by MJ Howson
Luna stood in the doorway, watching, purring, but not moving. Dawn flung the broken recorder beside the two bodies and smiled. She grabbed some tissues from the box on the doctor’s desk and wondered how many times she’d used these to wipe away tears. Dawn cleaned droplets of blood from her hands and then tossed the tissues into the trash.
The Trust plaque caught Dawn’s eye. She picked it up and dropped it on Dr. Cole’s lifeless body. Dawn knelt down and inspected the scattered papers that weren’t yet soaked in blood. Her anger rose as she read through the information about her mother’s trial and detention. She looked at the doctor and said, “I’m not my mother.” She leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “And I’m no longer Dawn.”
Forty Six
The Vessel
Dawn paused at the edge of Hudson Yard’s expansive public plaza, her thick leather hood rippling in the wind. Looming dozens of yards away stood the Vessel. The architectural wonder appeared dark and haunted, the sun slowly falling below the horizon. An orange glow reflected off the structure’s copper edging. Dawn removed her sunglasses and glanced at her watch–4:55 p.m. She took a deep breath and began to walk across the plaza.
A familiar figure caught Dawn’s eye. Joe stood several yards away, decked out in his security guard uniform. Dawn slowly lowered her crimson hood, walked up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder. Joe spun around and gave her a confused look.
“Hi, Joe,” Dawn said.
The confusion on Joe’s face slowly faded away as he looked Dawn up and down. He leaned closer and squinted his eyes. “Miss Easton?” Joe took a small step back and smiled. “I . . . I can’t believe it’s you.”
“I’ve been getting a lot of that lately.”
“You look like a new woman.”
“I am.” Dawn smiled and shoved her hands into her pockets, allowing her right hand to grasp the sheathed dagger. She was surprised by how comfortable it felt in her grip. “I’m done with my doctor. And soon, Jacob.”
“No stroller today?”
“Not anymore. I’ve moved on. Eve’s . . . in a better place now.” Dawn briefly closed her eyes and nodded approvingly. “How are you?”
“Cold. But, it’s the first day of winter.”
“Right. The twenty-first is the winter solstice.” Dawn reached beneath her jacket and allowed her fingers to run across the locket clinging to her neck. “Such a special day.”
“Are you okay?” Joe’s smile faded as he looked on with genuine concern.
“Never better.” Dawn turned and looked up at the Vessel. There seemed to be very few people spread across the multiple levels. “All these trips here, and I’ve never been inside.”
“I seem to recall someone being afraid of heights.”
“I was a different person then.”
“Well, I have to say, you certainly have changed.” Joe nodded as he looked Dawn up and down. “That’s a good hair color on you.”
“Thanks.” Dawn let go of the locket and placed her hand back into her coat pocket. “You once told me a little pop of color wouldn’t kill me.”
“I did?” Joe scratched his chin and smiled. “That’s right. I did.”
Dawn grinned and nodded. Just as she was about to recount the story, Dawn noticed Jacob appear in the far corner of the plaza. She ran her fingers along the brown leather sheath in her pocket. The frayed edges reminded her of the diary. Dawn looked up at Joe and said, “You’re a good man, Joe.”
“Thanks, Miss Easton.”
“You take care.”
Dawn walked away, her eyes focused on Jacob in the distance. Jacob’s head spun as he searched the sparsely populated plaza. He glanced at Dawn a few times but otherwise ignored her. Dawn grinned as she got within a few yards of Jacob. He finally stopped and stared at her.
“Hello, Jacob,” Dawn said. Her greeting was both warm and inviting.
“Dawn?” Jacob replied. His jaw fell open as he walked toward her. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“I love your hair.” Jacob leaned forward and gently kissed Dawn on her cheek. “Red looks good on you.”
“I know.”
“Look, Dawn, I feel I should be up-front with you. If you asked me here to win me back–”
“I haven’t.”
“Oh.” Jacob’s one-word response couldn’t mask his surprise.
“Like I said earlier, this is about payback.” Dawn nodded toward the Vessel as she removed her phone from her purse. “Shall we go inside?”
