CHAPTER NINETY TWO – FEAR FACTOR

Just when Jasmine felt certain her racing heart would burst from her chest, the black corridor disgorged them into a small antechamber of some sort. Their spectral docent immediately began shedding flickering illumination across the cramped, claustrophobic space, his lantern light glancing off...off... "Oh dear god," Jasmine choked out in a strangled whisper. Frozen, wide-eyed waxen figurines had been artfully arranged in a horrific tableau - that of a beautiful young woman lying in a pool of mock blood, a shattered mirror and shards of jagged glass littering the crumpled bedlinens around her still. "The Agatha exhibit," the old man wheezed in a tone of perverse delight. "When Mother Beauregard caught her new daughter coveting the family's wealth and dreaming of leaving her whelp of a son, she waited till the honeymoon to administer some...permanent discipline." Claire took one rapt look at the waxen murder scene and let out an audible squeak, her eyes sparking in a queer amalgam