“You could have killed me!”
She sighs, crosses her arms over her chest. “You forget that I know the human body. Intimately. You were in no mortal danger. I was well southwest of your heart. Your plump little breast might have a scar. That’s all.”
I want to slap her, hard, across the face. But I lack the courage to do so. Instead, I turn my head, unable to meet her steady gaze. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. How I hate her in this moment! Her smug look. Her condescension.
“You ought to be ashamed, Lil.”
“Ashamed? Of what?”
“Of how you treat me. I’ve saved your life. Twice now.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Or is it three times? Yes. Three. Counting the search party who wanted to lynch you.”
“I trusted you! I trusted you not to hurt me.”
She scoffs, shakes her head. “It’s only a puncture wound. It will heal.”
“It isn’t just the wound. It’s so much more than that.” I push the covers back, scurrying out of bed.
Kate sighs. “I knew you would be upset. But you’re acting like a spoiled child. I saved your life, Lillian! Saved countless others. There hasn’t been another murder since our act. Not one.”
I clench and unclench my fists, my nails biting into my palms. “How ... how long have I been asleep?”
“Four days.”
“It happened again, then. The catalepsy.”
“Yes. And I’ve not left your side. I’ve dripped water into your mouth with a sponge. Washed you. Held a mirror to your face, to check your breathing.” Hurt brims inside her eyes. “Come, let me make you something to eat. You have to be famished.”
I scoff, turning my back on her, but she’s right. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, just as it did when I woke in the crypt. She closes the distance between us and wraps me in her arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. I stiffen at her touch. “Please don’t be cross. We’re free now. Really and truly. Try to think of that.”
“Don’t youeverbecome Winthrop in my presence again,” I say, whirling to face her. “Never. God help me, if you do, I’ll leave you, Kate. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.”
“Do you know who Winthrop is, darling? Who I based him on?”
I bark a laugh. “The devil himself?”
“One would think. But I based him on Lionel.”
“What?”
“I becamemymonster to exorcise him. Just as you had to become yours.”
I still, horror and disgust running through me. I push away from her. “You ... you bedded me as him. Twice. Can’t you see how that sickens me now, Kate? Knowing what that means?”
“Yes, and I don’t expect you to understand. But becoming Ezra Winthrop helped me vanquish Lionel. The memory of what he did to me. More than you could ever imagine. Becoming him gave me power when I felt powerless. Lionel inspired Winthrop. But I made him my own. He’smycreation. Controlling him—even if it’s only in my imagination—cages the lion.”
“He beat you!”
She flinches. “Yes. He did. And far worse. That’s the reason I can’t bear submitting. To anyone.”
The next question is sour, bitter as bile on my tongue, but I must ask it, all the same. “Were you ... did you act like him? The things he did to you ... did you do them with me?”
“No. And I never would. That was all me, sweetling. You were willing. You wanted it. What he did to you. My Winthrop, at least, is gentleman enough to require consent.”
I let out my breath in a rush. Grateful, at least, that I didn’t give myself over to something as evil as I feared.
“I promise you, Winthrop won’t ever return. I understand why you’re angry. I do. I’ve compromised your trust.” Kate reaches for me. I pull away at first, then melt at the insistence of her arms. She enfolds me, swaying me from side to side. “Our performance was astounding,” she says, kissing the nape of my neck. “They believed it as if it were gospel. Your catalepsy was the real miracle of it all. The coroner came forward, took your pulse, listened to your chest. Pronounced you dead. It was perfect. No one questioned it. You should have heard the cheering, Lillian. We brought the house down. Men came up to shake my hand and congratulate me. One girl wanted a lock of your hair, asa souvenir. I obliged her, of course.” Kate grins. “I’m a hero, sweetling. It’s really something.”
A sickening tumble of horror runs through me. They cheered my death. Applauded my would-be executioner as a hero. Even though I know it was all an act, my feelings are hurt by Kate’s glee.
