The Dollmaker by Morgan Shamy

6

VANISHING POINT

Later that day, Dawn peeked inside Nora’s shop, squinting in the dark. Candles were spread out over the space, flickering in the dim light. The flames cast shifting, dancing shadows on the walls as she stepped inside.

“Nora? Are you here?”

Herbs and trinkets lined the shelves that encompassed the room. Animal pelts, skulls, and other strange bones were strewn around, along with frogs in jars. Beads were hung in a doorway to the back. The room was eclectic and had an unearthly aura, as if Dawn had stepped onto another planet. Rustling came from the back, and Nora emerged, her jet-black hair hanging in braids over her face and the neckline of her white robe plunging. She glided forward, a human skull in hand.

“Dawn, I didn’t expect you so soon. Have you run out of your herbs?”

Dawn eyed the skull, then pulled out her medical pouch and peered inside. “I am running low on turmeric and carbolic. I could use some lavender too.”

Nora set the skull down on a nearby shelf, her long fingers running along it. She moved across the room, her white robe swishing over her bare feet, and started gathering the herbs Dawn had asked for.

“You seem different,” Nora said. “Something has happened in your life.”

Dawn blinked and drew her brows together. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Nora’s mouth curved upward. “You’ve met someone. Someone who has made an impact on you.”

Gideon’s face immediately surged to mind, and she tried to shove it away.

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s just me. Unless you’re talking about Arthur Hemsworth. The man my mother is determined to marry me off to.”

Nora stopped and spun around. A fine line creased her forehead. “Perhaps, but I don’t think that’s it.” Her eyes glazed over, and her expression went blank before her eyes cleared. “If you want some herbs that will kill the old man, I’d be happy to supply you with some.”

Dawn let out a laugh, snorting. “I’ll let you know if it comes to that.”

Nora returned to the herbs, gathering a few vials that contained the ingredients. She passed them to Dawn, who then exchanged a few coins for her service. Nora gave a satisfied smile, her dark braids framing her pale face.

“You should come to a séance I’m having tonight. You might find it interesting.”

Dawn’s lips twitched. “Thanks for the invite, but I haven’t slept for days, I’d probably fall asleep and wake the dead with my snoring.”

Nora chuckled, waving her hand. “Fine. But I’m going to get you there one of these days.”

Dawn smiled. “Good luck tonight. And thank you for the invite.” She waved as she exited the front door. Leaving her shop took ten pounds off her shoulders. Though they were friends, there was something off about the woman.

In the town square, Dawn stepped into the fresh air, a buzz of noise around her. People bustled back and forth, shopping, walking down the sidewalks, crossing the cobblestone road. Ladies sold seeds on the corner, with a few selling flowers and other items. She took in the shops lined tightly together, including Dr. Miller’s office just across the way. She wasn’t needed today, but she could do some more reading. There was a book on cleaning out wounds she was interested in.

She started across the street, keeping her medical pouch close to her side. She walked by a few shops and eateries. As she passed an alleyway, a movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she paused.

Caldwell had Rose in a firm grip, her body yanked up close to his. Rose struggled to get out of his embrace, her fur coat sliding off her shoulder. Caldwell pulled her closer, lifting a hand up to her face and stroking her cheek. Rose grunted and tried to shove him off, but his grip was too strong.

Dawn’s heart took off, and she was paralyzed for a moment, before reality kicked in.

“Rose!” She threw herself into the alleyway, darting forward. “Get off of her!”

Caldwell’s face faltered, before he zeroed in on Dawn. He fumbled back a step and straightened his coat.

“Healer,” he said. He turned to Rose and gave her a small bow. “I’ll see you in class later, Miss Waterford.” He brushed past them without another word.

Rose clutched her coat to her chest, her wide eyes moist. Her lips trembled as she rushed into Dawn’s arms. She embraced her tightly.

“Oh, thank you,” Rose said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Dawn took her arms and held her back. “What were you doing down here with him?” She peeked at the trash littered on the ground, the two buildings surrounding them high over her head.

“He said he needed to discuss the pas de deux,” she said. “I didn’t think . . . I don’t know what he . . . he started talking about my engagement party tonight and that he wanted to meet with me. It felt . . . quite improper, like . . .” She swallowed down a hiccup.

“It’s okay,” Dawn said. “We won’t let that happen.” Though the thought of Chester burned through her chest. “Rose, there’s something else we need to talk about. It’s Chester. He—”

“No,” she said. She shook her head and her blonde curls bounced. “I don’t want to know. I’m already giving my life to him, he’s already taking everything from me, I can’t bear to think about it anymore.”

She bit her pink lips, and in that moment, she looked as if she were five years old, eyes terrified as if a monster were under her bed. Dawn quickly pulled her into another hug, and her light perfume wafted inside her nose. Rose’s thin body trembled, and Dawn held her tighter. She would do anything to protect her. She didn’t deserve this fate.

