Chapter 20
Twenty
“Don’t ever do that again,” Kate says. “You little fool.” We’re in the bath together, Kate behind me as I recline against her, nestled between her legs. She wrings out a washcloth and strokes it over my breasts, along my arms. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. They were chasing me. I was worried . . . I thought you’d be . . .”
“Better off without you?” She laughs softly. “Ruby told me. She came straight here after leaving you. Oh, sweetling.” She dips the washcloth in the water, wrings it out over my belly. “How could you think that?”
“I’ve only brought you trouble.”
“Maybe.” She chuckles. “But my life was rather boring before you turned up.”
“What happened at the party, after I ran?”
“They sent a search party after you—most of the soldiers there. And your William detained me. Gods, Lil, he was the one you were betrothed to? You should have set your sights higher.”
“Hush. I was young. And his family is very rich.”
“Well, all the same. He looks like a ferret. But even with his prodding, I never broke character. He asked me question after question—had I known you were Lillian Carmichael all along? Had I been aiding and abetting you?” She sighs.
“So, I lied. Unlike you, I’m good at it.
I told them I thought you were my cousin, who I’d only met once when we were children.
I played the victim. Pretended you tricked and stole from me, too. ”
“And he believed you?”
“Yes. I cry rather prettily, you know.”
I laugh, imagining her act. “So, what do we do now?”
“We’ll come up with another plan. But you must stay here, from now on, and let me provide for us.
You’ve run through all your disguises, my dear.
It’s no longer safe for you to accompany me.
” She strokes the washcloth over my skin, softly, tenderly.
“And there’s been another murder. A young woman in Mount Pleasant.
Now that you’ve been spotted there, the killer has mysteriously widened his margins. I find that interesting.”
“How so?”
“I’ve performed many plays. Operas. There’s often double-crossing in those stories.
Vendettas. And I think the killer is using you.
As cover. So that he can continue his rampage, unchecked.
Who better to blame things on than a convicted killer who rose from the dead?
A vampire.” She clucks her tongue. “Do you know anything at all about vampires?”
“No, not especially.” I know they consume blood, that they supposedly walk about only at night.
That they are exceedingly difficult to kill.
I think of that dark figure, crouched over poor Arabella in the gardens.
How he moved so quickly, so inhumanly. “Might there be a real vampire? The man I saw . . . Arabella’s killer. He was unusual looking.”
Kate hums beneath her breath. “A real vampire . . . that’s far-fetched.
There’s something distinctly human about this murderer.
Conniving. My father had a book in his library.
I read it as a girl. It had a story in it, about a vampire lord.
He moved among the upper classes, undetected.
He seduced and targeted young women of means, just like this creature.
It’s possible the killer modeled himself after Lord Ruthven—the vampire in the story. And made you the foil.”
“So, you think he might be part of the chivalry?”
“Perhaps. Or someone who secretly hates them. By pinning the murders on you, he won’t be subject to scrutiny. Do you have any enemies, my dear?”
“Not any one person in particular I can think of.” Plenty of people wished to see my family fall into ruin because of Papa’s cause. The chivalry bore ill will toward us, but I can think of no one who would specifically target me, apart from Arabella, and now she’s dead.
“There’s something else I’ve noticed,” I say. “The women he’s killed—they’ve all been redheads.”
“The young woman in Mount Pleasant—Tomasina Graham—was as well.”
“My sister was a redhead. It could be another way for him to tie the murders to me.”
“Possibly,” Kate says, thoughtfully. “But why redheads? And is he killing for sport? Or another reason . . . I can’t be sure.”
“Nor I.” Even though I’m relieved to be removed from Charleston society and all its vanities, the thought of staying hidden away while a murderer—human or otherwise—prowls the city, unchecked, pricks at my conscience. My compassion for the murdered women stirs my guilt. Their lives mattered.
“What’s the matter, sweetling?” Kate asks.
“What can we do, to make it stop? It seems as if we’re the only ones who have the slightest inkling of what’s really going on.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve an idea. My grandest one yet. But for now . . . there are other matters that need tending to. I’ve missed you. Desperately.”
One of her hands disappears beneath the water, as the other cups my breast. I sigh and lean my head back, welcoming her hungry kiss and how it soothes my worries.
Before long, she has me whimpering and pleading, just as she likes me.
I twist and arch against her, water splashing over the side of the tub as she wrings pleasure from my body.
“There. Isn’t that better?” she says, her tongue flicking against my cheek. “You sound so lovely when you fall apart.”
I sigh, my heartbeat slowing back to its normal cadence. “I’m lost for you,” I whisper.
“I know, sweetling,” she says. “I know.”
Life resumes as normal at Angel’s Rest. I gather the eggs; Kate cooks our breakfast. We do our chores, make love, and then nap for most of the afternoon.
After supper, she goes out as Varina. Alone.
I worry myself sick, often pacing the floors until she returns.
She brings home news—there have been no new murders since Tomasina, and the society matrons have begun to entertain the thought of resuming their summer balls in the countryside.
Their daughters need husbands, after all, and life must carry on.
While this is good for Kate—she receives three more commissions for private parties—I can’t help but worry that the killer is merely lying in wait. Biding his time.
Unfortunately, my prediction comes true.
During the grandest ball of the season, held at a plantation on Daniel Island, another debutante disappears.
Her bloodless body is found in the Wando a few days later by a dockworker.
Sophie Butler, a young woman from Florida, visiting her aunt.
Also a redhead. My name is once more splashed across the pages of the paper, along with a reward for $1,000 for anyone who kills me or informs the authorities of my whereabouts.
A crude, overtly sexual cartoon accompanies the article, penned by that loathsome Leroy Burrows.
The cartoon pictures me feasting between a swooning woman’s legs. I laugh at the sensationalism.
