by MJ Howson
Dawn took a moment to enjoy the pure shock in Jacob’s voice. She said, “Look, I have no idea what you spent. And if you’re now being forced to move to a new place, I can only imagine the stress you’re under.”
“Dawn, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Meet me at the Vessel at five o’clock today. I’ll have my checkbook with me.” Dawn found herself once again listening to silence. “Jacob?”
“Okay. Okay, sure. Thanks, Dawn.”
“Great. See you then. Goodbye.”
Dawn ended the call and stepped closer to the fire. The smoke smelled acrid and burned her eyes. The stroller’s frame was now warped from the heat. She took another sip of wine and left the patio. Dawn went to the spiral staircase and ascended to the top floor, stopping outside the nursery. The crystal handle appeared dull and faded. She ran her hand against the door and closed her eyes, recalling a past dream that would never come true.
Once upstairs, Dawn brought her wine into the bathroom and placed it on the counter beside the half-torn plastic bag from her recent trip to the drug store. She emptied the bag’s makeup and other items onto the vanity. Dawn ran her fingers across the various boxes, stopping briefly to admire the package of hair dye.
The sapphire pendant Jacob had given her hung from a nearby cabinet pull. Dawn stared at it, struggling to remember when he’d given it to her. It felt like a lifetime ago. Her hazy stare became a glare. Dawn grabbed the pendant and ripped it away, breaking the chain. She gazed at it, shook her head, and tossed it into the trash.
The bottom left drawer held Jacob’s clipper set. Dawn removed the bag, dumped the contents onto the counter, and scanned the various attachments. Dawn then went into another drawer and retrieved a silver comb and a matching pair of scissors. The shears shimmered as she placed them beside the sink. She leaned forward, stared at her reflection, and spent a few silent moments methodically combing her long hair.
“It’s time,” Dawn said. She grabbed the scissors, smiled, and started to cut her hair.
Forty Five
Wrath
The crimson Italian lambskin coat’s length ended just below Dawn’s knees. Its wide hood ruffled in the chilly wind. Leaves and debris swirled around her boots as Dawn made her way down Charles Street, her small black sequined purse bouncing delicately against her leg. A pair of catlike black sunglasses masked Dawn’s face deep within the hood’s shadows. She stopped briefly to listen to the overhead chains rattle in the breeze. Black denim jeans kept her legs warm as she descended the seven steps to Zuni.
Dawn opened the door, causing the brass ring to announce her arrival. The store appeared deserted. Once inside, she removed her glasses and began to browse the rack of clothes. The bloodied wedding gown was no longer there. Dawn smiled, wondering who could have bought such a cursed item.
Janet emerged from the back room, her bifocals resting on the tip of her nose. She looked at the figure with her back to her and asked, “Can I help you?”
Dawn turned and lowered her hood, revealing her short-cropped copper-colored hair. Her makeover included a heavy dose of bright red lipstick and matching nail polish. Deep rouge makeup accentuated her cheekbones, pointing toward her long sculpted eyelashes surrounded by smoky eyeshadow. Dawn unbuttoned her jacket, revealing a vibrant red blouse with a plunging neckline. Eve’s locket glowed against her pale skin.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Dawn said.
“Again?” Janet furrowed her brow and stared at Dawn. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh. Oh, my. Dawn? I . . . I hardly recognized you.” Janet’s eyes settled on Dawn’s necklace, causing her to gasp. “The locket! You found it.”
Leo emerged from the back room and jumped on the counter. The cat’s green eyes were immediately drawn to the locket around Dawn’s neck.
Dawn smiled and gently took the locket in her hand. She flipped the clasp and opened the pendant, exposing the ruby stone inside.
“I see it opened for you,” Janet said. Tears formed in her eyes and slowly spilled down her cheeks. “I knew you were the one. I knew it.”
Dawn snapped the locket closed and briefly held the pendant in the palm of her hand. She said, “I want to thank you. Eve changed my life. More than Jacob or the doctor or any man ever could.”
Janet removed her glasses and wiped the tears from her face. She smiled and said, “I knew you could save her.”