Rose stiffened, and Dawn pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

Rose lifted up a hand and pointed, her eyes widening. Screaming ricocheted from the square, and Dawn jerked upright. She peeked behind her. “What’s that?”

Rose moved forward a few steps. “Something’s happening.”

The two girls moved swiftly back down the alley and emerged into the sunshine. A group of people had gathered, surrounding the fountain that roared in the middle of the square. A statue of a robed woman spurted water from her mouth, its peaceful sight a contrast to the screaming below it.

“Come on.” Dawn marched forward, pushing her way to the front of the group. But she lost all confidence when she saw what had gathered the crowd. She clasped her hands over her mouth, faltering.

A young girl lay before her, lifeless on the ground, her eyes glazed and directed toward the blue sky. Her skin was papery and wrinkled, like it was starting to sink in on itself. A horrid smell wafted off her and people covered their noses. Her silk skirt was pushed up quite indecently, showing her thighs—or what was left of one of her thighs. Right above the knee, her bone was cut cleanly across, the skin folded neatly over. Whoever had amputated the lower half of her leg had known what they were doing.

Dawn spotted a tiny, folded piece of paper tucked into the girl’s bodice. She quickly bent down and retrieved the note, pocketing it before anyone saw it. People gave her odd looks, but she backed away, leaving Rose staring at the horror. She fumbled with the note, opening it swiftly.

Another step of my ultimate masterpiece.

That was all it said. Her fingers shook, and she pocketed the note once more. She didn’t know why she took it. It was an impulse.

“What was that?”

The voice came from behind, cutting straight through her core. She paused, knowing he was there, knowing she could never mistake that voice. She felt his presence hovering behind her, and she slowly turned.

Gideon looked as proper as ever in his silk shirt with a handkerchief and a black fedora tipped over his head. The color matched the deep hollows in his cheeks. He appraised Dawn with a quizzical expression, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Nothing that is of your concern.”

“Oh? I saw you pick that note up from the body. It seems like a clue. Are you really going to withhold it from me after everything I’ve disclosed to you about my Sophie?” Emotion caught at his voice.

Her hand hovered over her pocket, hesitating, until she sighed. “Fine.” She retrieved the paper and handed it to him.

Gideon quickly opened the parchment, his eyes scanning back and forth, and lowered it.

“You’re going to let this happen? You know this is the Dollmaker, right? How can you stand by and do nothing?”

“I . . .” She didn’t have a voice. This was the Dollmaker? Of course it was. But still, she asked, “Are you sure it’s him?”

He gave her a pointed look. “I’m keeping this. If you come to your senses and decide to help me, you know where to find me.”

And he turned and marched away.

Dawn sat in her bedroom, gazing out her open window. She peered up at the moon. Little wisps of clouds stretched over the golden orb. Stars dotted the sky, and a cool breeze wafted in.

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Rose about Chester. Their engagement party was happening right now. Who knew how it was going? It wasn’t often that she wished she were still considered higher class, but every once in a while, she couldn’t help but dream of what it would be like to attend one of those parties. The dresses. The dancing. The food.

Her mother had put her in dance lessons as a child—back when they’d had more money. She’d even once had a few nice dresses—silks and laces, with bows and ribbon. She remembered trips out to her grandfather’s estate with gardens that circled the stone home, and she’d spend hours running through the maze of flowers into the evening until the fireflies came out.

Her uncle owned the estate now but had cut off her father completely after he’d defaulted on the multiple loans her uncle had given him. Now they were left alone to fend for themselves, though her mother still wouldn’t admit to their circumstances. She spent what little money they had on her own dresses, trying to look the part of a lady in high society.

Dawn peered down at her own loose white blouse and sighed. She really should have spoken to Rose. Chester was going to get away with his devious behavior, and Rose was going to have to live with it.

Thoughts of the events of the day cut through her mind, and the vision of the poor dead girl painted itself in her head. Her body hadn’t yet started to decompose. How long had it been since the Dollmaker mutilated her? Who was she? What kind of life did she have? By the looks of her dress, she’d had money. It shouldn’t take too long to identify her, if a report had been filed for her absence.

Another step of my ultimate masterpiece.

What did that mean? He had taken her leg, what else would he do? Was she only a piece of his next puzzle? The image of what Gideon had painted in her head of the girl stitched together with different body parts surfaced. Her stomach twisted, and she stood up from the window. She paced back and forth on her wood floor, the boards creaking. She knew her mother would yell at her for making such a racket, but she didn’t care. Let the ceiling squeak.

Guilt ate at her insides for not helping Gideon. The look he’d given her today appeared in her head, the disappointment in his voice. He truly did think she could help, but she knew she couldn’t. She was a healer, not a detective. But the amputation had been done with skill. The Dollmaker knew how to cut it just right. Perhaps she could ask around and find surgeons who traveled through the area. Tools would have to have been purchased between here and New York.

