t r i ed t o r ape m e! G od, I shou l d have l e t you bu r n. I shou l d have done it and r un away w it h no one t he w i se r . ”
He r a ng e r wa s a hot thing th a t gr ew w ithin h e r ch e st . Ma rtin h a d l e ft h e r without a look b a ck . R ott e n , f e ckl e ss b a st a rd . He ’d l e ft h e r a ll a lon e. He r lip tr em bl e d a nd sh e bit it h a rd . Dam n it a ll , sh e didn’t w a nt to cry . T h e littl e r a t Billy wa s right , crying wa s for childr e n a nd wea k -m ind e d individu a ls .
“ But you didn’t l ea v e me, e h? ” Billy’s voic e wa s un e xp e ct e dly soft . “ T h a t’s gott a count for so me thin’ . Ha sn’t it?” H is thin bro w s dr ew tog e th e r . “ N ot ma ny th a t wou l d s a v e a hid e as fl ea— bitt e n as m in e. ”
“ I shou l d burn you in th e bed now , ” sh e m utt e r e d without h ea t .
Billy l a ugh e d l ow . “ Ay e, I r e ckon you should . Look it , ” h e b e g a n , his long f a c e going a nic e sh a d e of r e d , “ I wa s a shit , right . T o co me at you lik e th a t . ”
S h e look e d at hi m a sk a nc e. “ Ye s , you w e r e. ”
He sank f u rt he r i n t o t he p ill ows. “ A ll ri gh t , a huge sh it .
I ’ m… f uck. I ’ m so rr y, eh? ”
M ir anda s i ghed. “ I am, t oo. For a ll of it . ” He r body f e lt t oo heavy t o ho l d up. “ I ’ll go get some l audanum. ”
S h e didn’t look at hi m as sh e ma d e h e r wa y to th e door . S h e ’d cry in th e priv a cy of a noth e r roo m a nd curs e hi m for ma king h e r f ee l pitiful .
“ M ir anda. ”
S h e stopp e d , th e un e xp e ct e d us e of h e r n ame shocking h e r .
B ill y ’ s exp r ess i on was ha r d and un f o r g i v i ng as he he l d he r gaze. He r e was t he f ace of t he c ri m i na l , t he man who ’ d made he r b l ood r un co l d, t hen ri gh t eous ho t i n t he a ll ey. “ We ’r e a ll mons t e r s, l uv . Each and eve r y one of us. So happens some of us have p r e tti e r f aces t o h i de beh i nd i s a ll . ”
O n a t r a i n , s o m e w h e r e i n M a r y l a nd , U n i t e d S t a t e s o f Am e r i c a, April 1881
Bon e wea ry a nd f ee ling oddly fr e tfu l , Arch e r slowly ma d e h i s w ay by t r a i n ba c k t o N ew Y o r k C i t y . H e h ad b u s i n e s s th e r e th a t n ee d e d a tt e nding . And a ft e r th a t? W ould h e go to London? O r st a y a w a y? He could not decide. H is world f e lt off , as though its a xis h a d been tilt e d in th e oth e r dir e ction . T h e r e w e r e no m or e dr eam s of M ir a nd a. N o ma tt e r how h a rd h e tri e d , sh e wou l d not co me to hi m.
As a r e sult , h e a l m ost n e v e r sl e pt . W h a t wa s th e point wh e n sl ee p h a d b e co me a d a rk void? I t ma d e hi m a ngry , churlish e v e n , th a t his on e l a st pl ea sur e wa s d e ni e d hi m. Dam n it a ll , h e n ee d e d h e r .
H is r e fl e ction flick e r e d in th e l a rg e pictur e w indo w of his priv a t e p a ss e ng e r c a r as th e tr a in w e nt through a tunn e l . He clos e d his e y e s to th e sight .
C o me b a ck to me, Arch e r .
He w a nt e d to m or e th a n h e w a nt e d his n e xt br ea th . But how could h e e xp e ct h e r to lov e th e thing th a t h e ’d b e co me ? W h a t w o ma n wou l d w a nt a m onst e r?
E v e n so , h e wa s uns e ttl e d a nd w orri e d a bout h e r . He could not pl a c e e x a ctly why , only th a t h e f e lt as though sh e w e r e in p a in , th a t sh e n ee d e d hi m, too . W ishful thinking , a nd y et as h i s t r a i n s t ea m ed a l o n g on t h e pa t h t o N ew Y o r k , h e
p e nn e d a l e tt e r to his ma n in London . I t h a d been too long sinc e th e l a st r e port , a nd Arch e r n ee d e d to know how his unw i tt i ng fi a nc ée wa s f a ring .
