Tear You Apart (24 page)

“If we eat something, do we have to stay here forever?” Mira asked.

“Different underworld,” Viv told her.

Layla sniffed a flower-shaped goblet and set it down. “Do they have anything besides wine?”

“I’ll find out,” Viv said.

She could tell by the way people were looking at her that she’d been recognized. That her story had traveled—Jasper’s inability to find her, the rumor that a Huntsman had struck in
Beau Rivage. Dancers gathered close together, grabbed their partners, and pointed her out, but they kept their distance, as if no one wanted to be blamed for delaying her reunion with Jasper. Their whispers rippled outward, from the people she passed to the far edges of the club, and maybe all the way to the palace, if that was where Jasper was.

From the bar she could see the Twelve Dancing Princesses and eleven underworld princes, waltzing and weeping, twirling so their skirts spread out like petals. She wondered how they felt about the suitor they’d lost. She supposed they were used to it by now. Having their hopes dashed. Striking up a friendship only to have the guy be killed after three nights.

Viv had found two goblets filled with pomegranate juice and was carrying them back for Layla when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her close, too close, his face buried in her neck—

Both goblets went crashing to the floor. A reddish-pink pool spread around her feet.

And though she knew that no one here but Jasper would dare to touch her like that, the memory of being tied to the tree was too strong. She went rigid, only relaxing when he said, “You’re alive. You’re all right. Viv, I was so—”

His lips brushed her neck: quick kisses of relief. “I heard there was blood all over your car. I sent a horseman for you every night, but you never came. And now you’re here. Tell me you’ll stay. Please …”

He held her so tightly that her heels lifted off the ground. Viv grasped his hands, gently prying his fingers away from her. “I’ll stay.”

By then they had drawn a crowd. Cursed loved a fairy-tale
romance, particularly at one of its high (or low) points. Her friends emerged from the crush of angelic onlookers. Viv knew it seemed strange—as long as they’d known her, they’d seen her with Henley. And now Jasper was standing beside her with one hand on the small of her back—protectively, where her märchen mark was—in a quintessential boyfriend pose.

Just like that, in a room full of witnesses, it was real. Or had to look real from now on. It occurred to her that so much of happily ever after was about making sure it
looked
like happily ever after to everyone else.

“Jasper, this is Blue Valentine, Mira Lively, Layla Phan, and Freddie Knight. You guys, this is Jasper. My prince.”

Jasper shook everyone’s hand; they all exchanged hellos, nice-to-meet-yous. She could sense that Jasper was trying to make a good impression, while also being a bit guarded. And her friends were trying to be friendly, but they seemed as wary of Jasper as they were of Viv’s decision to stay. Viv just stood there, smiling blandly, Jasper’s hand getting heavier, more and more like a promise she wasn’t ready to make.

“Is your hair naturally that color?” Jasper asked Blue.

“No, I dyed it. So people would think I had a villain’s curse and hate me and fear me. Like the X-Men.”

“It’s natural,” Mira said. “He’s just being … himself.”

“It was probably a rude question,” Jasper said. “I should have assumed it went along with your curse. Well, you won’t find yourself ostracized here. Our club is open to all manner of guests.”

“Koschei the Deathless comes here,” Viv told them.

“I am definitely a step above that guy,” Blue said. “Although not nearly as stylish.”

“Who’s…?” Mira started, and Blue stopped to explain the fairy tale to her.

“Why haven’t we met you before, Jasper?” Layla asked. “Do you not like Beau Rivage?”

“It isn’t that,” Jasper said. “I just … haven’t had the opportunity.”

“Well, I hope we’ll see you and Viv soon. There’s a lot to do up there. It’s not just beaches and casinos, if that’s what you’ve heard.”

“I’d like that,” Jasper said. “Once it’s safe for Viv, especially.”

“You should get a sword,” Freddie said. “Every hero needs one.”

“Do I need one?” Layla asked.

Freddie flushed. “Yes. You especially should have one. It may be the only thing that gets Rafe to shut up.”

