With a shout of triumph, Winthrop stands over me, then nudges me with his foot, rolling me over to face the audience. It’s imperative that I stare blankly ahead, without blinking, during this part, so that the onlookers will believe I’m truly dead. Winthrop then bends, lifts my “lifeless” body, and carries me to the chaise, which will be a wagon at the real event. The whole thing would be humorous if not for the gravitas and grim sense of purpose Kate brings to her role.
“Excellent.” The fearsome Winthrop departs, and my Kate returns. She brings me to my feet, kisses me, and spins me around. “You were spectacular. That moan of despair as I hammered the stake home! Absolutely perfect, my darling girl.”
“It wasn’t too much?” I ask, glowing in the light of Kate’s praise.
“Heavens no. After those lurid comics, the more moaning the better.”
“Oh, stop. Did you send the letter to the papers announcing Winthrop’s arrival?”
“Yesterday.”
I sink onto the chaise, my good humor fading. Everything is suddenly all too real. “Kate, what if we do this, and he still doesn’t stop? What if this murderer is more animal than human? Our performance won’t matter then, will it?”
“Think, sweetling. All of the victims have been young white women. Most of them, apart from the first, wealthy. An animal predator wouldn’t discriminate. No. This monster is fully human. I’d be willing to bet my life on it.”
“Please don’t tempt fate,” I say, looking up at her. “He’sgoing to know it’s all an act. Don’t you worry that he might seek revenge?Iworry, Kate. I’m no vampire, and much as you relish playing him, you’re no Winthrop. We’re both just women, like all the other victims. What if he comes after us next?”
“He won’t.” She kneels at my feet, taking my hands and bringing them to her lips. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t go out again as Varina until we’ve forced this killer to cease his rampage. And we will, mark my words. It’s almost over.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes, sweetling. And then we’ll be on our way to England, where I’ll take the Strand by storm. Now, let’s go over things again. More thrashing and moaning this time. They’ll want to see a fight.”
I groan. “You exhaust me.”
“You’re getting good, Lil. We don’t want to impede your progress, do we? I’ll reward you later.” She pulls me to my feet, binds my wrists behind my back (loosely, as part of the excitement for the audience is me breaking free from my bonds), and tugs me back to the center of the room, where we run through the scene. Again. And again. Until my body aches, sweat pools beneath my breasts, and hunger claws my belly.
That night, after Kate treats me to a hearty supper, I sleep heavily, and dream once more of my sister.
She’s older in my dream, inexplicably—closer to our mother’s age, her copper curls streaked with gray. She hums to herself as she dresses her dolls, lining them up on her bed. There are four altogether. One of them is the faceless doll from my previous dream, two smaller dolls for the twins, and Rebecca’s doll, with its coiled ringlets. “Don’t they all look pretty, all lined up in a row?” Rebecca croons.
“Why can’t you rest, Rebecca?”
She sighs, turning to face me. It’s disconcerting, seeing her older, knowing that she’ll never be this age in real life. “Because I worry about you.”
“Worry?”
“Do you trust her?”
“Who?”
She only smiles wistfully.
“Who, Rebecca?”
“You know who I’m talking about.” That same wistful smile. “Love has made you a fool, sister.” She strokes the faceless doll’s brown hair. “Open your eyes.”
I startle awake, my heart pounding. I catch my breath, staring up at the canopy. Kate sleeps next to me, breathing steadily. My vision adjusts to the dim light filtering through the curtains, as I study my lover in her sleep. She is beautiful, yes. It’s undeniable, with her long, dark lashes at rest on her cheeks, her full lips slightly parted. She could be male, or female, or a sexless archangel in repose. How quickly she’s become my world. How gamely I’ve offered myself to her.
Do you trust her?
Do I? Because of course Rebecca was talking about Kate. Who else would it be?
I think of her passionate dominance over my body, her coy, flirtatious machinations. Kate would never hurt me. Or anyone else. Would she?
I sit up, suddenly in need of fresh air. Everything feels too close. Though it’s only late springtime, the humidity is already suffocating.But when I swing my legs over the side, Kate stirs. “Where do you think you’re going?” She grasps my waist from behind, pulling me to her. Her hands wander over my body, squeezing, groping. Desire blooms low in my belly, as it always does at Kate’s touch. “God, you’re so soft. So warm.”
She burrows her face against the nape of my neck, and I go limp and weak as she lifts my nightgown and works her way down the length of my body, trailing kisses along my bare spine. She hoists me up onto my knees and, with a low groan, sets to her hungry work, sending all my thoughts of leaving our bed into flight. In moments, she has me shaking, then suddenly ceases her ministrations, tumbling me onto my back. She straddles me, looking down at me with a wicked grin. I arch my hips upward, eager for more. “I would have you, sweetling,” she says. “Completely.” She takes one of my nipples in her mouth, still encased in the thin cambric gown, and pulls with her teeth. I whimper as pain and pleasure knot together in a tangle.
