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

by Kerri Maniscalco

A lovely dream began—a preview of our upcoming nuptials. I was dressed in my wedding gown, my veil trailing like a cloud behind me. The young man waiting at the altar was dressed in black. From his midnight suit to his shadowy form. Even up to the tips of his twisted horns, gleaming like twin obsidian blades. My blood prickled. That wasn’t… I thrashed about, trying to wake myself. The man waiting for me had no face, no discernible features other than the horns on his head. In my dream I began trembling, the bouquet of roses I held pricking my hands. Blood dripped on my dress and onto the ground, mixing with the petals already strewn there. He didn’t speak or move; he simply waited. Silent. Foreboding. Radiating menace. I dug my heels into the smooth marble of the chapel. But it was no use. I was pulled to him as if he were a magnet tugging me closer against my will. He was only a silhouette, but I recognized who he was. Our destinies seemed fated for this moment. As if we’d been set upon this course our whole lives and all of my choices leading up to this had been mere fiction for his amusement. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t. It was the first night I dreamed of the devil, and I feared it wouldn’t be the last.