Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #4)

by Kerri Maniscalco

We humans could not help loving our monsters.

“She’s a person who deserves to have her story told. What does it matter where she was born? She’s a human, same as the rest of us.

Men prided themselves on aging. They might lose their hair and expand their bellies and still be deemed a wondrous catch, marrying twenty years their junior. Yet heaven forbid a young lady grow into old age and be proud of the lines on her face; the very lines that told a story of a life well lived. The nerve of us to live happily and without apology.

We needn’t complete each other; we complemented each other. He and I were whole on our own, which made us so much stronger when combined than two symbolic halves coming together to create one. Our bond had double the strength. Nothing could tear it apart.

Love ought to be a mutual delight.

“Love is immortal. Death can neither touch nor steal it. Especially when it’s true.

Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It’s one of the best weapons anyone possesses.”

The truth, Miss Wadsworth, is I’ve watched my sister navigate the world of men. Doing so with more grace than I ever could, were I in her position. I’ve watched you do the same. Biting your tongue when I’d want nothing more than to bite the offender. I delight in pointing out areas where man has failed, even if it changes only one mind. Or if it changes none. At least I feel as though I’m fighting on the side of women, not against them. Everyone needs to take responsibility for their own failures.”

“I long to live in a world where equal treatment is not something in need of commending.”

“A mind is a powerful weapon, but it doesn’t have to be used wickedly,” I said. “That’s a choice.”

“Beyond life. Beyond death”—he nuzzled my neck, whispering—“my love for thee is eternal.”