Maddox’s lips and fingers lured her out of her practical mind, and Katya left the time of day in the hands of the clock. “I’ll sleep until supper time,” she murmured, but it did not seem to matter. Her body snaked and curled under Maddox’s explorations, tracing borders and territories across her skin. His tongue marked cities and monuments. His hot breath drew rivers and mountains. Katya followed him down every trail, the two of them plastered close together to keep from falling out of the bed. Maddox shifted Katya’s hips to the middle of the mattress, rising above her and taking his place between her legs. Katya breathed him into her, aware of all the warm places their bodies touched. Maddox lowered his chest against hers, and as one, they moved toward the discovery of a new and distant shore.
In her ear, Maddox whispered, “Yes. I’ll be careful.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was one of those nights. Magdalene worked the food stall as surely as ever, collecting coins and paper bills from the customers. She handed down the bags of popcorn and plates of sausages on buns.
Behind the customers ran the real show. Magdalene watched it play out over their heads. The stately figure of Isolde Neumann arrived and passed behind the line of hungry customers. She was not easy to miss, one of the beyond-fashionable three-story hats on her head. A black velvet bow adorned the front of the band. Golden silk covered the rest of the form, its heavy appearance lightened by matching ostrich feathers. Perched atop her gleaming hair, any carnival guest could have scaled the monstrous structure and sat as high as the top seats of the Warden wheel. Isolde barely looked around her before she passed the corner of the food stall and let herself into Mr. Warden’s office. Magdalene caught her familiarity, the lack of a courteous knock to announce her arrival. She ushered herself inside as if passing from room to room inside her own house.
Magdalene was not sure how long Isolde stayed inside. Perhaps a half hour, perhaps longer. Magdalene wondered if they might be discussing business, but she could not reasonably explain what the daughter of a glass-ornament manufacturer could offer the Steampunk Carnival. Either she was making a deal to outfit the carnival over the winter holidays or their only business with each other involved no words at all.
Isolde reappeared, closing the door behind her, her face and hat as fresh as when she had arrived. Magdalene wondered how long it had taken to straighten her hat and jacket. How long had Isolde waited, checking her reflection in a sterling silver pocket mirror slipped from her purse, until the swelling of her kissing lips went down? Isolde traipsed back the way she had come, her spine straight and tall behind the line of chirping customers. With as much confidence as Mr. Warden himself, she did not glance left or right but continued on toward the front of the carnival. She rarely stayed to take in anything, save whatever awaited her in Mr. Warden’s office.
Magdalene asked Irina to cover the front counter while she took a break at the water closets. She had stopped asking the Englishman to do it, which did not matter to him. Irina accepted the temporary post with a satisfied twist to her lips, knowing Mr. Warden was too busy elsewhere to keep her from working the front line of carnival employees.
Magdalene crossed the back of the carnival, passing Brady’s game stall. His only acknowledgement was a gaze held longer than a casual meeting. He hid their acquaintanceship well, a great part of the reason Magdalene trusted him. He knew what he stood to lose and what he stood to gain, and he never took too big of a risk. He did not wave or wink or stare too long. He merely looked over, recognized her, and motioned the next customer to the counter to play.
A man brushed past Magdalene, a few inches closer than most guests walked by her, and she shivered. She barely recognized him, but she had seen him dozens of times over the past few months. His nondescript suit allowed him to merge in and out of the crowd, but Magdalene had learned to pick him out. She could spot Mr. Warden’s security more easily every week. They surveyed her, their eyes darting away when she noticed or intensifying their stares, almost daring her to react. Her heart would race, but her hands remained calm and professional. There was always another cup of coffee to hand out, another napkin needed.
Magdalene reached the first water closet in the row and shut herself inside. It remained the only place on the carnival grounds she felt security could not peek at her. She felt their eyes on her as she nibbled snacks to keep her strength up through the night. Mr. Warden allowed it, but she sensed their brains working, calculating how much she ate in dollars and cents. She felt watched as she walked to the front of the carnival every morning to climb into the carriage. She felt them inspecting every conversation she held with Katya and Irina.
Magdalene used the toilet and washed her hands in the sink, letting the cool water refresh her skin. She patted some cold droplets along her hairline under her hat brim, trying to ease the tension in her body. Regretfully, she dried her hands and started back across the carnival to the eastern food stall.
Irina, despite her gruffness, dealt surprisingly well with the customers. Magdalene had never heard Irina be short or annoyed with them. Irina stepped aside as Magdalene reentered the stall, and Magdalene swept back into her role, asking the first person in line, “What can I serve you tonight?”
The evening settled into a busy but predictable pace. Magdalene had almost forgotten about her close run-in with the security guard until she saw several of them leave Mr. Warden’s office. They spread out with a few feet between them, combing the crowd as they stalked toward the front gates.
Magdalene patted sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket. She tried to keep up with the customers’ orders, but several times, Irina had to correct her. Irina studied Magdalene’s weary face but said nothing. Magdalene offered the strongest smile she could manage and only ever replied with, “Thank you. My mistake.”
