The Ripper (Page 20)

"What do you think?" she asked shyly, twirling in the mirror.

"She’s lovely, isn’t she?" the saleswoman murmured. "We tried two others as wel , and your wife looks equal y exquisite in al of them."

"She’s not . . . yes," I said simply. It was so much easier to lie. "We’l take this dress. We’l take al of them," I said, pul ing her aside to compel her to give us the purchases for free. The expression in Violet’s eyes was worth it.

Instead of taking a coach back to the hotel, we walked. Every so often, I caught her stealing glances of herself in the windows, twisting the skirts of her new emerald-green dress. It was nice that I could make someone happy.

"I fear I won’t be able to repay you," Violet said at one point.

"No need." I shook my head. "Your friendship is repayment enough."

"Thank you. But I feel like I’m not being a good friend. Al I do is talk about myself. I only know your name, and that you’re from America. Are you a businessman?"

I laughed. "No, I work on a farm. I’m just like you. And I know what it’s like to lose a family member. My brother once went missing. I was worried sick about him."

"Did he turn up?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Eventual y. And I know you’l see Cora soon." My heart went out to Violet and her missing sister. "Tel me more about her," I said.

"Wel , we fought of course. But al siblings do, don’t they? She had to do everything first. And of course I wanted to be just like her. I don’t think that I would have moved to London without her. And now that she’s not here . . ."

"You have to figure out who you are," I murmured.

"Yes," Violet agreed. "But it’s hard to know who I am without Cora. We’re that close. Is that what it’s like with you and your brother?

"No." I shook my head.

"Did you have a fal ing-out?"

"Yes, but that’s long in the past. Right now, I’m only focused on my future," I said, offering the crook of my elbow for her to loop her arm through.

"Wel , your brother’s making a mistake, to fight with you," she said.

"And I’d never fight with you, if you were my sister," I said. I was enjoying our comfortable back-and-forth.

We stopped by the hotel to drop off our bags with the bel hop and then continued on our way to the theater.

"I feel like this is a dream and I don’t want to wake up," Violet said, her eyes shining as an usher led us to our seats. Being with Violet felt natural, and our easy banter reminded me of the way that Damon, I, and the rest of the boys would tease the Mystic Fal s girls at barbecues and social functions during the year.

Suddenly, the theater went dark and the curtain rose on the stage.

"Oh, Stefan!" Violet said, clapping her hands together as she perched on the very edge of the velvet-covered chair and leaned her elbows on the railing of the box. Dozens of chorus girls came out, wearing flouncy skirts and large hats, and I tried to pay attention to the song they were singing. But I couldn’t. Al I could think of was Damon. Why had he done this? It had taken years, but I’d found peace. Couldn’t he do the same? He could feed on women and have his fancy parties al he liked. I just wanted him to stop destroying other people’s lives. I was convinced that we could both live and let live. But I couldn’t live if my brother was kil ing.

I saw Violet glance at me and I tried to look as if I were enjoying the show. But inside, I was frustrated. I hated the way everything always came back to Damon, and most likely would, for eternity.

"I didn’t see Cora," Violet said in disappointment. "Maybe she’s not in this show."

"Hmmm?" I asked, realizing the curtain had gone down and thunderous applause was emanating from al corners of the theater house.

"The show! The first act is over," Violet said. "And, oh, Stefan, it was ever so lovely!"

"You liked it, then?" I asked mechanical y. If Cora wasn’t here, had we just wasted another night? Maybe the Journeyman was stil open. I was about to tel Violet our plan when I noticed tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

"If only . . ." she began.

"If only what?" I asked.

"If only Cora were here. Every time the curtain opened, I’d just cross my fingers and send a prayer to St. Jude, but . . . oh wel . I stil liked the show. Thank you," she said, smiling wistful y.

"I understand," I said, squeezing her hand. I did understand. When Damon had gone away to fight in the Civil War, back when we were humans, I’d always felt a half second of regret whenever I was doing anything enjoyable, thinking how much better it would have been if only he’d been there to be part of it. And even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was now better off without my brother, there was stil a vestigial pul that wished I could be with him. The more I saw of the world, the more I realized that not al people had bonds like mine with their siblings. And maybe that was far better than what I’d had, and what I’d lost.

The curtain opened again and another act, more opulent than the last, began. I tried to watch, but I couldn’t keep track of something even so elementary as who played the lover or the vil ain, and the lyrics for the musical numbers seemed sil y, not charming. So I watched Violet instead. Lit up in the glow of the stage lights, she looked absolutely entranced, and the happiest I’d ever seen her in our short time of knowing each other.

As the curtain came down, I stood and clapped politely along with the audience.

"Oh, Stefan, thank you!" Violet said, spontaneously throwing her arms around me. "I don’t want this night to end!"

"You’re welcome," I said, shifting my weight from side to side impatiently. In front of us, the lead actress stood on stage, blowing kisses to the audience, while members of the front row were throwing flowers toward her.