Dawn began to walk along the long glass counter, studying the collection of items lining the shelves. Leo followed her, silently matching each step Dawn took. She said, “This really is a store of wonder. You have so many interesting things.”
“Is there something you’re looking for? Something special?”
Dawn smiled and took a few more steps, stopping in front of the weapons case. Leo immediately walked closer and ran his head against her arm. Dawn gently began massaging the cat’s ears, causing Leo to purr.
The top shelf contained a dozen daggers, each unique in design and material. Dawn found herself drawn to one in particular. She tapped the glass countertop with her fingernail and said, “I like the one on the end.”
Janet looked down, smiled, and nodded. She placed her glasses on, slid the rear cabinet door to the side, and retrieved the dagger. The black onyx handle weighed heavy in her hand. Janet spent a few moments admiring the diamond set in the handle. She placed her arm on the counter and rested the knife against the sleeve of her gray smock, causing the blade to appear extra bright. Janet looked at Dawn and said, “You really do have a bit of Eve in you.”
“No, not that one.” Dawn waved her hand dismissively and then tapped the glass again. “The other end.”
“Oh.” Janet frowned and placed the Camp Ascension sacrificial dagger back into the display case. She reached back inside and let her fingers drag across each knife’s handle until she got to the last one. “This one has an interesting story.” Janet gently selected the dagger and stood up. She opened her palm and presented the weapon to Dawn. “I got this from an estate sale.”
Leo looked at the dagger and hissed before jumping to the floor.
Dawn felt mesmerized as she studied the blade. She looked at Janet and asked, “May I?” Janet nodded, and Dawn took the knife from her. “The detailing is truly lovely.” The five-inch blade felt razor-sharp as Dawn ran her index finger across the edge. “Is that . . . turquoise in the handle?”
“Yes.” Janet pointed at the wooden handle. “It’s obvious whoever made this poured a lot of love into the design. Those are inlaid nickel spacers. The detailing is exquisite.”
“The turquoise is quite beautiful.” Dawn placed the dagger on the countertop. “Where did you say you got this?”
“An estate sale out on Cape Cod. Legend has it the blade was used in a series of brutal killings.”
“Well, you did say everything in this place had a story to tell.”
“I . . . I really thought you would’ve picked the black one.”
“Someone once told me a little pop of color never killed anyone.” Dawn ran her fingers across the dagger’s turquoise inlay. “This one calls to me.”
“Really?” Janet frowned and said, “That’s so . . . odd.”
Dawn looked around the store and said, “I wish I could stay longer and browse some more, but I have an appointment. What’s the price?”
“For the dagger? Oh, please, it’s on me.”
“What? No.” Dawn opened her purse. “I insist.”
“No. Really.” Janet placed her hands on Dawn’s and gently forced her to close the bag. “Consider it a gift. For freeing Eve. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day.”
“Well, thank you.” Dawn picked up the dagger and opened her purse. She frowned and said, “I hope it doesn’t cut a hole in my bag.”
“Oh, wait.” Janet knelt back down and opened a drawer in the bottom of the cabinet. She rummaged through the bags and clutter until she found what she was looking for. She stood up and handed Dawn a brown leather sheath. The thread in t
he stitching was frayed and weathered. “Here. This came with the knife. Be careful. It’s sharp.”
“It’s exactly what I need.”
Dawn slid the dagger into the sheath and then put the weapon in her outer coat pocket. She raised her hood, picked up her purse, and walked toward the door.
Leo jumped back onto the counter and ran to Janet. She pulled him close and began to stroke his neck. Leo closed his eyes and started to purr.
Dawn turned the handle and opened the door. The wind swirled and howled, blowing leaves into the room. Black and gray clouds dotted the sky. She slid her sunglasses on and said, “I think it’s going to be a lovely afternoon.”
∞∞∞
Dawn clutched the dagger in her coat pocket as she stood in the hallway outside Dr. Cole’s waiting room. Her heart raced, but not with fear–with excitement. She took a long slow deep breath and opened the door. Flo looked up from behind her desk in the waiting room and smiled briefly. Luna was asleep sprawled out beside the monitor on Flo’s desk.
