“He’s to go to the girl, and the rest of you can get out of my house.”
“Monsieur.” The French doctor’s voice oozed with flattery as he addressed the husband. “I’ve come a very long way. Surely we can work something out?”
But the drunken haze of the husband’s eyes lifted at last, and he stared at his wife now with a wondering kind of pride. “We may not be rich, but we have our rights. If Emily says John’s to go to the girl, then that’s where he’ll go.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Dr. Lerner asked angrily.
Unflinching, the giant’s mother met his gaze.
“You can go straight back to hell, where you came from.”
33
That was amazing!” James grinned at her from across the moving carriage.
Molly cringed, swallowing back the bile in her throat. She’d been as thrilled as he was until realization of what they’d done hit her. “That poor mother sold her son.”
James frowned. “The family will still get to hold a funeral for him, and then science will get his body.” They’d left the giant with his family for now, promising to collect him later.
Molly slumped against her seat. She could not stop seeing Kitty’s tail swimming in LaValle’s jar. She was no better than him now, buying anomalies just so that she could continue her studies. Know more. Be more.
“How much did you pay them?”
James hesitated before answering. “A hundred dollars.”
The number sent a chill up her spine. It was enough money to pay rent on the giant’s house for a year at least. And yet . . . it was so little. She had no doubt the other doctors would have paid ten times as much.
“And what does Dr. LaValle mean to do with his giant now that he has it? Lock it up in the attic with his other toys?”
James’s face brightened, and Molly flinched at his eagerness. “Of course not! The giant’s far too valuable. He’s going to hold one of the greatest anatomy lectures the world has ever seen!”
That explained Ava’s mysterious party.
“So the boy’s to be another pig’s head. And you’re to help.”
A hurt look crossed his face as he yanked at the stiff knot of his cravat, loosening it.
“I thought we were friends.”
“Friends don’t try to kiss each other.”
James shifted uncomfortably. “I like you.”
“I thought you respected me. That you wanted to work with me because of my skills, not because I . . . I amuse you.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
“I do respect you!”
“I don’t see you trying to kiss any of the other students!”
James bowed his head, looking ashamed. “No,” he said softly. “But then none of them are like you, are they?”
She did not know how to respond. “But you like Ursula,” she said finally.
James laughed. “That’s just who my family wants me to marry,” he said dismissively. “She was never my choice.”
“Then perhaps you don’t deserve her!” she said. She thought of how earnest Ursula was, each time she spoke of James, the poor girl even following Molly into the depths of the city to claim him.
They rode in silence for several minutes before James spoke again. “I’m not supposed to be a doctor either. Did you know that?”
Molly raised an eyebrow. “Why? Don’t the surgeon’s aprons come in silk?”
“Because it isn’t done,” James said, ignoring the dig. “Men of a certain station, families like mine, we don’t make money with our hands; we make it with our minds.” He scoffed. “That’s what Mother says, anyhow. But I know the truth. It’s dead money. Anyone who actually worked for it came years before me. We sit there, in our gentlemen’s clubs, and let the ghost money roll in. We’re parasites, Molly. No better than the leeches the doctor uses to ease swelling.”
She was stunned to hear him use the same word for himself that Tom had.
“Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?” she said. “Because I don’t.”
“Certainly not. Dr. LaValle has been incredibly generous, letting me work for my studies when my family wouldn’t pay him. I only want you to understand that I’m here to do something important with my life. With this body, I’ll have that chance. We both will.”
It was uncomfortable, being lumped so cozily in with someone so unlike her.
Molly poked her head out the window, trying to catch a breath of air.
A familiar street appeared, and before she could stop herself, she yelled to the driver to stop.
A loud cry of “Whoa!” sounded as the horses jerked to a halt.
“What are you doing?” James looked anxiously at her as she reached for the door. “You can’t mean to get out here!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Molly, I don’t think you know what this place is. Some of the less savory students come here after lectures. They . . .”
But before he could protest further, she got out, hurrying toward the bright-red door.
Inside the Red Carousel, the colorful crowd enveloped her like a warm blanket. Here, in the crush of drunks, fairies, and soaring swordsmen, she was able to breathe.
An elbow nudged her ribs. Molly looked down to find Kate, grinning. “Hey, Knife Girl! You going up tonight?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Lot of sailors. Gonna catch myself a captain.” She winked. As a man wearing a goat’s-head mask slipped past, Kate stood on tiptoe and grabbed two full mugs of beer, handing one to Molly.
She accepted gratefully. “Have you seen Ginny?”
Kate downed half her beer in a swallow before answering. “She’s working upstairs. Goes on in half an hour, though, if you can wait.”
“Sure. Let her know I’m here, would you?”
Kate nodded and set aside the half-empty beer. Doing a showy backbend, she tumbled away into the crowd.
Molly made her way toward an empty table but stopped short when a knot of familiar faces caught her eye. A group of half a dozen medical students surrounded a large table, two full pitchers between them.
