The devil was a monster, but I would become his nightmare.

“If it’s a war you crave,” I whispered to the demon I couldn’t see, “I’ll bring the battle to you.”

Part of me worried I’d lose my nerve. One ounce of fear or show of mercy would cost me more than my own life. It would damn those I loved most. I’d lost my brother to this depraved creature; I’d set up a queendom in Hell if he dared to touch Thomas or Uncle again.

Now was the time to confront my own demons.

I searched my heart for weakness, finding none. I was going to end this. I’d be the one who’d stick a blade into the Ripper’s flesh, twisting until my hands were covered in his sins.

Thomas tossed back and forth, disturbed and feverish even in sleep. No matter how much I wanted him with me while I confronted Satan himself, I loved Thomas too much to involve him in this most treacherous pursuit. I was hunting the devil, and when I found him, I’d cut out his blackened heart.

“W-Wads—W-Wadsworth…”

I pressed my lips to his forehead, frowning at the dampness I found. His fever had finally broken. I pushed a few strands of hair back from his face, wishing I didn’t have to leave him in such a state. His eyes fluttered open. It took him a moment, but he slowly reached for me, a slight tremor going through his arm. He was still so terribly pale. I swallowed a wave of emotion down. It would only make him worry if he read the fear in my face.

“Wadsworth? Are you really here?” He dropped his hand, his head rolling to the side. “I dreamed…”

“Shhh.” I smoothed his hair back. “I’m right here, Thomas.”

His chest rose and fell, his breaths jagged and uneven. I moved my hand down to his wrist, subtly checking his pulse. It was still too weak for my liking, though it was slightly improved. But not by much. Thomas was not free from death’s grasp yet.

“I dreamed you were trapped in a castle,” he said, his shallow breaths coming faster, “belowground. There were bodies and bats. Monsters. I saw… I saw the devil, Audrey Rose.”

I pressed my lips to his temple; his skin felt like flames. It ignited the blaze I needed to consume lingering fears. I would murder the man who’d harmed my family. I would not be merciful. “It’s only a memory, Thomas. An awful memory. We’re not in Bran Castle anymore. We’re in Chicago. Do you remember taking the train here? Or the Etruria?”

“Don’t leave me.” He felt around for my hand, unable to open his eyes. “Please. Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Never.” I stared at the cloth and bottle of chloroform I’d uncorked and set on the nightstand an hour earlier. He was too weak for me to use it on him now. I wanted him to sleep, not die by my own wretched hand. He thrashed around, his nightshirt soaked through. I added another blanket to the bed, tucking him in as tightly as I could manage.

“Wadsworth. Wadsworth. You must promise. Don’t leave me.”

“Only in death.” I stroked his hair until his breathing calmed. “Even then I will not leave your side. I hope you don’t mind being haunted.”

His lips twitched, but a smile never fully formed on his troublesome mouth. I waited a few moments, not wanting to stop running my fingers through his soft hair.

“But there is something I must do,” I whispered as the slow, steady, rhythmic sounds of sleep drifted through the room, “and I have to leave you here. There’s one journey I must take on my own. When I return, I promise we will never be apart again. Not if God wills it.”

I waited a few more beats, watching and listening to his breathing. His sleep was deep now, and I doubted he’d wake until midday tomorrow. I memorized the shape of his face, the bone structure I’d been taken with from the moment I’d first set my attention on him.

In Uncle’s class, I’d thought he reminded me of a painting or sculpture done by da Vinci. All angles and lines; strong and sharp enough to carve a person’s heart out if they ventured too close. A smile started at the edges of my lips. I’d fought so hard against falling for him, never realizing I’d already been laid out on the ground, staring up into my future.

“I love you, Thomas Cresswell.” I kissed him gently, before straightening. I permitted myself another stolen moment alone with him, then forced myself to stand and leave his side. I needed to complete my task and be home before he awoke.

Because I would come home to him again.

I tiptoed out of his chamber, taking careful pains to mind each creak in the floor as I passed Uncle’s room. I paused at his door, hearing the same rhythmic breaths indicating deep sleep. Hopefully they’d both continue to mend. If I lost anyone else I cared for…

Vengeance settled around me like a demon on my shoulder. I slipped into my room and locked the door behind me, though I wasn’t sure who I was locking out. Abandoning my growing worry, I flung clothing around my trunk, searching for a small leather pouch. It had to be here somewhere; I never traveled without it.

