The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) (3 page)

The encounter with the cloaked figure seemed
like a distant memory. She wanted to lock it in the back of her
mind and never think of it again, but her body was a constant
reminder. And the dreams were beginning to plague her. Every night
they came: visions of the madman carrying out his evil deeds. More
than just dreams. They felt real somehow. Like she was trapped
inside the dark memories of a stranger, witnessing the sins of his
mortal life.

It all started with that terrible promise.
The dreams were short at first, nightmarish snippets in between
more pleasant dreams. But then, they started to last the whole
night. That's when Cynthia realized she had missed her period. She
knew it was ridiculous—she hadn't been with a man in years—but
something inside her told her to take a pregnancy test. The two
pink lines that appeared in the “results” window of the little
plastic test sent her into a state of shock. She sat on the
bathroom floor that seemingly endless afternoon and stared at the
pink lines until they lost all meaning.

Cynthia stretched, groaned, and sat up. Hair
long brown hair was a mess, tangled from a long night of tossing
and turning. A wave of nausea washed over her when she tried to
stand up. She bowed her head and concentrated on breathing, resting
her hands on her knees. She didn't know how much more of this she
could take.

The dreams had become more vivid over the
months as her health deteriorated and her belly grew. The sick
bastard had tricked her. He had promised to bring Kya back to life,
but not in the form of an unborn child. The pregnancy was straining
Cynthia physically, fraught with complications. She was always
sick, constantly lacking energy, and haunted by the recurring
nightmares. The only thing that kept her going was the hope that,
somehow, she and Kya would be together again soon.

Cynthia leaned on the counter and rested her
chin in her hands. She watched Jason work, enjoying the way his
muscles moved beneath his skin. Fluorescent lighting made it easy
to read the thousands of titles on the shelves. Wall-to-wall
shelves of books, DVDs, and CDs, categorized by genre and kept in
alphabetical order. They even sold iPods and e-Readers now. The
shop was really coming along.

“Feeling any better?” Jason knelt before a
pile of display rack pieces, his dark brown eyes fixed on her.

“A little,” she said.

“Good.” He pointed to the checkout counter
where she leaned. “There are some saltine crackers under the
register if you feel woozy.”

Cynthia forced a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“What do the doctors say?” He selected a
phillips head screwdriver from the collection of tools on the floor
and flipped a piece of particle board into a standing position.

“They say all kinds of things. My iron is
low. My blood pressure is high. And that's just the tip of the
iceberg.” She paused, not wanting to sound so pessimistic, then
added. “But they say the Pre-eclampsia is under control.”

She pretended to straighten the merchandise
on the counter, secretly watching Jason as she worked. She'd been
so lonely lately. And he was so sweet. “Thanks for taking care of
everything while I was sick,” she said.

“No problem. We're partners.” He positioned a
metal piece over the particle board and set to work driving the
screw into the hole. Cynthia bit her lip. She tried to view Jason
as a business partner and co-owner of the shop, but her hormones
went wild at the sight of him. He looked up at her. “You don't have
to stay late with me, you know. I'm a big boy. I can lock up by
myself.”

“It's okay.” Cynthia hesitated for a moment,
then smiled and decided to continue. “I enjoy spending time with
you.”

Arching his eyebrows, he set the screwdriver
on the floor. “You do?”

She blushed... or maybe it was a hot flash.
“Yeah.”

Jason grinned. A crooked tooth near the front
of his mouth made his smile all the more charming. She loved the
curves of his lips, the stubble on his chin, the sexy way he
chuckled nervously as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair.
“I like spending time with you, too.” Jason stood up and approached
the counter. Cynthia couldn't help but smirk, thinking Jenny was
right all along.

Cynthia's heart sank at the thought of Jenny.
She hadn't spoken to her best friend in weeks. Cynthia had broken
an unspoken rule by refusing to talk about the pregnancy. They had
never kept secrets from each other in the past. Jenny couldn't
understand what had changed. Eventually, it drove them apart.
Cynthia laughed as she remembered Jenny's theory about motives.
“Everybody's got a motive” she had said.

