Read Online The Diabolical Miss Hyde by Viola Carr - Free Book Online Page B

ache and I shiver and his eyes glitter with dark purpose, and for some reason . . . I can’t escape.
    I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Has he bewitched me? Maybe it’s because his wild hair gleams like fire and he smells of absinthe and sorrow and forbidden sin.
    Maybe it’s just the razor at my breast, threatening to slice my bodice apart and gut me like a rabbit.
    But the beat of his heart against mine is more dangerous than any sharpened steel edge. God help me, I’m terrified, but I’m fascinated, and I want to blame Lizzie but I can’t.
    Because Lizzie isn’t here.
    â€œDo I disgust you, Eliza?” His whisper is small, forlorn. Tragic. And the truth slashes horror into my soul.
    Mr. Todd is lonely.
    Oh, sweet Jesus.
    I open my mouth to answer, but for once in my life, I can’t think of a single thing to say.
    He glides the razor’s edge along the line of the bone in my bodice. It whispers through a layer of golden silk, effortless. No resistance at all. “Do I frighten you, perhaps? You’re thinking, ‘What’s the right answer? What can I say to convince this madman not to slice me up?’”
    My voice withers, leaving only a dry whisper. “It . . . it had crossed my mind.”
    A tiny laugh. “No. You understand me better than that. You and your shadow. Admit it. We’re the same.”
    A scream bubbles in my chest, and I choke it down. “You’re wrong, Mr. Todd.”
    â€œAnd you’re lying, Eliza. We’ll work on that. You needn’t be shy with me.” His lips are so close to mine, and he eases closer, to brush a hot kiss on my ear. “I like you just the way you are . . .”

THE ILLUMINATION OF MATTER
    E LIZA GASPED AWAKE, AND THE FAMILIAR DREAM- memory shimmered away like a ghost.
    Uhh. Stale smoky stink sickened her. She pushed up on her elbows, raised a feeble hand to ward off the glaring sun . . .
    From the left. Her bedroom window was on the right.
    She groaned. She was still wearing Lizzie’s cherry-red dress, too big around the chest now and greasy with sweat. Her hair tumbled in knots, most of the pins missing. Her skull ached fit to crack, and her stomach had peeled raw inside. Her mouth tasted like a small creature had died in it. Oh, my. Did we get drunk again?
    She sat up, stretching cramped limbs. A whitewashed ceiling, broken wooden beams and soot. Her searching fingers met rough woolen cushions, the burred wooden edge of a chaise. Across the room, a bar, barrels of gin stacked three high, scattered tables and a few revelers passed out snoring on the floor. Some public house . . .
    Lizzie must have had herself a fine night on the town. At least, thankfully, she’d woken alone.
    Memory taunted her, dancing just out of sight. Warm whispers and laughter lingered at her mind’s shadowy edges, a world of forbidden experience that Eliza secretly longed to taste.
    She flushed. Such dark, unspeakable envy. Unthinkable . . .
    Oh, many times she’d examined herself. Checked her body for signs of . . . well, of whatever Lizzie had been doing. But she never found anything. Always unbruised, unhurt, intact. As if the elixir remade her. Washed away Lizzie’s sins, and kept Eliza innocent.
    Except for this fearsome headache. What a pity Mr. Finch couldn’t brew a potion to magic that away. And like a sniggering idiot in the basement lurked the uncomfortable notion that Lizzie knew a whole lot more about Eliza’s doings than Eliza did about Lizzie’s. Lizzie hovered every day in the back of her mind, waiting to spring alive . . . but when Lizzie was in control? Eliza slept, the fitful slumber of nightmares, and later, the events of those dark-lit nights seemed ghostly, confused, a fevered dream. Especially when Lizzie went drinking.
    And Lizzie always went drinking.
    Eliza scrambled up, tugging the red satin over her bust. It