Page 34 of If Looks Could Kill

At the sight, at all the sights, my body went cold and disoriented. The room seemed to tilt. I feared I’d pass out.

But others were worse off than me. I swallowed my terror and reached out a hand.

“Freyda? Are you all right?” I pulled her to her feet.

“Tabitha?” she whispered. “Is that Pearl ?”

We both looked at the Medusa with her back against the wall. Her breathing was ragged, and a strangled noise of rage and grief came from her throat. A sob and a growl.

I had to get her out of here. And not just her. Would she listen?

“Freyda,” I said, “what are you doing here?”

I shouldn’t have asked. Her bruised face, her provocative clothing, her tears. These men. This place. Mother Rosie’s crib. Freyda’s failure to return within a week as expected.

The other girl, still crouched on the floor, slid back away from Pearl.

“You came looking for Cora,” I whispered as realization dawned.

The girl in the corner looked up. “Came looking for who ?”

“Nothing,” Freyda said. She gave me a quelling look. Fine. No questions, for now.

Freyda took a deep breath. “I was looking for a story,” she said. Her eyes filled with tears. “I talked myself into—I can’t believe I was this stupid.”

I wrapped my arms around her. She could’ve been us. We could’ve been her. We were close to undertaking such a scheme ourselves. And here, in fact, we were.

Cora rose to her feet. “You’d better go.” To Freyda she asked, “Are you going too?”

“We’re all going,” I told the room. “You too. We’re all getting out of here.”

Cora bit her lip. Her whole body seemed taut with fear. “Others will be here any minute.”

Pearl had gone quiet. Her face was sickly pale. She swayed upon her feet.

“Quick,” I hissed. “A chair. She’s going to faint.”

Freyda handed me a low stool, and I guided Pearl to sit down upon it. She flopped her head down on the table before her.

“She’s passed out,” I reported.

The severed snake slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor.

The bodies on the floor began to show groaning signs of life. One was the same man I’d seen walking Cora back here from the brothel. Joe, with the swollen ear. They’d probably all hurt Cora and Freyda. I wanted to kick them.

“Oh, God, they’re waking up,” Freyda fretted, “and now Pearl’s down.”

“Gather up their weapons,” I said. Freyda collected them and laid them on the table.

I turned back to Pearl. Before my astonished eyes, her snakes folded themselves in and back on themselves. The golden serpents disappeared, and Pearl’s golden curls returned, loose and unbound.

She was herself again. Thank the Lord.

I took my handkerchief and gingerly picked up the severed snake body at Pearl’s feet, then placed it in my coat pocket.

There was no avoiding it now. The stunned toughs on the floor were definitely coming to.

“Are there any other girls here?” I whispered to Freyda.

She shook her head. “Everyone else is… working this evening.” Her jaw clenched. “Mother Rosie specializes in young girls. From good families. Better educated. She caters to the swells.” Her bitterness was bottomless. “The ones who can afford the best.”

I began to pat Pearl’s face, which was resting on one cheek on the table. I wanted to weep with relief at the sight of her own face again, but now wasn’t the time.

“Pearl,” I whispered. “Please wake up. Pearl! ”

“Tabitha,” Freyda hissed, “we’ve got to go now.”

“Pearl,” I cried softly. “We need you on your feet.”

She moaned in reply.

“Hurry,” Cora whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

“I always say,” came a voice from the stairwell, “that if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”