Magdalene felt hardly shocked – but hardly pleased – when a man reached the front of the line and stood silently instead of giving an order. His chocolate-brown top hat read slightly darker than his mud-colored suit. His sharp eyes pried information from her face from a gentle, trustworthy expression.
“Mr. Weis,” Magdalene guessed, her voice trembling with certainty and uncertainty. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like you to take a little walk with me, Miss Harvey.”
Mr. Weis’ unexpected accent filled his words with understated threat, making Magdalene work to keep her cool. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m needed here.”
“It’s urgent. I’m sure Mr. Warden and your fellow workers would understand.”
Swallowing hard, Magdalene asked Irina to cover the counter. She walked to the back of the stall and stepped out, meeting Mr. Weis at the front. He led her at a meandering, easy pace toward the entrance to the carnival.
“Are we leaving?” Magdalene asked, terrified to be alone with him.
“No.”
They passed the Beast and the bandstand before curving to the right to stay within the carnival gates.
Magdalene wondered if running through the gates and screaming for help might be her best option. So far, Mr. Weis had not acted overtly menacing, and Magdalene did not want to make the situation worse in case he meant well. She continued on past the game stalls at the front of the carnival. She hated Mr. Weis’ silence, the way it dug its claws into her, extracting scared blood and angry bile.
“Mr. Weis,” she said at last. “If you don’t intend to speak with me, I really do need to get back to the food stall. Irina hasn’t been trained to deal with the customers. Mr. Warden wouldn’t approve.”
Mr. Weis paused with a sidelong glance. “Miss Harvey, forgive me for pointing this out, but that is not something you have previously concerned yourself about.”
Magdalene rebuked herself for trying to bluff him. Of course Mr. Weis knew she put Irina to work at the counter against Mr. Warden’s wishes. Meekly, she replied, “I try not to do it so much in one night.”
“That’s a little closer to the truth.”
T
hey reached the southwest corner of the Beast, making their way in a loop past the water closets.
“What are you and Katya up to these days?” Mr. Weis asked.
At the mention of Katya’s name, Magdalene searched for her through the crowd. She found it impossible to believe she had walked almost three-quarters of the grounds without seeing the outrageously adorned hat or blue, embroidered jacket. Magdalene winced at the stabbing intuition in her gut. “You wouldn’t be interested in us, Mr. Weis. The everyday affairs of women can’t seem very fascinating to men with high-risk careers such as yourself.”
“What do you mean, high risk?” Mr. Weis’ brown eyes peeled her apart.
“Nothing.”
Mr. Weis cracked a grimace meant to soothe her. “I ask because I’m interested. Please. Tell me what the two of you have been planning.”
“Planning?” Magdalene’s hands fidgeted in front of her. She pulled them apart and pinned them to her sides. “What would we have been devising except perhaps a lovely roast dinner to repay the kindness of our landlady?”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Why not? She’s been widowed these past few years, and she’s been very kind to us.”
Mr. Weis led Magdalene past the western food stall. He stopped outside the door to the maintenance office. “Miss Harvey, I’ve heard you’re good at a great many things, but lying is not one of them.” Mr. Weis pushed the door open and ushered Magdalene inside.
The door to the inner room stood closed. Magdalene stepped slowly into the empty storage room, her muscles tightening as Mr. Weis joined her and closed the door. She thought she heard muffled breathing or shuffling in the other room. Before she could identify it, Mr. Weis spoke, covering it over.
“You really have nothing to say to me?”
Magdalene shook her head. It sounded like sighs, like sobs in the other room.
Mr. Weis exhaled, resigning. “They told me you wouldn’t talk. That’s why we started without you.” He turned the knob on the inner door and swung it open.
Magdalene barely kept herself from running in. Katya slumped on the floor, her arms held up by two of Mr. Warden’s inconspicuous security. One of them held a hand over her mouth, dampening her groans. As he pulled the hand away, Magdalene could see the full damage to Katya’s face. One eye swelled, turning purple and green. Her nose trickled blood to her lips, where the man’s fingers had smudged it across her fair skin. Katya’s dark hair lumped in a mess of curls and frizz, her hat discarded somewhere Magdalene could not see.
Katya hung her head for a minute, huffing each shaky exhale as she caught her breath.
One of the security men curled his upper lip. “Even the brave ones cry eventually.”
Katya snapped her head up, focusing more on Magdalene than Mr. Weis. Her eyes were not pleading but defiant and pained.
Magdalene plotted her words carefully, hoping they would emerge as casually and evenly as she needed them to. “Mr. Weis, I suggest you stop this at once. There’s nothing to keep me from running out of this room and notifying Mr. Warden what you’re doing.”
Mr. Weis scanned her face. “Who do you think gave the order? Any means necessary, Miss Harvey. Those were Mr. Warden’s exact words.”
“Necessary for what?”