“You don’t want to talk here?”
“No. Let’s go.” As they headed across the plaza, Dawn added, “I hear the unobstructed views from the top are amazing.”
Navigating the Vessel could at times look to be a daunting task. The eight levels consisted of eighty landings connected by over one hundred and fifty separate flights of stairs. Once inside, Dawn led Jacob up to the second level and then the third. They stopped briefly to admire the view.
“So, how’s the new apartment?” Dawn asked. “You said you were moving today.”
“Oh. Right.” Jacob shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I found a place near Central Park. I think it’s going to work out.” Jacob reached out and gently ran his fingers through Dawn’s hair. “I can’t believe how different you look. Why red?”
“You told me I lived in a world of black and white. Remember?”
Dawn smiled and coyly lowered her head. She turned and walked to the next set of stairs and proceeded up one level. Jacob followed, venting about his bartending and dwindling gym clients. She found his self-absorption to be rather annoying and wondered if he’d always been this way. As they ascended the Vessel, Dawn kept her focus on the handful of people on each level. Jacob’s endless blabbering became nothing but background noise. Dawn knew he was only here for the money.
With each flight of stairs they took, the wind grew in intensity and bitterness. It took a few minutes until they navigated the maze and arrived at the top level. Dawn looked around, relieved to see they were alone. The sub-freezing wind and late hour had kept all but the most diehard tourists away.
Jacob flicked the collar of his wool jacket up to shield the wind. He buried his hands deep within his pockets, looked at Dawn, and asked, “Did we really have to come all the way to the top? It’s freezing up here.”
“I’ve never been. Heights once frightened me.”
“Dawn, you live in a penthouse with two huge patios.”
“I know, but . . . . I’m doing things I never thought I’d do.”
“Really?” Jacob turned his back toward the Hudson, keeping the wind from his face. “Is that part of your therapy?”
“My therapy?” Dawn smiled and chuckled briefly. “No. For what it’s worth, I’m done with the doctor.”
“Why? Dawn, I know you threw those pills away. But–”
“Enough about me and the doctor, Jacob.” Dawn ran her fingers across the polished wooden handle in her pocket. The inlaid nickel felt cold and sterile. “Do you mind answering a question for me? It’s been bothering me for quite some time.”
“Sure.”
“Did you cause my miscarriage?”
“What?” Jacob shook his head and took a step backward until he was able to lean against the railing. He appeared insulted. “How could you even ask me that?”
“Well, it’s become clear to me since losing the baby that you never wanted kids.”
Dawn walked toward the waist-high railing and looked across the Hudson River. The sky had turned a deep shade of blood red. Combined with the twinkling lights of the buildings across the river, Dawn couldn’t help but think of the cosmic nightlight projector in the nursery.
“Dawn, you should know I’d never hurt you.”
Dawn closed her eyes and pictured Jacob smiling as he dropped Eve from the terrace. The horror she’d felt at that moment briefly rippled through her body. She looked over at Jacob standing beside her and said, “Of course.”
T
he blistering wind cut across Dawn’s cheeks and nose, causing them to become numb. She took a couple of steps back and walked in front of Jacob, using his body to block the chilling gusts.
“I wanted to apologize again, Jacob, for the fertility pills,” Dawn said. She stepped closer to Jacob and ran her left hand up and down his jacket. Her other hand kept a deft grip on the weapon in her pocket. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“It’s in the past. Never live with regrets, Dawn. I don’t.” Jacob put his hands on Dawn’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Now, about the money–”
“The doctor told me that relationships are built on trust.” Dawn smiled as she thought of Dr. Cole’s plaque resting on his dead body. “That’s probably the one thing I learned most from all those sessions.”
“I don’t understand. What’s trust got to–”
“Trust is, well, sort of an unspoken rule in a relationship. It’s the foundation. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Jacob shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I . . . I guess. And?”