She tried to duck her head, but it was useless.
“Molly Green!”
Peter Brule stood awkwardly, waving her over. “Here! Molly Green! Come have a drink.”
She hesitated. She considered just turning and disappearing back into the crowd. But what was the point? They’d already seen her.
She moved to join them and saw, too late, James already seated in their midst.
“I thought I told you I was fine.”
“I’m here for my own entertainment,” he answered stiffly.
“Come now, Molly,” Peter cut in. “Don’t be glum. We’ve just heard about your victory! A real giant’s body! That surely deserves a celebration. Let us buy you a drink.”
“You told them?”
James looked away. She wanted to be angry, but he’d at least given her credit. He could have claimed it for himself.
“I can’t believe it!” Peter said. “Hasn’t been a real giant since Byrne in London. We all thought this fellow was just a rumor.”
“No,” said Molly, thinking of the mother’s anguished grief as she stroked the dead boy’s forehead. “He’s real.”
She wondered how long LaValle had known about him.
Elijah Solder gave her a good-natured slap on the back. “And now he’s ours—well done! After the lecture, we’ll have the most famous school in the country.”
“Here now,” Peter said, refilling Molly’s beer. “We were just discussing a case up in Newark.” He pulled out a notebook from his pocket. “Twelve-year-old male found dead with a rash around his sternum. No other visible signs of distress. What do you think, Molly?” He looked at her eagerly.
Flushed with pleasure at being asked her op
inion, Molly lost herself in the discussion.
“Was the rash raised or flat?” She began to run through a list of ailments, letting herself forget about the giant.
Only when beer and the necessity of a full bladder demanded it did she finally extricate herself from the table.
Glancing toward the stage, she looked for Ginny, but it was empty.
A memory of the giant’s crying mother, her body bent over the kitchen table, assaulted her.
She tried to take it away with another drink, but it would not leave.
My little boy.
It was no different than any other body, she reminded herself. She’d simply done her job. That was all.
The giant wasn’t Kitty.
But looking back at the table of eager medical students, James at their helm, she felt an emptiness swell inside her.
When had she become so comfortable amongst them? Someone who could buy a person’s corpse from his own mother without blinking?
A panicky feeling fluttered inside her chest. A darkness that waited, ready to unfurl its wings.
Come with me, Molly. Please.
Taking another swig of beer, she washed it away, suddenly desperate to see Ginny.
Setting down her drink, she pushed through the crowd and made her way upstairs.
* * *
“Molly! What are you doing here?” Hans met her on the landing.
“I need to see Ginny.”
“She’s working.”
“Just for a minute. Please.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s impossible right now. If you just wait downstairs, I—”
“For God’s sake, Hans.” A yellow door had swung open and a wizened face peeked out. “Let the child wait with me.”
“It isn’t—”
“I’ll kick her out if you find me any customers.” The Duchess winked.
Hans sighed. “All right. Go on, then. I’ll send Ginny your way when I can.”
Gratefully, Molly followed the Duchess inside.
The room, like its owner, was full of decaying decadence. Grand silk rugs with rips down the middle covered the floor in mismatched elegance. A small intricately carved Chinese table leaned against one wall, its red-lacquered surface stacked high with cracked china teacups and saucers, some half-full. Everything smelled like musty lilac.
“Sit down.” The Duchess motioned to a chair. Molly sank into it with a sigh, the horsehair velvet releasing a cloud of dust. “What’s the matter, child?”
She bit her lip. “Nothing.”
The Duchess nodded, then reached up to stroke the wispy tendrils of her beard. “Oh, I’ve had many a nothing wrong with me too.”
Molly felt a sob rise in her throat.
“I know you won’t believe me,” the Duchess said softly, “but whatever it is, it will pass. Everything passes. Was a time when men would have paid fortunes just to dance with me. Now look.” She grinned a crooked smile.
“I’m sure you were very beautiful.”
“It wasn’t my beauty they wanted.”
Molly thought again of Kitty, her friend’s beautiful face filling with hope as she dreamed about her future. She’d looked like a painting of one of the saints. And all of it—all of that kindness and joy and possibility—was gone, lost in a single night, because of a man. And Molly had let it happen.
“What do they want?” she asked.
The fire flicked bits of its heat over the old woman’s skin, pulling the veins to a blue shimmer, like fish surfacing beneath translucent water. “To hurt you, I suppose. Makes them feel bigger. I was just different enough to thrill them.” A quick knife slash of pain crossed her face.
Molly sprang from her seat. “Duchess?”
The old woman’s tiny head stayed bowed. Her frail shoulders rose and fell in panting gasps.
“Should I get someone?”
The Duchess shook her head, then after a few more seconds, she looked up. “No. It’s passing.”
Molly hesitated. “What about medicine? Let me help you.”
