Chapter Sixty-Four
Molars
Cain grabs Madam Karina from behind and cranks her head back. “Don’t say a word,” he breathes into her ear. “And make sure no one else comes through here.”
Girls continue to dart in and out, screaming, though I don’t know what all the ruckus is about. Madam Karina yells for them to return to their beds at once, and they follow her orders like good little ducks.
I slink around Madam Karina until I find her wrists and then bind them. “Let’s go in the front room, shall we? Away from this horse here.” I kick Mercy in the ribs and tell her I’ll catch her later. Maybe Ruby, too, if I can find that wench. Cain drags Madam Karina after him and follows me into the sitting room, the first place I stepped foot when we arrived.
“Have a seat,” I tell Madam Karina, and Cain throws her onto the couch.
“You are not what you pretended to be,” the madam snarls.
“I am exactly as I am. You have two faces, and so do I.” I clasp my hands behind me and walk the space before her. Turn on my heels, and pace back. “You are a manipulator. And you are a liar. You brought us here to serve as your property, and I don’t believe you’ve ever once paid a girl the money she deserved.”
Madam Karina averts her gaze and works her arms against the binds. “You stupid, stupid girl. If you wanted to leave, all you had to do was apply, and the money would’ve been yours.”
I ignore her. “You put a tracking device in Poppet’s pink elephant, the one you knew she’d take, and you lock up any girl who leaves you.” I swivel on Madam Karina. “Is that where she is now?”
Shock colors the madam’s face, but not for long. A shadow passes over her features, and her mouth forms a tight line. “That girl had two choices, and she chose wrong. Now she’s paying for her poor decisions.”
“Where is she?”
Madam Karina smiles. “Not where you’d think.”
“Not at the jailhouse.”
Madam Karina turns her head away and barely suppresses a smile. It’s eerily quiet in the house—all the girls huddled in their rooms, doors locked—when I rear back and slap Madam Karina cold across her face. Her hair whips over her cheek, and she glares up at me, anger boiling behind those blue hooded eyes.
“Feels kind of good, doesn’t it?” I say. “The snap of being woken up?”
I glance through the windows that lead outside. Mr. Hodge is no doubt out with his mistress, and Eric’s gold sedan is nowhere in sight. It seems luck is on our side. Not that I need it. I motion to Cain, and he opens the black bag.
I select my first instrument.
The pliers sparkle, even in the dull light, and the smile slips from the madam’s mouth. “Oh, no more smirking?” I push the pliers toward Madam Karina’s mouth and Cain yanks her head back. “Tell me where Poppet is.”
Instead of addressing me, the madam turns her attention to Cain. “I’ll tell Eric what you did. Murderer! You killed your own brother. Know what they’ll do if they find out?”
Cain’s eyes enlarge, but he doesn’t release her.
I grab Madam Karina’s chin and jerk it forward. “It’s time to pay penance for many things. Making Cain believe he’s guilty is but one of your sins. Open wide, sugar.”
Madam Karina screams.
Oh, she screams.
The front lateral incisor pops out as if it never wanted to be there in the first place. Good riddance, it says with a backward wave. I hold the tooth in front of her face as she drools and whimpers. “This one isn’t that painful to have removed, believe it or not. And it doesn’t contribute much functionality. More a cosmetic concern, really. Next time I’ll pull a molar, and let me tell you, that won’t be nearly as pleasant.”
A Tulip tiptoes down the stairs, the same girl who took the teakettle from me when I needed it. I wave the tooth at her. “You see me now, Tulip?” I motion toward the open seat next to Madam Karina. “Step right up! Got room for one more.”
The girl races up the stairs, a scream ripping from her throat.
“You see?” I get close to Madam Karina’s face. “No one is coming to save you. So, tell me where Poppet is, and I’ll bring you a towel.”
Madam Karina, lady that she is, rears her head back and spits on me. “I should have known better than to bring in Detroit street trash. Eric should have left you for my sister to scoop off the sidewalk.”
I palm her face and shove backward. She moans and clenches her eyes shut. “I’ll tell you a secret, madam. I am more than mere street trash. I’m a killer. Me. Not Cain.” I nod to show her it’s true. “That’s right. These two hands killed half a dozen men. Maybe more. I lost count after a while. One could say I’m a man-killing connoisseur.”
Cain growls and throws a fist into the couch near the madam’s head. “Just tell us where Poppet is and we’ll leave.”
I’ll do no such thing, but I still raise my hands and wave toward the kitchen. “Get this scoundrel a kitchen towel. I can’t stand her drooling.”
Cain starts to leave, but I stop him with a word. “Bag.”
He pauses, wondering how far I’ll go without him there to supervise. In the end, he tosses me the backpack and leaves the room.
I withdraw the smaller knife and lay it across my hands on display. “I’ll start by cutting you on the hands and arms. You’ll bleed a lot, and it will certainly hurt. But it won’t do too much damage. You can trust me on this.” I show her the inside of my forearm as evidence—the Xs crossing my skin, the scars that memorialize the men I killed. I kept accurate count…for a while. “Where’s Poppet?” I ask, giving her one more chance.
“You’ll never make it out of here,” Madam Karina growls, blood dripping down her chin. “I’ll have you in the end. Another jailbird to sing for me.”
I round her body and drag the blade across the back of her left hand. It opens without complaint and drips scarlet onto the wood floor. Madam Karina cries for me to stop. But I can’t. Not until there’s a matching one on the other hand.
There we go.
Much better.
Cain reappears with the dishtowel and tosses it into Madam Karina’s lap.
“Go ahead, pick it up,” I laugh. “What, you don’t want it?”
Madam Karina hangs her head. “You have my hands tied, you dirt. You filth. Tell me, Domino, did you wonder who took the money from your dresser drawer? Did you think Mr. Hodge wouldn’t find it?”
This takes me by surprise for a moment, but the reaction doesn’t stick. I flip the knife in my hand like a skilled butcher and take it to her forearm this time, press the point against her age-marked skin, but don’t press down. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Where is Poppet?”
She shakes her head as her blood drip-drops.
“What I did to your mouth? To your hands? That was child’s play. I’m gonna show you how I really make people hurt.”
I push the knife a touch in as Cain watches, face twisted with horror and desire. He’s disgusted by what I’m doing, and yet he wants this as much as I do. Kick a dog one too many times…
I begin dragging the knife up her arm—
The front door crashes open.
In walks Eric, arm around Poppet’s waist, gun held to her head.