No.

It was absurd. She wasn’t going to get involved.

She wrung her hands out in front of her, continuing to pace. She couldn’t stay in here any longer. She needed to speak with Rose before it was too late. She’d never forgive herself if Rose lived the rest of her life in misery.

She crept into the hallway and clicked the door closed behind her. The stairs creaked as she descended, but there was no movement from the parlor. Her mother must have been asleep. She snatched her coat off the rack and buttoned up the front before retrieving her gloves and scarf, sliding them on. She slipped outside without being noticed.

Cool air stung her cheeks and she peered up at the sky, where a few more clouds had moved in. A gust of wind blew past her, and Dawn tucked her coat in closer around her. Drops of rain started to splatter down, but she didn’t care. Rose was more important.

The lampposts’ light reflected in the puddles on the road and Dawn edged around the water, keeping to the sides of the street. Silence settled in her chest. It was as if the world paused—there were no sensations around her. No noise. No hustle of everyday life. Just quiet, stillness, where she could finally think.

It was just her and the air around her, pushing in and out of her lungs. The crispness cleared her head, placing her senses on full alert and making her aware of every droplet on the ground, every splatter on her head. She could feel her blood traveling through her body, every beat of her steady heart.

Until she thought of the Dollmaker once more. With each step, the air cooled further. The puddles on the ground seemed too still. The night too quiet. She tucked her arms closer around her, new adrenaline coursing through her. What was she doing out at this time of night? He could be watching her now.

But music drifted out from around the corner as she approached Rose’s house, and thoughts of the Dollmaker fled. She clenched her fists tightly at the thought of Chester smiling and socializing at Rose’s side. He needed to be called out on his behavior. This had to break up the engagement—and Rose would just have to suffer the consequences. She would make it right.

Dawn paused underneath the lamppost on the corner of the street, its flames burning from the gas underneath. From this angle, she could see that Rose’s house was lit up, every window glowing. Laughter came from indoors, echoing in the night. Silhouettes moved over the windows. Dawn imagined glasses clinking together, stories being shared.

Gathering her nerve, she ran her palms along the front of her coat and stepped out into the dark street, heading toward Rose’s house. She was doing the greater good. Chester needed to be stopped. Rose needed to be saved from this marriage. Her footsteps splashed in the shallow puddles, and she forced her legs forward before she lost her determination.

Rose’s front door opened and a lovely silhouette ran out, curls pinned to the sides of her head, tiny waist, skirt hanging just below her knees. Her dress swished as she descended the front steps quickly, racing over to the nearest lamppost. Her gloved hands clung to the post, and Rose’s form lit up in the dark, the dim light highlighting her long lashes and full lips. Her chest pushed up and down, her fingers tightening around the post.

“Rose!” Dawn called out.

Her head snapped up, and she squinted into the dark. “Dawn?”

Had something happened between her and Chester? Was the party too much for her?

Dawn kept on, crossing the street.

Suddenly, something darted from the shadows. Before Dawn could blink, a figure sprang toward Rose. The figure wrapped its arm around her waist and clasped a hand over her mouth. Rose flailed, trying to cry out, swinging her arms back and forth, feet kicking out in front of her, but the figure dragged her backward at a quick pace, tugging her into the night.

Dawn blinked, and then reality crashed in.

“Rose!” she screamed. She rushed forward, racing, feet splashing in the puddles. The figure disappeared behind the back of the building and Dawn bolted after it, heading down the alleyway.

“Rose!” she called again.

She paused at the end of the alley, head darting from side to side, chest heaving. Her eyes stretched wide in the dark, but the figure was nowhere to be found. Alarm bells clanged in her head. Where had they gone? Had Chester snatched her? Someone else? She peeked back behind her, heart hammering.

Dawn took off back down the alley. She needed help. She raced up the front steps of Rose’s home, pushing open the door. Her hair hung in strands over her face as she burst into the foyer. Ladies paused, while a few gentlemen slid their gazes over. Their noses crinkled and mouths parted.

“Someone help,” Dawn choked out.

No one moved. They stared down at her with disapproving looks, eyebrows raised.

“Please,” Dawn repeated.

She knew these faces from her childhood. She’d helped some of these faces with their ailments and broken bones. They knew her. Why weren’t they responding?

A couple of men emerged from the crowd and started forward, rolling up their sleeves.

Dawn edged back. “No.”

The men grabbed her by the arms and began to escort her outside.

“No!” she yelled once more. “It’s Rose! Some man took her! He can’t be too far. We need to find her!” She looked for Chester, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Why hadn’t any of them noticed the bride was gone?

Giggles erupted and backs turned to her. The men continued to drag her while she yelled. The door slammed in her face, and Dawn stood on the porch alone. She whirled around, but all she found was silence.

She suddenly hated the silence.