?”

“Yup. Need a little air.”

“Here. I’ll come. Wait there.”

Why did everyone want to escort me everywhere?

As soon as she’d disappeared inside, I took off. I needed alone time, and I felt like pushing myself. It was mean to say but running was a different beast than walking fast. I didn’t want to be held up and Niamh didn’t look so spry.

It only took until the end of the street for me to realize I did want to be held up. By a hammock.

My knee twinged in pain, my lungs burned, and everything ached. Running with music was so much better because I could get lost in the rhythm and lyrics and forget the pain. Forget some of the pain, anyway. Without it, I had nothing to focus on besides each jarring step. Each tree slowly passing. My ragged breath.

Feet thudded behind me rhythmically. Someone faster than me was rushing at me.