After upending nearly all of my dresses and underthings from my trunk, I held up the item I’d been hunting. I quickly undid the buckles, laying my scalpel belt across my bed. It had been quite some time since I’d last slipped it over my leg. I set it aside and stepped into trousers that were easy to move about in, then picked it back up.

My fingers shook as I fastened the scalpel belt together. As much as I longed to eradicate my fear, it seemed it wasn’t quite ready to give me up. I took a few steadying breaths. I could not lose my nerve now. Not when so many lives depended on me.

I thought of Miss Nichols. And Miss Chapman. Miss Stride and Miss Eddowes. Miss Kelly, Miss Tabram, Miss Smith. Miss Jasper. Miss Van Tassel. And all the women we’d yet to connect to him.

I swept my hair up in a low knot, checked the weapon on my thigh, then grabbed my cane.

“I’m coming for you, Jack,” I whispered to myself in the looking glass. It might have been a trick of the lighting, but I swore my reflection shivered.

“Hello, have you come for one of Dr. Holmes’s famous tonics or are you interested in a room in the luxurious World’s Fair Hotel?”

The young woman standing beside the ornate cash register was undoubtedly another victim in waiting. I eyed her pale blond locks, her expertly painted lips, her youth. She was handsome in the way that seemed to matter to Henry or Harry or whoever this man was claiming to be. From what Minnie had mentioned during tea, outward appearances held the most value to him, though lives didn’t matter half as much; those he could toss away without a care.

“I am actually a friend of Dr. Holmes’s wife,” I said, noting the slight narrowing of her eyes at the word wife. Here was another secret he’d apparently kept. She needn’t worry. I was quite sure his new wife was dead. “I was hoping to speak with him. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Minnie and needed her sister’s address. Is he in?”

She pursed her lips. After a moment of collecting herself, she offered me another polite smile. “I’m afraid you missed him by moments. He won’t return until very late, or possibly tomorrow morning. It’s only my first day working here, but Dr. Holmes seems to be very mysterious about his private affairs.”

Her blush hinted that he’d already begun weaving a silvery web for her to get trapped in. Little did she know he was a venomous spider and not a handsome prince.

“I’ll rent a room for the night, then.” I slipped her an extra coin, her eyes going wide. “I’d like you to let me know straightaway when he arrives. I have other more… urgent… news.”

She stared at the coin for a moment, hunger for it gleaming in her eyes. Holmes might be a decadent flirt, but apparently his generosity didn’t extend to his purse strings. I hoped the anger writhing up inside me didn’t show on my face. Her gaze slid behind me before she snatched the coin and stuck it in her bosom. She handed me a key with a brass tag that had the number 4 on it.

“I’ll show you to your room now, Miss…”

“Wadsworth,” I said, giving her a warm smile. “And you are?”

“Miss Agatha James.”

Apparently her hospitality was being tested. Her response was clipped, as if each word cost her. She motioned for me to follow her to the end of the counter of tonics and other apothecary items lining the shelves and walls. In the far corner of the store, a door opened onto a narrow staircase. My heart beat furiously, but I wouldn’t let fear stop me from what I’d set out to do. No matter if I was planning to murder a man who’d evaded police and had slain a countless number of women already.

“Will this be your first evening staying at the Castle?”

“Castle?” I asked, thoughts flashing back to the imposing fortress of Vlad the Impaler in Romania and the corridors that seemed to crave blood. A shiver started at the base of my neck, dancing down to my toes. In Thomas’s fever dream he’d spoken of Bran Castle. “I thought you said it was named the World’s Fair Hotel.”

“It is.”

She smiled demurely as she motioned for us to continue up the stairs. It was a dreadful little corridor. The walls were covered in a deep charcoal wallpaper, and I could have sworn they were closing in ever so slightly the farther up we went. I had the off-kilter sensation of being stuck in a carnival fun house. That impression grew when I noticed skulls carefully drawn into the design of the wallpaper. A peculiar choice for a hotel.

“Locals call it the Castle, though. It’s so large, with over one hundred rooms—did you know it takes up an entire city block? Dr. Holmes is quite the businessman. Smart, too. He began construction on it right before they announced the World’s Fair would be held here. He’d already predicted it would be a lovely, safe home for the young women who came here to work. Isn’t that kind of him?”

I bit down on my immediate response to his kindness. This monster had grown tired of stalking women in the street. His new game was luring them into what they believed was a sanctuary, and then he unleashed his bloodiest desires.