Kate looks up at me. She’s expertly peeling an apple, the red skin dangling from her hands in a perfect spiral. “What’s so funny?”
“That ridiculous cartoon,” I say.
“I saw it. If only they knew it’s me with the insatiable appetite for the tender flesh of maidens,” she says with a wry grin. “Though not in the way they think.”
“Stop,” I say, blushing. “You’re terrible.”
“Yes. But you love me.” She cuts a slice from the apple and feeds it to me. I bite the tip of her finger as she pulls away. “Naughty thing.”
I sit back in the chair, the tart sweetness of the apple making my mouth water.
I study my lover in the sunlight filtering through the dining room window.
Her crisp jawline, that precious divot beneath her plump lower lip.
My good humor fades. “I don’t think you should go out anymore, Kate.
Cancel your performances. Please. I’m sick with worry anytime you leave. ”
“How are we to make money, sweetling? Varina isn’t the killer’s type. Too blond. Too tall.”
“How can we know he won’t divert from his habits?”
“We can’t,” she says. She puts the apple and knife down on the table. “But I’ve been thinking. The only thing that may stop these murders is if the real killer is exposed. If we prove it’s not you.”
“How can we do that? I can’t very well show up at the City Guardhouse and say I didn’t do it. Besides, they’d still hang me for my sister’s death, even if I could prove myself innocent of these vampire murders.”
Kate studies me. “Perhaps . . . perhaps we should give them what they want.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll become the very thing they believe you to be.”
It sounds ridiculous at first. Kate’s idea. She spends the rest of the morning explaining it to me. How we’ll rehearse. Costume ourselves. The ruse will begin with a letter to the papers announcing the arrival of the renowned Dr. Ezra Winthrop, scientist and vampire expert.
“It will be perfect, Lil. You saw for yourself how intimidating Winthrop is. He’ll be convincing, don’t you think?”
A shiver runs through me, remembering the coldness in Kate’s eyes when she transformed into Winthrop the first time we rehearsed together. How badly she frightened me. “Yes, very.”
She paces through the costume room, pulling out dresses and examining them. “You, on the other hand, are far less convincing. Remember how I told you that your anger is your best tool?”
I sit back on the chaise and sigh. Sometimes, when Kate is in a mood like this, all creative passion and frenetic energy, she exhausts me. “Yes.”
“You must tap into it. Our audience won’t want to see a meek, submissive vampire. They’ll want to see a fight.” She snarls, showing all her teeth. Tosses her headful of dark curls. “Gnash your teeth. Growl. You must leave every trace of modesty behind and become their monster of myth.”
“All of this is well and good. But say we’re successful.
Say the real killer comes to this spectacle and realizes his game has run its course.
Even if the audience is convinced the vampire is vanquished and their daughters are safe once more, what about the authorities?
How are you going to remove my body, without suspicion?
And what do we do after? Just come back here, to Angel’s Rest, and hide away forever?
I’ll have died twice at that point. I can hardly resurrect again. ”
“You underestimate my persuasive abilities and the level of corruption in the city,” Kate says. “I have it on good authority that the coroner is debt-ridden. He’s old. Disinterested. He’ll be easy to pay off.”
“I’m not so sure about that. He certainly seemed interested in what happened to poor Sally. And having a real live vampire to study? If I were a doctor, I’d be fascinated.”
“Trust me, Lil. Nothing talks louder than money.”
“Just how much are you thinking?”
“Including the jewelry and money you stole from the party, we have well over five thousand dollars, by my estimate.”
I turn away, considering. I intended at least some of the stolen money to go toward helping fugitive slaves. Not to line the pockets of an already corrupt coroner. “I thought . . . I thought we were going to give that money to the maroons to aid in their escape. Or for them to buy their freedom.”
“Well, we won’t give all of it to the coroner. But . . .” Kate bounces on her heels. “Don’t you think it’s worth it? You deserve freedom, too, sweetling. To have the sun on your face again, without fear.” She comes to my side, takes my hands in hers. “Have you ever been to England?”
“No. I have not.”
“Nor have I.” She laughs. “My mother despised the English. But for an actress . . .” Kate sighs wistfully.
“There’s no better place. I could make it big in London, Lil.
I know I could, with my talents. We have more than enough money to get by until I find my feet, even with paying off the authorities.
We could leave here by autumn. In another country, you’d be truly free. ”
I consider her words. How wonderful they sound on the surface.
But just like everyone else in my life before me, she’s telling me what we’ll do.
Not asking me. Just like Mother. All my life, I’ve been soft, compliant.
Uncomplaining. In the hopes that my mother’s love was as unconditional as my own, I stood by and allowed her to slowly kill my sister, too, didn’t I?
Her motives might have been loving, initially, but her obsession over Rebecca’s health drove her to do the unthinkable.
And I did nothing to stop it. My sins were those of omission, but all the same, I lacked the fortitude to stand up for myself or Rebecca .
. . I never once stopped to consider the consequences of my inaction.
I could punish myself for my mistakes forever, or I could change, and take agency over my own life.
I pull my hands from Kate’s. “I hear it gets dreadfully cold in England. I’m not sure.”
Her face falls for a moment, then brightens again.
“You’ll come around, darling. Just think about it.
I certainly won’t go without you.” She pulls me close and kisses me, biting my lower lip.
“If we rot and grow old here, with golden dreams unmet, then at least we’ll rot in bliss together, won’t we? ”
She draws me down onto the chaise, and while I revel in her kisses and caresses as I always do, I consider the fact that I’m almost as much of a prisoner here as I was at City Jail.
Even though Kate’s heart makes for the loveliest prison I’ve ever inhabited—and one I’m not entirely sure I want to be free of, it’s a prison all the same.