“Can I help you?” Flo asked.
“Hi,” Dawn said. The smell of the cat box tucked in the corner instantly hit her, causing her to frown. She removed her glasses and said. “I’m here for my four o’clock.”
“Miss Easton?” Flo asked as she stood up, looking on in disbelief. “Well, look at you.”
Dawn tossed her head back and forth, causing her hair to wave. She spun around to showcase her outfit and said, “What do you think?”
“You look so much better. I never imagined you as a redhead. But I like it. And your makeup is stunning!” Flo shook her head and smiled approvingly. “I . . . I didn’t recognize you.” Flo sat back down and reached for her phone, moving Luna aside. “You’re early. Let me see if he’s ready for you.”
Dawn ignored Flo and walked to Dr. Cole’s door, placing her hand on the knob.
“Wait!” Flo said.
“Is he with someone?”
“No. But . . . you can’t just barge in there.”
Dawn removed her hand from the door handle and walked over to Flo’s desk. She smiled, reached into her pocket, and discretely pulled the dagger from its sheath. She said, “I’m not here for you. I’m here for the doctor.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dawn looked around the waiting room. The artwork on the walls looked dull and lifeless. Flo’s desk and nearby cabinets had pictures of cats and her and her husband. Dawn said, “You never told me why you never had any kids.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why no kids?”
“Oh, I, uh, well . . . .” Flo glanced at the door to Winston’s office and lowered her voice. “He doesn’t like me getting personal with his patients. But, well, I . . . I can’t.”
Dawn slowly slid the knife back into its sheath but kept her hand wrapped around the handle. “You can’t conceive?”
“No.” Flo lowered her head and sighed. “We tried everything but eventually gave up.”
“I see.” Dawn took a few steps back and smiled. A part of her felt angry that Dr. Cole never shared that during their sessions. She wondered if it would have made a difference. At this point, it didn’t matter. “Can you tell him I’m here?”
“Sure.” Flo picked up her phone and buzzed her husband’s office phone. When he answered, she said, “Dawn is here. Can I send her in?” Flo smiled and hung up the phone. She looked at Dawn and said, “He said to go in.”
Dawn walked to the office door and took a deep breath. She entered and closed the door behind her. Luna immediately began to claw at the door from the waiting room. Dawn scanned the room in which she’d spent so many therapy sessions. She felt like she was viewing all of it from behind a glass wall.
The overhead clock’s rhythmic beat ticked relentlessly. The air in here, as always, ran a few degrees cooler than the warmer waiting room. A fine layer of dust seemed to cover everything.
“Dawn?” Dr. Cole asked. His voice sounded as confused as the expression on his face appeared. “Is that really you?”
“I keep forgetting how different I look.”
“You . . . you look like a completely different person.”
“I feel like one.”
Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair and scratched his beard. The springs beneath the seat squeaked as he spun around and grabbed a blank cassette tape. He said, “I’m sorry, Dawn, I wasn’t ready for you. Please have a seat while I get the recorder ready.”
“No recorder today.” Dawn walked into the middle of the room and took a seat on the couch. As she did, she realized she’d never sat here before. The sofa felt lumpy, and the fabric smelled like the cat. She patted her hand on the cushion and said, “Would you join me?”
Dr. Cole stared silently at Dawn. Her request to sit beside her unnerved him. He grabbed a blank yellow notepad, Dawn’s history folder, the notes he’d made during his meeting with Jeffrey Bellows, and a pen. Dr. Cole walked over to the chair that Dawn always sat in and turned it to face the couch, placing him a few feet away. He sat down and lowered his glasses.
The radiator beneath the windows began to hiss and clank. Dr. Cole struggled to sort through the folders and papers in his hands. Dawn studied his drab outfit. The doctor’s gray wool slacks and uninspired gray striped button-down shirt made her think of Caretaker’s dull gray robe. There was, at least, one pop of color.
“I like your cufflinks,” Dawn said. “Turquoise is your birthstone.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, it is.” Dr. Cole glanced at his cufflinks. Luna’s continuous scratching at the door distracted him. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“The timing of your call was perfect. I was planning to see you anyway.”