The Duchess laughed, but the sound was bitter. “There’s nothing left medicine can do.” Her eyes rose to meet Molly’s with a feverish glare. “Sometimes I get tired of waiting. Sometimes, I wish it would all just end—”
A loud sound cut off the Duchess’s words. It took a few seconds for Molly to figure out what it was.
Cheering. It was accompanied by claps and stomping so booming that they shook the floor beneath Molly’s feet. The Red Carousel was always unruly, but this noise was another level entirely. Something big must have taken place.
“Let me see what’s happening,” she said to the Duchess.
The old woman nodded, and Molly left, hurrying out of the room.
Downstairs, the Red Carousel was in complete chaos, the already rowdy bar exploding with excitement.
It was the bone men and working girls leading the celebration, but the other customers had happily joined in. Sugar and Spice stood on tables with freshly popped bottles of champagne. They were leaning over to pour the frothing liquid directly into patrons’ mouths. Onstage, Father Midnight was leading the crowd in a chant, and Maudlin Martha and her brother were handing anyone within reach a free beer.
“What’s going on?” Molly grabbed the first person she saw, one of the boys with a red shoelace like Tom’s.
He looked at her, grinning. “They caught the bastard!”
Her heart stilled. “Who?”
“The Knifeman.”
Molly took a step back, hairs standing up along her arms.
“The Tooth Fairy!” the boy went on. “It were him all along. He’s the Knifeman. Been killing all those girls and cutting them to ribbons, to sell bits of ’em for parts.”
“The Tooth Fairy,” Molly repeated numbly. So Ava had been right. Molly felt as if she’d stepped into some sort of play and was simply reciting her lines. She shook her head to clear it. “Have they arrested him?”
The boy nodded, pleased. “Caught the fellow red-handed. Found pieces of bodies in the back of his wagon, ready to sell.”
Molly tried and failed to feel the excitement she should have at this announcement. It had been all she’d wanted—to find the Knifeman. And now the police had.
But somehow, the realization left her cold. None of this would help Kitty. It wouldn’t bring Kitty back.
People don’t come back once they’re gone.
She smiled wanly, releasing the boy. “Thanks.”
“Say, ain’t you that girl with the whip? The one that . . .”
Molly didn’t wait to let him finish. Instead, she hurried back up the stairs to find Ginny.
* * *
Unsettled, Molly made her way down the hall. Raising her fist, she knocked on Ginny’s door, eager to throw herself into her friend’s familiar embrace.
But when the lavender door swung open, it wasn’t Ginny who emerged.
Edgar White’s face appeared, sluglike against the dark, as he closed the door behind him. He looked surprised to see Molly but quickly regained his composure. “Finally found a line of work that suits you?” His forehead glistened with sweat, and when he leaned closer, there was liquor on his breath. “You asked me what happened to your friend. Do you still want to know?” The edges of his lips raised in a sly smile.
Molly didn’t answer.
“I fucked her.” Edgar’s words landed hot on her cheek. “Watched that freak’s tail wiggle while she squealed. Then I told all the boys about her. My, how we laughed.”
All thoughts of the Tooth Fairy disappeared. This. This was the boy who’d stolen Kitty.
“She was pregnant.” The words flew from her in a fury, a hundred hurts finally set free. “It wasn’t just her who died!”
Edgar looked shocked, but only for a moment. “Then I guess she did u
s both a favor, killing herself.”
There they were. The words she could not face. Without thinking, her hand dove into her pocket for her knife.
She wanted to cut away his words.
His mouth.
His face.
Instead, she watched him go, the shape of his back a stain spreading into the dark.
* * *
The door slammed open, and Ginny appeared, fastening her robe. Her face was pink with exertion, her hair an uncoiled nest.
When she saw Molly, her face broke open in a smile of relief. “Molly! Thank God. I’ve been worried sick. It’s Gertrude. She . . .” The smile faltered. “Is something the matter?”
“You can’t sleep with people like that.” Molly’s voice was empty. There was nothing left inside, just a hole where Kitty used to be.
Watched that freak’s tail wiggle while she squealed . . .
Ginny looked confused. “That fellow that just left? It’s my job, Molly. You know that.”
“It’s disgusting what you did.” She did not know if she was talking to Ginny or herself.
Ginny took a step back, hurt flashing across her face.
“Aye? Is that right?”
“Yes.” She did not know how to tell Ginny what she really meant. That Edgar would hurt her. That even if he didn’t kill her, he would claim a part of her, steal her from Molly the way he’d stolen Kitty. “He’s using you.”
“No, I’m using him.” Ginny’s face hardened. “And at least it’s my own body I sell.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just maybe you need to ask yourself which one of us is disgusting.”
The words did their job, worming their way into the widening cracks of Molly’s heart and breaking it entirely.
The world around her wavered, threatening to fold.
Ginny reached out, and for an instant, Molly thought she was going to embrace her. Instead, she took hold of the door and slammed it closed.
34
Molly woke in a fever, bedsheets soaked with sweat.
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