Death Mask by Michael Devaney

Chapter 1
    Andria Walker thought she was alone.
    As head curator for the Atlanta Museum of Curiosities, she found herself working late to finish up last minute details for tomorrow morning’s highly anticipated, July fourth—Death Mask exhibit—when she heard whispering down the hall.
    Odd? She thought. All the doors were locked and no one, except her, was allowed inside until morning.
    Unnerved, she narrowed her eyes and stared down the museum’s long, shadowed hallway. Her first thought was to call the police, but that would take too long. Instead, she uncoupled her fingers from the pair of scissors she held in one hand and released the welcome banner from the other, allowing it to fall to the floor.
    Kneeling, she gently laid the scissors on top of the banner then stood and proceeded toward the muffled sounds. She wanted to catch the culprit, or culprits, red-handed.
    Speed walking down the hall, the rapid click-clack of her high-heeled shoes echoed off the expansive marble floor. When she reached the entrance of the first display room she stopped and nonchalantly poked her head inside fully expecting to expose the guilty party.
    The room was empty.
    Perplexed, Andria stood in place and listened. Seconds later she heard the mumbling sounds again. Although still low and garbled, they definitely sounded closer than before, leaving only one option: the newly decorated centerpiece room housing the Death Mask artifact.
    Andria turned red. She was miffed at the thought of someone breaking the rules to sneak a peek after she’d worked so hard to ensure the room’s privacy.
    She slipped off her high heels and hooked their straps over two upturned fingers then tiptoed to the edge of centerpiece room and peered inside. The room was well-lit, but empty, save for several small exhibits lining the outer walls and one large pedestal parked in the middle of the room displaying the prized Death Mask.
    “Who’s there?” she questioned.
    There was no reply.
    She exercised caution as she entered the room and rounded its perimeter in a clockwise direction. When she found nothing amiss, she stood with her back to the door facing the center of the room. The mask was a mesmerizing sight. Intrigue drew her toward the pedestal. She stepped forward a few paces then stopped. Hearing strange noises then being alone with the mask was intimidating. She drew in a deep breath and brushed dangling brunette curls away from her face then looked down upon the mask with uneasy reverence.
    Incased behind three inches of thick glass and resting comfortably against a twelve inch, black satin pillow, the museum’s strategically positioned spotlights highlighted the mask’s every facial feature giving it an eerie life-like appearance. But it was the mask’s tranquil expression that captured Andria’s interest most. Focusing her gaze into its blank, plaster-filled eyes, she was near daydreaming when the tip of the mask’s nose twitched. Although subtle, the twitching broke the temporary spell she was under.
    No. She thought. That’s impossible. My eyes must be playing tricks.
    Hoping to refute her ridiculous imagination, she fixed her gaze back upon the mask and concentrated all her attention on the white plaster nose. She stared and waited. Fifteen seconds passed then thirty with nothing happened. Then, just as she was ready to abandon the notion, the mask abruptly skewed its eyebrows to look up into her eyes and positioned its lips as though it were about to speak.
    “Ahhh,” Andria screamed, jerking her head back.
    Although her mouth stayed agape she was unable to breathe as a violent wave of uncontrollable shivers ran the length of her body. The mask seemed unfazed by her reaction and started mumbling something incomprehensible through the glass. Seconds later, adrenaline hit her bloodstream. She flung her heels haphazardly into the air and initiated a mad scramble to back away from the podium. Already in the full throes of an awkward back