Tear You Apart

by Sarah Cross

  “Banned?” Viv said.

  “Yup. Check this out.” Rafe held up one of the invitations. Light glimmered across the silver Yes or No? “Yes,” Rafe said. “Yes, mofo, I accept.” But nothing happened. The invitation remained intact. Rafe showed her his forearms. “See? No silver diddlies.”

  “What did you do to get banned?” Viv asked. “I didn’t even realize you’d been there.”

  “Eh, it was no big deal. I was pretty drunk—open bar all night—and I think I pissed in the punch bowl or something. I pissed somewhere I wasn’t supposed to. Nothing worth banning a man over, but they’re kind of prissy down there.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Layla said.

  “That’s nature. You think I won’t piss wherever I want when I’m a Beast? Get used to it, ’cause you’re gonna be seeing it all the time.”

  “I hope you enjoy that perk,” Layla said, “because you’re going to be a Beast for the rest of your life. And I’m not going to be anywhere near you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re gonna be all over me,” Rafe said. “Just as soon as—”

  The sword slid out again and this time Freddie’s jaw was clenched. “Blood is going to be all over you if you don’t start being respectful.”

  “Jesus, Knight! Does this kid need medication?”

  Viv stepped between them. “Could you stop before Freddie decides to use you for decapitation practice?”

  “I don’t remember him being this high-strung. This is because of Mira, right? The thwarted happily ever after? You need to get laid, son.”

  “When I said stop, I meant now.” Viv took the invitations from him. “Anyway … thanks for these.”

  “No problem. People were happy to give them up when they heard it was for you.”

  “You told people it was for Viv?” Jewel asked.

  “Uh … was I not supposed to? They needed a motivating factor to part with those suckers. And kissing up to the new underworld princess was a pretty good one.”

  “We didn’t want anyone to know whether or not she was alive,” Jewel said, wiping petals from her lips. “We didn’t want word getting back to her stepmom.”

  “You think her stepmom doesn’t know everything that goes on here? She’s got that mirror to tell her Viv’s alive. ‘Hey, am I the fairest? Nope, still old and ugly compared to Viv.’ ”

  “Well, Regina tried to kill her today, not yesterday, so maybe, if you’d kept your mouth shut—”

  “Maybe a witch who works retail heard you asking if they had any black-white-and-red dresses in stock—ever think of that?”

  “Guys, it’s fine,” Viv said. “It doesn’t matter how Regina found out. I just want to go to the underworld and … get out of here.”

  “That’s right, Viv,” Rafe said. “Your life is not over. It’s just beginning. Go get it.”

  “Uh, thanks.” She sighed and looked at her friends. “Are you guys coming with me? What’s going on?”

  “Can we go like this?” Mira asked.

  Her friends were dressed for a picnic, not a nightclub: Mira in a T-shirt and shorts, Blue in a T-shirt and ripped jeans, Freddie in khakis and an Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Layla in a sundress.

  “You’ll stick out, but they’ll let you in,” Viv said.

  Rafe grinned. “Ladies and gents, I’ve got tons of formal wear in the house. Smells like mothballs, ’cause some of it was Granny’s, but a very classy array. You are welcome to any of it.”

  Mira and Blue exchanged glances. “There’s no way your brother would be at that club, right?” Mira asked.

  “No, that’s one place we definitely won’t run into Felix.”

  “There are only five invitations,” Freddie said. “I’ll excuse myself.”

  “No, I’ll bow out,” Jewel said. “I’ve already been there. You four should go. Just take care of Viv and make sure she absolutely, one hundred percent wants to stay before you leave—okay?”

  “I’ve made my decision,” Viv said.

  “Just make sure,” Jewel repeated.

  Mira, Blue, Freddie, and Layla went into the house with Rafe. Layla seemed reluctant to enter the house that might be her prison one day, but Mira coaxed her inside.

  Jewel paced back and forth on the driveway. “Are you sure? You’re really sure?”

  “I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to remember every—everything I did with him. To him.”