It seemed rude to bring her friends all the way to the underworld and not let them have fun. So even though she didn’t feel like dancing, Viv took Jasper’s hand and led him onto the floor. She wanted her friends to enjoy themselves. They didn’t have to hover around her, worried they would miss some sign of her distress.

You’re happy to be here
, she told herself as she whirled around and around with Jasper.
Remember that
.

Viv couldn’t make herself dance for more than an hour. Too many people were watching, storing up the memory so they could tell their friends. She wondered what Regina would hear about tonight—and whether it would make her give up, or plot harder.

When Viv told her friends she was going to the palace, but they should enjoy the club until they were ready to leave, they insisted on coming with her.

She could tell that Jasper wasn’t happy; she could sense him drawing in on himself, closing conversational doors. There were things he’d shared with Viv that he didn’t want to share with her friends. Things about his family or their lifestyle. He gave half-answers and evasions, and when Mira spun around in the palace’s golden hall, and Blue grabbed her and hugged her and her laugh pierced the quiet, Jasper muttered, “Thank god my father isn’t here.”

“He isn’t?” Viv said.

“No, not tonight, he … had an appointment. He’ll be gone a while. Till dawn, probably.”

Layla stepped up behind them. She was looking above her at the chandeliers. “It’s strange … this is how I used to imagine my curse starting. In a place like this. Everything magical and … a little dark. But Rafe’s house is just a house. The front hall smells stale. Like beer and Doritos.”

“Not very fairy tale,” Viv said.

Layla laughed. “No, not very fairy tale at all.”

Jasper led them up the wide staircase, then down the corridor where his siblings lived, until they reached a door that was bare of any markings. “This is it,” Jasper said. He hesitated, then opened the door.

It was decorated similarly to Garnet’s room—dark colors, red velvet armchairs, a window seat—but it had been specially prepared for Viv. There was a tall, four-poster bed with a white coverlet embroidered with forest scenes. The floor was dark wood, the fireplace unlit. A pair of satin slippers waited on the
floor beside the bed, and there was a wardrobe full of gowns in every color, from plum purple to autumn gold. Stuffed animals had been arranged around the room: rabbits, foxes, squirrels, bears. The shelves were stocked with music boxes, windup songbirds, and a whole menagerie of glass animals. There were loads of books, candy boxes tied with ribbon, perfumed soaps, stationery. And, of course, there was a gilt-framed mirror on the wall. A silent one.

“I know you like animals,” Jasper said. “I didn’t know how else to give them to you, without …”

“Thanks,” Viv said. “They’re cute.”

Freddie opened a dresser drawer and then slammed it shut. Viv went over to see what he’d found. It was filled to the top with fancy underwear. Lace and ribbons and … Viv wondered who had chosen it, and felt almost as embarrassed as Freddie.

It was a relief to have her friends there, but also a strain. Jasper obviously wanted to be alone with her and was just waiting for them to leave.

Finally, she told her friends that she was tired. She hugged them good-bye, thanked them for coming, promised to send invitations. Jasper saw them out, and Viv, finally alone, made a tour of the room, touching the new dresses, the tiny glass animals, the lock on the window. She picked out a few stuffed animals—a chipmunk, a rabbit, a blue jay—and placed them on her bed. It didn’t cheer up the room or make it feel like home; it just reminded her of all the deaths that had led her to this place.

She opened a narrow pane of the stained-glass window and watched her friends head down the path. They kept stopping and looking back, reluctant to abandon her to her fate. She
loved them for it, but wished they would just leave, the faster the better, and stop thinking about her. Stop thinking there was a choice.

Blue was holding Mira’s hand. Layla was wearing Freddie’s tuxedo jacket over her shoulders, and Freddie was telling some kind of story and making sword-fighting motions.

When Viv heard Jasper enter, she closed the window and turned. His smile looked tired, like her friends had worn him out.

“Finally,” he said.

“You didn’t like them?”