“Really?” Dr. Cole smiled and flipped through his notes. A few of the papers fell to the floor. He groaned as he leaned down to collect them. “I made some interesting discoveries recently.”
“About?”
“It has to do with your diary.”
“My diary?” A mix of fear and concern filled Dawn. She slid her other hand into her pocket and let it rest on the dagger. The inlaid turquoise and nickel felt calming against her thumb. She allowed her body to relax as she scooted closer toward the doctor. Dawn smiled and asked, “Have you been spying on me?”
“Spying? No. The doll. The diary. Your mother’s past.” Dr. Cole clasped his hands and asked, “Are . . . are you okay?”
“I’ve never felt better.”
Dr. Cole scratched his beard and asked, “How’s Eve?”
“The doll?” Dawn smiled as the doctor nodded. “Gone.”
“Really?”
“You can thank Jacob for that.” Dawn reached up and slid her fingers around the locket around her neck. Her thumb methodically rubbed the engraved W on the front. “He told me it was best for me. He was right.”
“I . . . I see.” Dr. Cole’s eyes widened as he looked at the locket. He turned his attention back to his notes from his meeting with Jeffrey. His hands shook as he feverishly scanned through his poor penmanship. His finger settled on the entry about the locket used in the sacrificial killings. Dr. Cole glanced up at Dawn and said, “I’m . . . I’m concerned about your mental state.”
“You needn’t be.” Dawn ran her red-painted fingernails through her freshly cropped hair. She grinned and slid to the end of the couch directly across from Dr. Cole. “As you can see, I’m a changed woman. I’ve never felt freer.”
The wall clock ticked through several seconds as Dawn and the doctor stared at one another. Dr. Cole sighed and clicked his pen. He grabbed the blank notepad and said, “We never got to talk about your mother. And her diagnosis.”
“What about it?”
“Well, to be blunt, it can be hereditary.”
Dawn leaned forward. She looked around the room as if to confirm they were alone. In a hushed tone, she said, “Can I tell you a secret?”
Dr. Cole lowered his pen and leaned closer. He smiled and, with a reassuring and calm tone, s
aid, “Always.”
“I’m not my mother.”
Dawn pulled the dagger from her pocket and thrust her arm forward, sending the blade deep between the doctor’s ribs and into his heart. Dr. Cole clutched his chest, sending his notes and papers flying. He attempted to cry out, but Dawn quickly covered his mouth with her hand. Dawn found little interest in the terror and fear radiating from his eyes. She stood up and removed the dagger from his chest. As the doctor lunged from his chair, she stepped to the side and watched him fall to the ground. Dawn dropped to her knees and pressed Dr. Cole’s face into the papers scattered on the floor.
“And I never will be,” Dawn said.
In one swift move, she reached around the doctor and used the dagger to slit his throat. Blood soon erupted from Dr. Cole’s neck and began to pool across the faded Persian carpet. One by one, each of the papers containing the doctor’s session notes melted into the rug, soaked by his blood. The handwritten details slowly faded away. Dawn wiped the blade against the doctor’s shirt and returned the dagger to its sheath.
The old Panasonic recorder sat on the corner of Dr. Cole’s desk. Dawn stood up, glared at the recorder, and yanked the power cord from the outlet. As she reached for the tape deck, Luna’s endless scratching on the office door stopped. A shadow appeared beneath the doorway’s lower edge. After a few soft knocks, the door opened, and Flo stepped inside. Dawn turned and looked at Flo and smiled.
“Where’s Winston?” Flo asked. She walked into the room, looking around somewhat confused. As she approached the couch, she saw her husband lying on the floor. “Winston!” Flo rushed toward him and stopped beside the chair. Her eyes widened when she saw the expanding pool of blood. She dropped to her knees and began to shake his body. As tears formed in her eyes, she asked, “What happened?”
Dawn grabbed the tape deck and slowly walked up behind Flo. She said, “Bad men must be punished.” Before Flo could say or do anything, Dawn smashed the recorder into her skull. The plastic case shattered and cracked, slicing her head open. Flo fell silent as her body collapsed next to her husband’s.