  “Going to the underworld isn’t going to make you forget Henley. Or forgive yourself. What if he’s alive and—”

  “He’s not. We both know that if he were alive, he would have come for me right away. Or let me know, somehow. I have to accept that I won’t see him again. It’ll be easier to do that if I’m not here.”

  Jewel sighed. She pulled a string of bleeding hearts from her mouth and crushed it in her fist. “You’ll send invitations so we can come visit?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll come back eventually? Or are you not going to come to any more of our shows?”

  “Eventually,” Viv said. “Maybe you guys can play a gig in the underworld.”

  “With our banned bass player?”

  “I’ll vouch for him. Maybe I can get him unbanned.”

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  Viv nodded. She didn’t want to get choked up. It was too easy lately to cry over everything. She took a moment, breathing until the tightness in her throat relaxed. “I won’t be that far away.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  IT TURNED OUT THAT THE THEME that night was Paradise, not Angels, and though girls in lingerie were few and far between, plenty of guests wore wings, halos, and other ethereal attire. Lots of white and gold, sheer and shimmery fabrics, gladiator sandals, and flower crowns.

  Viv was dressed for a cocktail party, Mira had found a skyblue dress from the 1950s, and Layla shimmered in a violet beaded evening gown. Blue and Freddie wore vintage tuxes. Freddie had been forced to leave his sword in the car.

  “So I guess we picked the wrong outfits,” Blue said. “We should have gone with bedsheet togas.”

  “I like you in that,” Mira said, touching his sleeve.

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  Viv led them to the lakeshore where they waited their turn for the gondolas. As anxious as she’d been to get here, she wasn’t in a hurry to reunite with Jasper. She knew she wasn’t here as his guest or friend—not if she wanted to stay. That wasn’t their story and never would be. She was supposed to come here as a lovestruck rescued princess, a future bride.

  When Viv’s group reached the front of the line, Owen was just rowing back with an empty gondola. Viv waited until he’d made it to the shore and then climbed into his boat, leaving her friends to travel in pairs—Blue and Mira in one gondola, Layla and Freddie in another.

  “You’re back,” Owen said with genuine surprise. “We didn’t know if we’d see you again. In fact, I distinctly remember your prince crying after the horseman returned alone for the third time. There was some fighting in the palace, too. A rare argument between father and son. Your prince wanted to go up, find out whether you were still alive. But that was a no. It wasn’t time, apparently. At least, that’s how the maids reported it.”

  “I was in hiding. My stepmother sent a Huntsman after me.”

  “Congratulations on getting him to spare you.”

  “He didn’t. He—I got away. I don’t know if he’s still out there.”

  “He won’t find you here. They have a way of keeping people out. If the king doesn’t want you in the underworld, forget about an invitation—you can’t even pass through the door.”

  “Oh?” That was the first truly good thing she’d heard about the underworld king.

  “Uh-huh. So who are your guests?”

  As she gave Owen the rundown, half of her mind was floating forward into the future, trying to rehearse the conversation she would have with Jasper. She’d never really talked to him about Henley and now
she’d at least have to say that he was dead. She’d probably cry and if she did she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Then Jasper would know how much she loved Henley, and how much she wasn’t ready to love someone else.

  Viv had to do her best to hide that. Things wouldn’t be right between them—might always be tainted—if he knew her heart was gone. She had to heal privately, and when she was with Jasper she would have to play the part. If she wanted the safety her prince could offer her, then she needed to give him the romance he wanted. Pretend, until it became real.

  At the club, guests were lounging on white divans shaped like clouds, feeding one another grapes, pretending to play miniature golden harps. They drank wine from glasses shaped like lilies and ate cakes cut and iced to resemble roses, narcissi, forget-me-nots. A shallow stream curved along the edge of the dance floor, its waters shining with gold and silver fish. The decor was a mishmash of heaven and Mount Olympus and the fairy tale “The Garden of Paradise.” As if no one, not even their hosts, could decide what the theme truly meant.

  “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, be
ars. 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.”