“It’s not that. I’ve been mourning you for a week. I wasn’t in the mood to share you, and I don’t think they were in the mood to give you up.”

“They’re just worried.”

“Are you worried?”

She shook her head. She didn’t think
worried
was what she felt, so it wasn’t really a lie. She was grateful he didn’t ask whether she was happy. That would have been harder to fake.

“Are you hungry?” Jasper asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you want to try to forget it?”

“I—I’ll tell you.”

The bed was so high she had to climb onto it. She sat with her legs hanging over the edge, feet not touching the floor. Her hand found its way to the rabbit she’d placed there and she pulled it into her lap, playing with its ears while she spoke.

“Henley. He … died.”

“How?” Jasper asked quietly.

“Another Huntsman found me. Older—a guy Regina knew when she was young. He dragged me into the woods, and—you can see where he cut me.” She pushed the neckline of her dress down to expose the scars. “He was … toying with me. Making it hurt before he killed me.”

She took a deep breath. “But he didn’t have the chance. Henley showed up, and … told me to run. The last time I saw them, they were fighting for the Huntsman’s knife. No one knows how it ended. There was blood, but no one’s found their bodies. It’s not impossible that the old Huntsman would disappear, but Henley—if he was alive, he wouldn’t. That’s how I know he’s—that’s how I know.”

Jasper touched the scars on her chest. “It’s over now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

He kissed her. It was slow, soft, but it was a real kiss—a
relationship
kiss—and it was a shock to her system. She’d come here because she was heartbroken, scared, full of loathing for herself and her old dreams. But to Jasper her arrival was cause for celebration. Day one of their happy ending.

All the sick games she’d played with Henley, and this was the kiss that felt like betrayal. Now, when there was no one left to betray.

She kissed Jasper back. She didn’t want to sit there and
be
kissed like a dead girl. She didn’t know how long she’d need to grieve—maybe the pain would never go away. But she couldn’t expect Jasper to sit by for a year consoling her while she talked about Henley. She needed to be safe, and Jasper could keep her safe.…

Kissing him felt like trying on a glass slipper that didn’t fit.

But I can make it fit
. It would feel natural eventually.

When she said she was tired, Jasper offered to stay with her so she wouldn’t wake up alone. He went to his room to change, and Viv slipped into a white nightgown that looked like it had been designed for a virgin sacrifice. Sheer, puffed sleeves. Lace neckline. Pink scars standing out against the white of her chest.

That night, Jasper slept beside her, his hand on hers, his voice the last thing she heard before she fell asleep. The first night of the rest of their lives.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

VIV OPENED HER EYES, not to sunlight, but to the faint glow of the lanterns in the silver forest, filtered through the colored glass of her window. Instead of birds singing and the growl of a lawn mower, there was a vast quiet that gave the impression of an extreme emptiness.

She didn’t know if it was night or morning—there was no discernible difference in the underworld—but she couldn’t sleep. She pushed aside the covers and slid down from the bed. When Jasper didn’t stir, she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

The velvety carpet was littered with post-party debris: grape leaves, silver sashes, shoes the princes had kicked off. The silence was as heavy as the darkness.

Viv took the stairs slowly, alert for the sound of footsteps or creaking doors. Did anyone other than Jasper know she was here? She hadn’t met his parents, hadn’t spoken a word to his brothers, and now she was living in their home. She wondered
whether Jasper had even gotten permission for her to stay. If he hadn’t and she was discovered, would they send her back to the surface? And would Regina be waiting for her? She’d known Viv was going to the underworld, known Viv needed a dress. She’d known … too much. Did Regina think that all she had to do was wait for Viv to climb up through the manhole and then …

Barefoot, Viv crept deeper into the palace than she’d ever been. The marble floor was cold against her skin and the candles on the chandelier had melted down to squat stubs. Only about a third of the candles were still burning. Shadows crowded the hall and her own shadow joined them. The Viv in the mirrors looked solemn, ghostlike. More flames guttered and were swallowed by wax.