“When you break a rule, you must be punished.” Dawn kept her right hand wrapped around the dagger’s handle and slowly removed the weapon from its sheath. “Especially bad men.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dawn took a small step back and looked up into Jacob’s deep brown eyes. The scar along his face appeared dark and menacing. She slowly ran the back of her left hand across his face. His stubble felt particularly raw and coarse in the bitter air. Dawn wondered if the cold weather somehow accentuated it or if she’d just never paid it too much attention before. She vaguely remembered a time when he was once so beautiful to her. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder how she had ever loved him.
“You never told me how you got that scar,” Dawn said. She pulled the dagger from her pocket and whipped her arm upward. The blade sliced through the right side of Jacob’s face. Jacob flung his hands up in total shock and pressed his palms against his cheeks. He lowered his trembling hands and stared at the blood.
The position and length of the cut nearly matched the scar on the opposite side of his face. Jacob continued to gaze at his hands, appearing to be in a state of shock. Slowly his eyes settled on the bloody dagger in Dawn’s hand.
“Dawn, what–”
“Dawn?”
Dawn thrust the dagger up and into Jacob’s chest, plunging it deep into his heart. Jacob raised his hands, now covered in blood, and went for Dawn’s throat. She whipped the dagger into one of his hands, causing him to pull away. A small part of Dawn felt surprised by the sheer joy flowing through her. As he stood there confused, Dawn plunged the blade into his neck, piercing the carotid artery. Jacob clutched his throat as blood spewed between his fingers.
Jacob kept one hand on his throat and gripped the railing behind him with the other. He looked around in a panic. The upper three levels were empty. As he tried to call for help, more blood gushed from his throat. His knees began to weaken, and he leaned against the railing as he struggled to hold himself upright. Jacob glanced over his shoulder at the plaza down below. Suddenly Dawn stepped forward, smiled, and shoved him hard, sending him tumbling over the side.
The Vessel’s sculpted copper walls reflected Jacob’s dying body as it plunged to the ground. He slammed shoulder-first into the stone plaza, barely missing a mother pushing a baby stroller. The young mother jumped and looked at the body as if she couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Screams began to ring out as people scattered in different directions. A handful ran to be near the now hysterical mother. Blood slowly pooled beneath Jacob’s dead, twisted body.
Joe’s large hands soon brought comfort to the trembling mother still holding her carriage. He stared at the bloody crumpled body near his feet and then at the terrified woman. Joe slowly pulled her and her stroller away from the blood that continued to seep across the stone. Together, Joe and the young mother looked up.
The cries of confusion echoed off the surrounding buildings and clawed their way to the top of the Vessel. Dawn peered over the railing, her eyes settling on the stroller near Jacob’s lifeless body. The details of the carriage were difficult to make out in the waning light, but Dawn couldn’t help but wonder if it was a Silver Cross Kensington Pram.
Drops of blood dripped from the dagger in her hand. Blood covered the nearby glass wall and much of Dawn’s jacket. The wind howled as it wrapped itself around Dawn’s exposed hands. Dawn wiped the blade against her lambskin coat. Sirens began to blare in the distance. Down below, a circle of people had formed around Jacob’s body. Dawn stepped back from the railing and headed to the closest set of stairs. The adrenaline racing through her body began to subside. As she descended the staircase, she replayed the exchange with Jacob just before he died and how he’d screamed her name.
“Dawn?” She slid the dagger back into the sheath in her pocket, slowly raised her hood, and smiled. “Dawn is dead. My name . . . is Eve.”
Forty Seven
Janet
The clock above the exit to Zuni showed the time to be 5:55 p.m. Janet walked to the front door and locked the deadbolt. She flipped the open/closed sign to Closed and returned to the main counter. The Camp Ascension sacrificial dagger used in Eve’s execution rested inside the display case. The wheels on the cabinet’s door squealed as Janet slid it open and retrieved the knife. She ran her fingertips along the carbon steel blade and then across the silky smooth black onyx handle, pausing to stroke the embedded diamond stone. The tip still felt sharp to the touch. Janet pricked her finger and smiled as a droplet of blood emerged.
“I still don’t know why she didn’t pick you.” Janet licked the blood from her fingertip and used a nearby rag to wipe the tip of the blade clean. She placed the knife on the counter and sighed. Leo jumped up beside her and stared at the dagger. Janet looked at him and said, “Maybe next time.”