“What's so funny?” Jason asked as he stood on
the customer's side of the counter, smiling at her.

“I was just thinking... about motives.”

He squinted one eye in a questioning gaze.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean... This might sound stupid and
conceded, but... well... I'm very curious about something...”

“You've got my attention.”

“Before you decided to invest in the store...
were you interested in me? I mean...as more than a business
partner?”

Jason rested his knuckles on the counter and
leaned in close to her. “Like a friend?” His lips curled away from
his teeth in a teasing smile.

“Well, maybe...”

He brushed a lock of brown hair from her eyes
and leaned closer. “Or maybe more than friends?”

“Maybe,” she replied, his lips inches from
hers.

He leaned in closer. She could feel his hot
breath on her ear as he whispered. “You're very beautiful, you
know. I suppose we all have motives, don't we?” He slid his hand to
the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Warmth danced over
her skin, tingling between her thighs. It was a feeling of euphoria
she hadn't felt in ages. Followed by a wave of nausea.

She pulled away. “Sorry...” Cynthia felt
lightheaded. She fought back a gag and spoke with her eyes closed,
embarrassed and nauseated at the same time. “It's not you. I'm
sick” Her voice shook with the last word as she tried not to cry.
Her perfect moment was ruined.

“It's okay,” he said, putting his hand on top
of hers. “We'll try again when you're feeling better.” He smiled,
and she couldn't help but smile, too.

The hospital bed rattled softly as a nurse
wheeled Cynthia down the hall. The pain in her gut exploded. It
felt like her insides were filled with broken glass and being
clenched in a tight fist until her internal organs were shredded.
She winced and tried to focus on taking deep breaths.

“You've lost a lot of blood from the
hemorrhaging. What is your pain level?”

Cynthia's teeth were clenched, every muscle
tense. “10,” she managed to groan.

The nurse pressed an elevator button. It lit
up, and the door slid open with a ding. “The doctor is meeting us
upstairs for the C-section.”

“Where's Jason?” Cynthia mumbled as the door
slid shut.

The nurse leaned over her. She smiled, but
there was something in that smile that Cynthia didn't like. Pity,
maybe. A hidden sadness. Fear for Cynthia's life. “If you're
speaking about the handsome man you came in with, he's in the
waiting room upstairs.”

Cynthia raised her head. Her vision was
blurred by tears. Every movement she made brought a fresh wave of
nausea. Straining to hold her neck up, she examined her lower half.
Blood soaked through the fresh sheets that had been placed on the
rolling bed. The stain spread across the white cotton fabric
between her thighs, dark red in the center.

She let her head fall back on the pillow. The
ceiling whizzed by in a blurry succession of drop tiles and
fluorescent lights. She heard the familiar tone of Dr. Killburn's
voice. “The room is ready for her.” He bent down to greet her. He
smiled, but the smile seemed vacant somehow... just like the
nurse's had been. The creases around his eyes and furrowed brow
told a different story.

Cynthia, feeling woozy, could only struggle
to keep her eyes open and think,
Oh no, am I going to die?
As if reading her mind, Dr. Killburn responded. “Hello, dear. We're
going to get you through this.”

Pain burst through her abdomen, so sharp she
cried out. Cynthia couldn't fight it any more. Her eyelids
fluttered as she fought against the blackness that checkered her
vision. Afraid that she might drop the tiny tooth clutched in her
fist, she slid her hand beneath the pillow and tucked it there for
safekeeping. Then she slipped into unconsciousness.

Cynthia huddled in the cage. Dirty shelves,
covered in old dust and cobwebs, loomed over her as she peered
through the bars. In each jar was a different set of teeth. She
considered counting the jars, but the crackling of the fireplace
drew her attention.

