11
Molly raised a hand to her mouth to stop the scream.
“You’re a pretty thing.” The Tooth Fairy ran a finger, its nail rough with dirt, beneath her chin. His breath rushed against her face in a hot wind of rotted leaves.
Every instinct in her body told her to crumple to the ground and play dead. But a new and surprising voice sounded in her mind to steady her. Ginny, the girl from her first night stealing a head.
They can’t scare you if you ain’t afraid.
“Take your hands off me, please,” she said.
The Tooth Fairy’s grin revealed wooden dentures, each tooth filed to a point.
“Why are you in the cemetery at night, little girl?” His necklace rattled as he moved closer, and Molly saw the tiny white bits for what they were—hundreds of human teeth.
Her own jaw felt unexpectedly loose. “I’m here for my sister.”
“That girl there?” He nodded to the body at their feet.
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “That woman’s a whore. I’ve ridden her myself. Came tonight to buy her a final time.” Reaching into his pocket, he flipped a silver coin to the groundskeeper. “For your trouble.”
“That ain’t nearly enough,” the groundskeeper grumbled, but then he caught the Tooth Fairy’s menacing glare and quieted.
The sensible thing, the only thing, was to run. To escape here as quickly as she could without ever looking back.
Instead, Molly searched her pocket for the knife. Too late, she realized she’d left it in her coat.
“Mary’d fallen away from us,” she said, letting her nerves make her voice shaky. Her mind raced, fumbling through the pieces of her story. She needed only to make something here. To piece the lies together like a winter crow weaving sticks into its nest.
The Tooth Fairy bent to grab the dead girl’s hair. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.” The words came more easily now. And for the first time, she drew on her pain instead of hiding it, forcing open the raw wounds of her past. Da dead, and Ma leaving Molly so that she could die beside him. Kitty abandoning her for a boy who’d destroyed her.
“Our family was religious. My da was a pastor. He thought Mary a sinner, so he threw her out.”
The Tooth Fairy laughed. “Not a very Christian thing to do.”
“No,” Molly said vehemently. “It’s unforgivable.”
The vitriol in her voice seemed to surprise the Tooth Fairy. He rocked back on his heels, listening with full attention.
“My sister’s been lost to me these last years, but I’ve found her now. She isn’t yours to take.”
The Tooth Fairy’s smile stretched across his unnatural teeth. “It’s a good story, girl. Sad . . .”
“Maybe she is what she says she is,” the groundskeeper said, looking suddenly uneasy. “Look at her dress.”
“Just a costume, probably,” said the Tooth Fairy. “Could buy it at any secondhand shop.”
“Or it’s real,” said the other man. “We don’t want the police bothering us if the girl’s telling the truth and her da’s a pastor.”
“It’s still a dead whore. There’s little the police will care about that.”
They can’t scare you if you ain’t afraid.
“Enough!” Molly stepped in front of the dead girl, though it took everything in her to keep her limbs from shaking. She forced herself to straighten. “I’ll have my sister now.”
Looking ashamed, the groundskeeper tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to the Tooth Fairy for guidance.
All pretense of amusement fell away from his face. The Tooth Fairy reached into a filthy bag tied to his waist, and the lantern caught the glint of metal. Bringing out a rusty pair of pliers, he shoved them between the dead girl’s lips.
There was a crunch, then a pop. The pliers reemerged, a tooth cradled between them, root still intact.
They can’t scare you if . . .
But Molly was. She was very, very afraid.
She spun, retching onto the ground. The thread of sick sent steam into the air.
Behind her, the popping sound came again. And again.
She did not turn around until it was over.
“There,” said the Tooth Fairy, standing and tying shut the newly full bag at his waist. “I’ll not be greedy this night. If you are her sister, the body’s yours.”
She managed, just barely, to stay standing.
“And if you’re not . . .” He held the pliers high and clipped them closed.
Her knees landed in her own vomit as she fell to the ground.
The pretty dress was ruined, but she didn’t care.
When the first wrenching sob came, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Here now. Quiet.” The groundskeeper knelt beside her and offered his handkerchief. “You really are upset, aren’t ya? Look, your sister came to her own bad end. Ain’t your fault.”
From the ground, the once-beautiful girl’s body stared. She looked like an old woman now, her mouth caved in an ugly pucker. The birthmark above her lip, once a small freckle, had stretched into a smudge.
“Will you be taking her?” The groundskeeper looked nervously around. “I can help you load her if you’ve got a wagon.” He studied Molly’s dress again, her hair and face. “Best to get on with it.”
“I need some air.” She felt her legs wobble like gelatin as she tried to stand.
“Easy.” He grudgingly offered her an arm that she ignored.
Stumbling out of the deadhouse, Molly took in great gulps of the night air. Her sick-stained dress wrapped around her ankles, twining in an excess of fabric as she tried to walk.
Each time she closed her eyes, she heard the tiny popping noise of teeth.
“Molly.” Her name sounded close to her ear. Tom appeared from the shadows beside her.
“Take me home.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. The boys were late. There was a problem with a delivery, and . . .”
“Now.”
Something in her face must have alarmed him. “All right.”
The groundskeeper emerged, lantern held aloft. “You her help?” He stared at Tom’s dirty clothes distrustfully.
“Yes.”
“Your mistress isn’t doing well.”
“She and her sister were very close.”
The groundskeeper grunted. “The body’s not in good shape. There were some accidents in moving it.”
“What kind of accidents?” Tom’s eye narrowed.
“Her teeth.”
Something unspoken passed between the two men.
“I’m sure my mistress would just like the chance to bury her,” Tom said finally. The threat in his voice could not be mistaken. He whistled, and two shapes emerged from the dark. Boys, thirteen or fourteen. Twins. Each the image of the other.
“If I find that any of you are lying to me—”
“You said the body had been abused?” Tom cut in neatly.
“It’ll do for a burial. Might just want to keep the casket closed.”
They stared at each other.
“If I should see you around here again,” the groundskeeper began.
“You won’t.”
“Nor your lady neither.”
“No.”
With a tight nod, Tom directed the twins. “Get the girl. Load her in the wagon.”
They scampered to obey. The groundskeeper, with a final, disgusted sound, retreated. “I’ve counted the bodies,” he said. “Best be only the one gone.”
Molly heard all of this as if it were a dream, the voices rising above her.
“Let’s go.” Tom gently took her arm.
When they arrived back at the cemetery gate, Molly found her aunt’s carriage waiting.
“Go on,” Tom said. “This will take you home.”
She started to protest, but a rush of exhaustion overwhelmed her, as if she’d run a great distance. She let Tom help her inside.
“You did fine,” he said, forcing her to look at him.
“I puked all over my dress.” Her eyes were burning, her body quivering.
“You met the Tooth Fairy and stayed alive.” He laid a hand over her own. “That’s a hell of a lot more than most people can say.”
“Who is he?” Molly asked. Philadelphia seemed to house as many monsters as bodies.
“A bad man.” Tom shook his head. There was anger in his eye and something else too. Something she’d never seen in him before.
Fear.
“It’ll get easier,” he said before shutting the door.
She laid her head against the seat’s night-cooled fabric, the velvet smooth against her cheek. The empty carriage bucked to life.
Or, no. Not so empty after all. Because even when she shut her eyes, there was the dead girl and, beside her, Kitty, their ghost gazes bright pinwheels of flame.
They followed her all the way home, faithful as any maids, their vows to serve forever.