The Bone Garden: A Novel

from the hole. Whatever sweet fragrance had once blessed those blond ringlets was now masked by the faint odor of decay. Already her body had begun its inevitable journey to putrefaction, which soon would erode her beauty as skin disintegrated, as eyes sank to hollows. But for now the girl was still an angel, and he handled her gently as he lowered her onto the tarp.

The rain slowed to a drizzle as they quickly refilled the hole, shoveling mud back onto the now vacant coffin. To leave the grave open would only advertise that resurrectionists had been at work here, that the body of a beloved had been snatched. They took the time to cover their tracks rather than risk setting off an outraged inquiry. When the last of the earth had been replaced, they smoothed over the ground as best they could with their shovels, working only by the dim glow through the clouds. In time, the grass would grow in, a headstone would be planted, and loved ones would continue to lay flowers on a grave where no one slept.

They wrapped the corpse in the tarp, and Norris carried her in his arms like a groom bearing his new bride across the threshold. She was light, so pitifully light, and it took no effort at all to bring her across the wet grass, past the gravestones of those who had passed on before her. Gently he set her on the cart. Jack carelessly tossed the shovels beside her.

She was treated with no greater care than the tools rattling next to her, her corpse jolted like mean cargo as they rode through an icy drizzle back to town. Norris found no reason to exchange words with Jack, so he kept his silence, longing only for the night to be over so he could part ways with this repellent man. As they neared the city, they shared the road with other carts and carriages, other drivers who would wave and occasionally call out greetings of shared misery. Not a night to be out, eh? How'd we get so lucky? It'll be sleet by morning! Jack cheerily returned the greetings, betraying not a hint of anxiety about the forbidden load he was hauling.

By the time they turned onto the cobblestoned street behind the apothecary shop, Jack was whistling. Anticipating, no doubt, the cash that would soon line his pocket. They rumbled to a stop on the paving stones. Jack jumped down from the dray and knocked on the shop's back door. A moment later the door opened, and Norris saw the glow of a lamp shining through the crack.

— We got one, — said Jack.

The door opened wider, revealing the bearded, heavyset man holding the lamp. At this hour, he was already dressed in his nightclothes. — Bring it in, then. And be quiet about it. —

Jack spat on the stones and turned to Norris. — Well, come on, then. Bring her in. —

Norris lifted the tarp-covered body and carried her through the open doorway. The man with the lamp met his gaze with a nod of recognition. — Upstairs, Dr. Sewall? — asked Norris.

— You know the way, Mr. Marshall. —

Yes, Norris knew the way, for this was not his first visit to this dark alley, nor was it the first time he had carried a corpse up this narrow stairway. On the last visit, he had struggled with his burden, panting and grunting as he'd dragged the corpulent body up the stairs, fat naked legs bumping against the steps. Tonight, his burden was much lighter, little more than the weight of a child. He reached the second floor and paused in the dark. Dr. Sewall squeezed past him and led the way up the hall, his footsteps creaking heavily across the floorboards, the flame of his lamp casting dancing shadows on the walls. Norris followed Sewall through the last doorway, into a room where a table waited to receive its precious merchandise. He gently set down the corpse. Jack had followed them up the stairs and stationed himself at one end of the table, the sound of his wheezing magnified by the stillness of the room.

Sewall approached the table and pulled back the tarp.

In the flickering lamplight, the girl's face seemed to glow with the rosy warmth of life. Wet tendrils of hair released droplets of rainwater that trickled down her cheek like glistening tears.

— Yes, she's in good condition, — murmured Dr. Sewall as he peeled away the tarp, exposing the naked torso. Norris had to suppress the urge to stay the man's hand and prevent this violation of a maiden's modesty. He saw, with disgust, the lascivious glint in Jack's eyes, the eagerness with which he leaned in for a closer look. Gazing down at the girl's face, Norris thought: I am sorry that you must suffer this indignity.

Sewall straightened and gave a nod. — She'll do, Mr. Burke. —

— And she'll make for some fine entertainment, too, — said Jack with a grin.

— Entertainment is not why we do this, — Sewall retorted. — She serves a higher purpose. Enlightenment. —

— Oh, of course, — Jack said. — So where's my money? I'd like to be paid for all this enlightenment I'm providing you. —

Sewall produced a small cloth bag, which he handed to Jack. — Your fee. There'll be the same when you bring another one. —

— There's only fifteen dollars in here. We agreed on twenty. —

— You required Mr. Marshall's services tonight. Five dollars is credited toward his tuition. That adds up to twenty. —

— I know damn well what it adds up to, — said Jack, ramming the money into his pocket. — And for what I provide, it's not nearly enough. —

— I'm sure I can find another resurrectionist who'd be quite satisfied with what I pay. —

— But no one who'll deliver 'em to you this fresh. All you'll get is rotten meat crawling with worms. —

— Twenty dollars per specimen is what I pay. Whether or not you need an assistant is your decision. But I doubt that Mr. Marshall here will work without adequate compensation. —

Jack shot a resentful look at Norris. — He's my muscle, that's all. I'm the one who knows where to find 'em. —

— Then keep finding them for me. —

— Oh, I'll have one for you, all right. — Jack turned to leave. In the doorway, he paused and reluctantly looked back at Norris. — The Black Spar, Thursday night. Seven o'clock, — he snapped, and walked out. His footsteps thumped heavily down the stairs, and the door slammed shut.

— Is there no one else you can call on? — asked Norris. — He's the worst kind of filth. —

— But those are the people we're forced to work with. All resurrectionists are alike. If our laws were more enlightened, then vermin like him would not be in business at all. Until that day, we're forced to deal with the likes of Mr. Burke. — Sewall moved back to the table and looked down at the girl. — At least he manages to procure usable cadavers. —

— I'd happily choose any employment but this, Dr. Sewall. —

— You wish to be a physician, do you not? —

— Yes, but to work with that man. Is there no other task I could perform? —

— There's no need more pressing to our college than the procurement of specimens. —

Norris gazed down at the girl. And said, softly: — I don't think she ever imagined herself as a specimen. —

— We are all specimens, Mr. Marshall. Take away the soul, and any body is the same as another. Heart, lungs, kidneys. Beneath the skin, even a young lady as lovely as this one is no different. It's always a tragedy, of course, for one so young to die. — Briskly, Dr. Sewall pulled the tarp over the corpse, and it gently billowed down over the girl's slender frame. — But in death, she will serve a nobler purpose. —

Four

THE SOUND OF MOANING awakened Rose. Sometime in the night she had fallen asleep in the chair beside Aurnia's bed. Now she lifted her head, her neck aching, and suddenly saw that her sister's eyes were open, her face contorted in pain.

Rose straightened. — Aurnia? —

— I cannot bear this any longer. If only I could die now. —

— Darling, don't say such a thing. —