CIRCE
1902—New York
Ruby lifted the chalice and the wand and raised her chin as the curtain opened, revealing her—so much of her—to the audience of Morgan’s ballroom.
There was a sudden hush that made her want to drop the objects and run, but she kept herself still, frozen as a statue, just as she was supposed to. Her eyes were straight ahead, searching for some sign of Theo, but she didn’t see him anywhere.
“The Order is proud to present to you John William Waterhouse’s masterpiece, Circe Offering the Cup to Ulysses. Behold the mother of witches, she who would lure men to her cup only to transform them into swine.”
To Ruby, he sounded positively angry about the whole thing, as though it were her and not some mythic being that had done the dastardly deed. The tone of his voice sent a chill through her, but she kept her hands lifted, just as the painting depicted, and counted the seconds until it was over.
Without warning, though, the cup she was holding suddenly turned cold, and the bowl of it, which had been empty only moments before, began to froth with a bloodred liquid that dribbled over the rim of the chalice and dripped onto her dress. She glanced over at Jack for some sign that this was supposed to happen, but all she saw was the fury in his eyes.
Before Ruby could figure out what was happening or how she could get away, the curtains closed and she nearly collapsed with relief. She could hear the applause on the other side of the velvet, but she didn’t care. She set the bloody-looking cup on the floor and looked at her stained hand. For a moment she was back in that dirty tenement, trying to keep the life from seeping out of Theo. And then Viola was there.
“Come,” Viola said, without any sort of preface. “We have to go. You have to go.”
Viola. Here.
It was so unexpected, so completely unbelievable, that Ruby couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing, much less follow the order Viola had just given her.
“Are you okay?” Viola asked when she realized that Ruby wasn’t doing anything but staring at her.
Ruby was shaking her head and stepping toward Viola before she knew what her feet were doing. Viola is here. The relief of seeing her there was almost too much.
Her hand was still sticky with whatever had burst forth from the cup, but Ruby couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch Viola’s cheek, just to be sure it was really her. The creature in front of her was wearing a silken gown that could have fit in at the opera, along with Viola’s usual scowl.
At her touch, Viola went very, very still. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”
But Ruby only shook her head and leaned forward, pressing her lips to Viola’s.
The moment her lips touched Viola’s, she realized what she’d just done. She started to pull away, horrified that she’d overstepped, when Viola’s mouth went soft beneath hers. Ruby nearly collapsed from the combination of relief and exhilaration she felt pooling in her body, heavy and warm and—
Viola pulled away, her violet eyes wide. “Why did you do that?” she asked, her fingertips touching her lips. Her cheek was marred with the red from Ruby’s hand.
“I don’t know,” Ruby told her. “I saw you and . . . I wanted to.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Viola took a step back. “This is all a game to you, isn’t it?”
Ruby’s stomach dropped. Viola had misunderstood. “No—” She stepped toward Viola, but the look on Viola’s face had her hesitating.
“What about Theo?” Viola asked, her voice dark.
Theo? “He wouldn’t care,” she said, knowing it was the truth. The poor dear would probably be relieved.
Viola was shaking her head. “You treat him like your plaything too.” Her voice was low and rough. “The whole world, nothing but toys for you because you have nothing to lose. Nothing.”
But Viola was wrong. She didn’t know, couldn’t have known that Ruby had already lost everything and had decided that it wasn’t worth living life like a mouse, always running. Always afraid. “That’s not why—”
Viola’s eyes were shining with angry tears. “You play with people’s lives because you can and then you walk away and go back to your fancy bedroom—to your maids and your servants.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Ruby pleaded. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but her throat was too tight, and she didn’t have the words.
“I understand too much,” Viola said dully, taking yet another step back. “I’ve lived in this world too long not to know how this will turn out. You have to go. Now.”
The pain in the other girl’s tone pierced Ruby. She took a step forward, her hand raised. “Viola, we can figure this out. It will be okay—”
“It wasn’t Torrio they sent to kill you,” Viola said, her voice like the knife she’d been holding the first time they met. “It was me. I risked too much to save your life then, and I’m risking everything now. So whatever that was, whatever you think is between us, do this for me and leave. Because my brother is out there, and so is Torrio. If they realize who you are—if they see Theo—they’re going to know. And we will both pay the price for that.”
For Viola she would have stayed, she would have risked everything, but for Theo? Steady, innocent, wonderful Theo, who had always been her rock. Who never told her no? She couldn’t sacrifice him.
“This isn’t over between us,” Ruby promised.
“Yes, it is,” Viola said, but the shine of tears in her eyes gave away the lie of her words.
In the fraught silence that stretched like a chasm between them, a woman screamed, and on the other side of the curtain, the gala erupted into chaos.