Moving farther away and dragging Abelino with her, Scarlet tried to place as many beating hearts between them and the crazed lady as she could.

Her body jostled a man to their left. He did not notice, chanting and rubbing his hands together with a feverish intensity. Evidence of bloodlust haunted the air, the cobblestone, the platform itself. People bumped up against Scarlet and Abelino, reshuffling the group; a great movement from behind rushed forward toward the guillotine. And they found themselves staring once again into the face of the woman. She worked herself into such a feverish frenzy, wringing her hands and rocking from foot to foot, that a line of drool traveled down her chin.

Scarlet and Abelino didn’t watch the moment of death, but the grating sound of the sliding metal and the final thump at the end reached their ears. Abelino shivered. Deep regret filled Scarlet that she couldn’t spare him from hearing it. A weight on her chest restricted her breathing, and she sorrowed for the loss of innocence and life.

But the woman showed no sorrow. She and her compatriots—a surging, seething, gruesome crowd of beings, human in name only—gave an exultant cheer and turned their attentions from Madame La Guillotine toward the west barricade.1

With a sigh, Scarlet squeezed Abelino’s shoulder. “Off with you.”

By all appearances, she was an older woman herself; at least, she hoped everyone viewed her as such, that she had hidden all mannerisms ingrained by her governess. She left the boy to fend for himself in the crowd and limped around the side of her cart, directing that the remaining coffins be filled.

She grabbed the arm of the nearest guard.

“And the heads, mind you. I need an extra bag for me heads.”

Long strands of white-gray hair fell in her line of sight. She brushed them away when they tickled her nose. Her tongue moved around inside her mouth as if she had no teeth, coming forward at times, visible between her lips. She knew if she exaggerated ugly details that made people uncomfortable, they would not stare at her too closely.

A man in torn and tattered clothing watched as they loaded the last coffin on top of the others then climbed in behind them. She tossed the guards a bag of coins and then climbed up on her perch in the cart, reins in hand.

“Thank you, citizens. The doctor has a bit of work to do on ’em, to be sure.”

One guard grimaced. “We don’t want to be knowing, now do we?”

“Cut off the toes last week, he did.” She leaned forward with a loud whisper. “Doing an experiment.”

The guard slapped her donkey on the rump. “Shut yer trap, ye old hag. Just take your bodies and go.”

She pulled on the reins to quiet the donkey. “Eh, now. Me papers. You forgot to sign me papers.”