Little embers popped from the logs and turned
to ash when they hit the cool air. The flames danced to one side,
and she noticed two black eye sockets staring at her from the fire.
A draft stirred the flames again, and she saw the rest of the
skull, smiling at her from the blazing pit.

The table before the fireplace was nothing
more than a wooden slat atop a box-like frame, sitting low to the
ground. A wet rag sat in a crimson stain on the table. Next to the
stain sat a bloody saw. Morsels of flesh still clung to the sharp
teeth of the saw. Cynthia shuddered. So that's how he disposed of
his victims.

Her eyes panned to the table on her left.
Chains and ropes hung from the dirty wooden surface. Beside it, a
tall, narrow table gleamed with metal instruments. She trembled.
Would Cynthia end up on that table? She knew this was a nightmare,
but somehow, she felt there was more at stake than just having a
bad dream.

“Your time has come.” Cynthia looked up,
expecting to see the tall, sinister man from her dreams. Instead,
she was greeted by the glittering red eyes of the cloaked figure,
staring down at her through the darkness of the hood.

The dark entity unlocked the cage and seized
Cynthia's wrists in its cold, bony fingers. It yanked her through
the cell door, pulling her across the dusty floor. Her flailing
limbs kicked up dirt as she struggled against its stone grip.

She was released. Her wrists throbbed where
the circulation had been blocked. She scrambled to her knees,
looking up at the lost soul in the dark, billowing robes. “For
every joy there is a sorrow. Sacrifices must be made. That's what
you tell me in my dreams.”

The dark figure said nothing. It was
motionless aside from the swirling aura of misery that surrounded
it, filling Cynthia's heart with dread.

“You bring me the joy of returning Kya to the
world,” she touched her stomach and realized she was not pregnant
in the dream. She didn't like the feeling of her empty abdomen and
frowned, but continued. “So what is the sacrifice?” Her voice began
to shake, eyes wet. “Am I going to die?” It was frightening to put
what had been plaguing her into words. The pregnancy had been so
rough. She was always ill. And now she was losing so much
blood...

The cloaked figure reached behind its back
and produced a large scythe that materialized out of the shadows
that swirled around its presence. The dark power that pulsated like
a force field of wickedness around the stranger seemed to spread
through the atmosphere like toxic gas. The toothless, red-eyed face
leaned forward. Its ghoulish nose poked from the shadows. “For
every joy there is a sorrow. For every good deed, a dark one. And
for every soul I resurrect, one must be taken.” The blade of the
scythe caught the firelight.

“Must it be mine?” She was desperate now,
pleading. “Every night you show me the sins of your mortal life.
You paint a picture of the monster you once were. But that's not
who you are... not any more. Your soul wants to rest.”

The creature's robes whipped around as the
wind picked up speed. Its eyes glowed even brighter. Misery poured
from its heart, filling the room.

“My friend Jenny says no good deed is done
without a motive. I think she's right. You have a motive in
resurrecting a child. A brand new set of baby teeth will await you.
But there's no motive in sparing me. I have nothing to offer
you.”

The floorboards shook beneath her knees as
its thunderous voice filled her mind. “There must be a death! A
sacrifice from the child's own bloodline!” He raised the scythe
high over her head with both arms.

“Wait!” she screamed. “You cannot take a
tooth unless it's offered to you, is that right?” The cloaked
figure hovered there, perfectly still, with the blade held over her
head, its pointed tip angled toward the center of her skull. “What
good will it do you, then... to bring her back, if you're not
guaranteed a single tooth from her head?” Sweat dripped down her
face. Her blue eyes shined with a devious thought. “I can promise
you every last tooth in her mouth. I will offer them to you,
willingly. Just hear me out. This sacrifice you require must be of
Cynthia's bloodline?”

The tooth collector said nothing. Its hands
shook in the air, rattling the scythe. The air around it spiraled
into chaos.