Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

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