Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(39)
“And I love you.” I pulled him to me and kissed him properly. “Now, go. I’ll see you in church soon.”
He stared at my robe, his gaze declaring all sorts of trouble as he leisurely took me in.
“I’m sure we can make time… all right! All right, I’m going.” Thomas paused, his fingers tapping the door as he openly admired me one last time. “Do you remember when I teased you about getting you to church?” I nodded, thinking back to our first case together. He smiled, that boyish, vulnerable smile.
“After I said it, I’d never hoped for something more.”
My heart felt ready to burst at the seams. Perhaps we could steal a few more
moments…
An hour later, Thomas finally crept from my room, whistling quietly as he left me to get some sleep. We’d both need to be up soon to prepare for our day.
The next time I saw him would be at the end of an aisle, when we began a new chapter.
One where we wrote our own rules from now until forever.
I slid back between the covers, convinced I’d never be able to sleep, and fell into an immediate and deep slumber. A lovely dream began—a preview of our upcoming nuptials. I was dressed in my wedding gown, my veil trailing like a cloud behind me.
The young man waiting at the altar was dressed in black. From his midnight suit to his shadowy form. Even up to the tips of his twisted horns, gleaming like twin obsidian blades.
My blood prickled. That wasn’t…
I thrashed about, trying to wake myself. The man waiting for me had no face, no discernible features other than the horns on his head. In my dream I began trembling, the bouquet of roses I held pricking my hands. Blood dripped on my dress and onto the ground, mixing with the petals already strewn there. He didn’t speak or move; he simply waited. Silent. Foreboding. Radiating menace. I dug my heels into the smooth marble of the chapel. But it was no use. I was pulled to him as if he were a magnet tugging me closer against my will.
He was only a silhouette, but I recognized who he was. Our destinies seemed fated for this moment. As if we’d been set upon this course our whole lives and all of my choices leading up to this had been mere fiction for his amusement. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
It was the first night I dreamed of the devil, and I feared it wouldn’t be the last.
Newspaper article, circa. 1893
SEVENTEEN
STILL AT LARGE
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
6 FEBRUARY 1889
I sat perfectly still, my tea untouched, as Liza and Daciana worked my hair into perfection. My wedding gown was covered with a large blanket to keep anything from spilling on it, though a few layers of the pale blush and white skirts managed to sneak out.
Made of silk and tulle, the long-sleeved dress was exquisite—something straight out of a fairy tale, with glittering gemstones sewn both into the bodice and at different intervals in my skirts. When I walked, it looked like stars were winking in and out of the sunlight, too excited to wait until nightfall to remain hidden. Tiny blush petals were also clustered around the edge of my modest neckline, with more tendrils reaching for the floor, marrying the two colors of tulle expertly. It was extravagant, but elegant. A shining beacon of wonder.
Unlike my darkening mood.
No matter how much I wished otherwise, the glow I’d felt when Thomas left this morning had been replaced by a shadow. Its talons scraped against my good mood. Between the nightmare and the news I’d just learned, I could not settle my racing thoughts.
Even on the morning of my wedding, Jack the Ripper haunted me. I’d requested the newspaper along with my breakfast tray to be served in my room. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the latest sensation making front-page news. I regretted not tossing it in the fireplace immediately. I wanted one day
free from death. I longed to think only of life as we celebrated our union. Now I could hardly think of anything else with the article glaring at me.
NOT CAUGHT YET.
Many Arrests, but the New York Ripper Is Still at Large.
“See?” Daciana fluffed my hair over one shoulder. “Partially down is a bit softer. It matches the feeling of the gown. So ethereal.” She tugged one of my braids, drawing my attention up. She raised her brows. “You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
I tried offering a smile but worried it was closer to a grimace instead. Judging from the slight narrowing of Daciana’s eyes, she didn’t believe my poor acting.
“Liza?” she asked, her tone especially sweet. “I forgot the strand of pearls in my room. Would you mind getting them? They’ll look exquisite tucked into her hair, don’t you think?”
“Oh!” Liza clapped her hands. Her dress was a flowing blush that matched the petals sewn into my many layers. “What a wonderful idea!”
She dashed out the door, intent on embellishing every inch of me until I sparkled more than all the diamonds and jewels woven into my ensemble. I sighed. And here I thought Daciana was on my—I leaned forward, noticing the pearls on the vanity, and flicked my gaze up. “You lied.”
“As did you.” She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Now, tell me, what’s got you looking so dreadfully pale?”
“It’s nothing. It’s…” I scrambled for one of my worries. I didn’t want to open up a discussion about the Ripper murders; that would lead to too many other inquiries. And I didn’t want to share the details of my silly nightmare. Which left one inquiry I’d had for her anyway. “I received an odd letter or two that hadn’t been signed. I was just remembering it now.”