London , Ma y 20, 1879
T h e y s a t tog e th e r on th e s ma ll b a lcony fronting h e r hous e. I t h a d onc e been th e
He r a ng e r wa s a hot thing th a t gr ew w ithin h e r ch e st . Ma rtin h a d l e ft h e r without a look b a ck . R ott e n , f e ckl e ss b a st a rd . He ’d l e ft h e r a ll a lon e. He r lip tr em bl e d a nd sh e bit it h a rd . Dam n it a ll , sh e didn’t w a nt to cry . T h e littl e r a t Billy wa s right , crying wa s for childr e n a nd wea k -m ind e d individu a ls .
“ But you didn’t l ea v e me, e h? ” Billy’s voic e wa s un e xp e ct e dly soft . “ T h a t’s gott a count for so me thin’ . Ha sn’t it?” H is thin bro w s dr ew tog e th e r . “ N ot ma ny th a t wou l d s a v e a hid e as fl ea— bitt e n as m in e. ”
“ I shou l d burn you in th e bed now , ” sh e m utt e r e d without h ea t .
Billy l a ugh e d l ow . “ Ay e, I r e ckon you should . Look it , ” h e b e g a n , his long f a c e going a nic e sh a d e of r e d , “ I wa s a shit , right . T o co me at you lik e th a t . ”
S h e look e d at hi m a sk a nc e. “ Ye s , you w e r e. ”
He sank f u rt he r i n t o t he p ill ows. “ A ll ri gh t , a huge sh it .
I ’ m… f uck. I ’ m so rr y, eh? ”
M ir anda s i ghed. “ I am, t oo. For a ll of it . ” He r body f e lt t oo heavy t o ho l d up. “ I ’ll go get some l audanum. ”
S h e didn’t look at hi m as sh e ma d e h e r wa y to th e door . S h e ’d cry in th e priv a cy of a noth e r roo m a nd curs e hi m for ma king h e r f ee l pitiful .
“ M ir anda. ”
S h e stopp e d , th e un e xp e ct e d us e of h e r n ame shocking h e r .
B ill y ’ s exp r ess i on was ha r d and un f o r g i v i ng as he he l d he r gaze. He r e was t he f ace of t he c ri m i na l , t he man who ’ d made he r b l ood r un co l d, t hen ri gh t eous ho t i n t he a ll ey. “ We ’r e a ll mons t e r s, l uv . Each and eve r y one of us. So happens some of us have p r e tti e r f aces t o h i de beh i nd i s a ll . ”
O n a t r a i n , s o m e w h e r e i n M a r y l a nd , U n i t e d S t a t e s o f Am e r i c a, April 1881
Bon e wea ry a nd f ee ling oddly fr e tfu l , Arch e r slowly ma d e h i s w ay by t r a i n ba c k t o N ew Y o r k C i t y . H e h ad b u s i n e s s th e r e th a t n ee d e d a tt e nding . And a ft e r th a t? W ould h e go to London? O r st a y a w a y? He could not decide. H is world f e lt off , as though its a xis h a d been tilt e d in th e oth e r dir e ction . T h e r e w e r e no m or e dr eam s of M ir a nd a. N o ma tt e r how h a rd h e tri e d , sh e wou l d not co me to hi m.
As a r e sult , h e a l m ost n e v e r sl e pt . W h a t wa s th e point wh e n sl ee p h a d b e co me a d a rk void? I t ma d e hi m a ngry , churlish e v e n , th a t his on e l a st pl ea sur e wa s d e ni e d hi m. Dam n it a ll , h e n ee d e d h e r .
H is r e fl e ction flick e r e d in th e l a rg e pictur e w indo w of his priv a t e p a ss e ng e r c a r as th e tr a in w e nt through a tunn e l . He clos e d his e y e s to th e sight .
C o me b a ck to me, Arch e r .
He w a nt e d to m or e th a n h e w a nt e d his n e xt br ea th . But how could h e e xp e ct h e r to lov e th e thing th a t h e ’d b e co me ? W h a t w o ma n wou l d w a nt a m onst e r?
E v e n so , h e wa s uns e ttl e d a nd w orri e d a bout h e r . He could not pl a c e e x a ctly why , only th a t h e f e lt as though sh e w e r e in p a in , th a t sh e n ee d e d hi m, too . W ishful thinking , a nd y et as h i s t r a i n s t ea m ed a l o n g on t h e pa t h t o N ew Y o r k , h e
p e nn e d a l e tt e r to his ma n in London . I t h a d been too long sinc e th e l a st r e port , a nd Arch e r n ee d e d to know how his unw i tt i ng fi a nc ée wa s f a ring .
London , Ma y 20, 1879
T h e y s a t tog e th e r on th e s ma ll b a lcony fronting h e r hous e. I t h a d onc e been th e
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