Janet turned and headed through the swinging doors into the back room. Leo dropped to the floor and followed her, his tail twitching with curiosity.
The stock room was a tight, crowded space, slightly smaller than the main storefront. Gray metal shelves lined almost every available opening along the walls. The racks were packed with objects and trinkets waiting to be sold. Janet’s infatuation with mystery and the occult far outweighed the size of her store. Online research led to purchases that piled up in the back, waiting for their chance to make it to the front room to be sold.
Janet walked to the back corner of the room and stopped. A chill rushed past her. The storeroom had little ventilation. In the winter months, it ran several degrees cooler than the front of the store. Summertime often found it hot and damp. She gripped her arms and ran her hands back and forth over her sleeves to try and warm her body.
In front of her stood the cedar-lined armoire from the children’s bedroom at Camp Ascension. Its distinctive clawed feet, serpent’s head, and winged top now charred from the fire that had engulfed the building during the FBI’s raid seven years ago. Janet opened the doors and took a deep breath. The inferno’s scent still clung to the scorched wood. A black silk robe hung from a hook on the inside of one of the doors. Janet ran her fingers across the robe until she found the left arm. She held it out and inspected the slash in the garment.
Janet released the robe, allowing it to gently fall back against the door. She walked over to the bathroom tucked in the opposite corner of the stock room. The plinking of dripping water could be heard from outside the doorway. Janet pulled a worn brass chain hanging above the sink. A dust-covered bulb sparked to life and filled the tiny room with a dull yellow glow.
Once inside, Janet tried to twist the faucet tighter to stop the dripping water, but to no avail. Rust stains circled the ivory pedestal sink’s drain. She stared at her reflection in the cracked oval mirror above the sink and slid her fingers beneath her frizzy bangs. As she pushed up and back, her short black hair followed. The elastic bands in the wig flexed and stretched, with a few sections snagging and pulling on Janet�
��s real hair.
Soon the reflection in the mirror revealed Janet’s natural copper hair pinned back tight against her head. She removed each barbie pin one by one and allowed her long hair to fall into place. Janet pushed the left cuff of her dreary gray smock up to her elbow, exposing her skin. The two-inch wound in her forearm had healed poorly, resulting in a jagged raised scar. Janet sighed and said, “Such a bad little girl.”
Janet tossed the wig over the faucet, turned off the light, and returned to the armoire. She removed the ceremonial robe and took her time to put it on and secure the belt, draping the hood over her head. Janet took a step back and opened both doors wide, giving her a full view of the seven shelves inside.
The top shelf that once held Eve’s belongings sat mostly bare. Resting atop a coating of dust sat stacks of pages grouped together–the missing entries from Eve’s diary. Janet grabbed the closest stack and ran her fingers across the deckled edges. She smiled and said, “So many stories to tell.”
The other six shelves each contained a doll wearing a locket, along with the one special item each child had brought with them to camp. A chubby porcelain doll sat on the shelf below Eve’s. The doll had Hugo’s features–light brown complexion, dark brown hair, and overly large chestnut eyes. It wore matching topaz-colored shorts and a collared shirt. A small PEZ dispenser, topped with a sombrero-capped boy’s head, rested nearby.
“Who shall it be?” Janet mused, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the shelves.
Below Hugo sat an African-American doll, sporting a pink dress and matching curved hand mirror. One shelf down was a Latina doll in a sparkling green gown. A layer of dust covered the Magic 8-Ball resting beside the doll. Janet grinned as she scooped the plastic globe into her hands. She asked, “Should I chose Tina?” Janet turned the ball over and watched the answer slowly fade into view–MY SOURCES SAY NO.
Janet sighed and returned the ball to the shelf. She knelt on the floor to check the bottom shelf. A doll very similar to Eve, but with blonde hair, sat there. Janet ran her fingers through the folds in the dark red satin dress. Black soot covered the stuffed red chimpanzee sitting beside the doll. She sighed and said, “I already tried you, Annabelle.” Janet rubbed her eyes and frowned. “Who would Eve want most?”