Mr. Weis stomped his boot on the floor, and Magdalene looked at him sharply. “Do you value this woman’s life?” He jabbed a finger at Katya in the next room.
“Yes.”
“Then stop fooling around.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Weis. Slap me as hard as you like. I have nothing to tell you.”
Mr. Weis’ lips pursed in taunting. “That’s just it, Miss Harvey. We’re not going to lay a finger on you. I’m going to ask you questions, and if you don’t answer, it’s not you who suffers, at least, not physically.”
Magdalene heard a slight metal sound behind her and turned to the exit. A fourth man she had not noticed before, probably hidden in the corner, had moved forward. He gripped the handle tightly to the outside door.
“So I ask you again,” Mr. Weis said. “What are you up to? What are you planning?”
Magdalene studied Katya before she answered. Katya, like Brady, proved too smart to signal in any obvious way. Katya held Magdalene’s gaze, the same as Brady had. Magdalene steadied her breathing, forcing herself to remain calm. “Mr. Weis, I don’t understand what we’ve done to give you the impression we’re conspirators of any kind. Do women huddling together always have to be planning something, or are we allowed to talk about mundane things like hair and clothes and men?”
Mr. Weis nodded to the two men holding Katya’s arms. One of them, his bold blue eyes flashing with menace, lifted her arm even higher. He adjusted his grip on it so one palm met hers and his other hand cradled her elbow.
Magdalene maintained her crafted composure. “Mr. Weis, I can’t help you if you don’t answer me.”
“I’m not on trial here. We’ve been watching both of you. Every time I ask Mr. Warden or one of the security guards if you’re doing something you normally do, they assure me you’re not.”
“May I have an example, please?”
“All of your conversations at the food stall. I hear they used to be lighter, more enjoyable for you. Now every time you’re seen together, you look like you’re facing the gallows.”
“Work has been stressful lately.”
“Why?”
“We’re being watched by numerous security guards, for one thing.”
Mr. Weis leaned closer to Magdalene, his brown eyes purposeful. “People who have nothing to hide don’t get nervous.” Mr. Weis raised his hand from his side and squeezed the fingers together into a gloved fist.
The blue-eyed man snapped Katya’s wrist back. He held her upper arm firmly in place and twisted her forearm as he shoved it down into her elbow. Katya cried out, and the other man slapped his hand over her mouth. She stared at Magdalene, pleading her.
Not to tell.
“I don’t know what they could’ve said about us,” Magdalene insisted. She could feel sweat beading and itching along the top of her forehead. She dabbed it away with her glove as casually as she could.
“Don’t be dense,” Mr. Weis ordered, abrupt and condescending. “Everybody knows how close you are. You live together. You’re always talking.”
Katya stopped struggling until the man lifted his hand off her mouth. She shot a cruel smirk at Magdalene. “Please, Mr. Weis,” she begged with icy sarcasm. “If I were planning anything, do you think I’d share it with her? Everyone we know is about to have her sainted.”
Mr. Weis glanced Katya over, her beauty losing out to discoloration and pain. “I don’t want your opinions, Miss Romanova. This conversation is between me and Miss Harvey.”
Katya spat blood on the floor. “Tell them then, Miss Harvey, what we’ve been arguing about these past few months. It’s obvious they want to know. It’s so gripping.”
Magdalene shifted her shoulders, injecting a little caught-in-the-bread-box uncertainty into her voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know, about Maddox O’Sullivan.”
Mr. Weis’ head swiveled between the two women as they volleyed. It gave Magdalene all the reassurance she needed to keep going.
Magdalene brushed at the skirt of her dress, pretending Katya’s words were having their intended affect. “I don’t think we need to talk about that.”
“No?” Katya raged, sparing a sneer at security before they could clamp a hand over her mouth. “Really? Here this man is, two seconds from breaking my arm, and you want to play innocent?”
Magdalene did not respond, not sure what Katya wanted to hear.
Katya growled in thin amusement and shook her head. She looked straight at Mr. Weis. “My friend doesn’t want you to know that we’ve been fighting over Mr. O’Sullivan for some time. I’m sure you’ve heard that we’ve been seeing each other.”
Mr. Weis paused, then afforded Katya a brie
f nod.
Katya returned her glare to Magdalene’s guarded expression. “Miss Harvey seems to think we’re mismatched. She can’t decide which one of us doesn’t deserve the other. Am I too good for him, or is he too good for me?”
Magdalene cleared her throat. “He’s a more honest person than you are. He’s polite. He’s kind.”
“He’s a vagabond, a wanderer, something you know nothing about. You’ve never been outside this city. But that’s what you like about him, isn’t it?”
Magdalene nodded to keep an unconvincing lie from destroying their charade.
“She’s shy, Mr. Weis,” Katya persuaded. “She doesn’t want you to think she’s like me just because she fancies the same man.”
Mr. Weis gestured with his hand. Magdalene relaxed, thinking the others would let Katya go. The one with blue eyes jolted Katya’s forearm into her elbow again, and she gasped, her mouth gaping in shock. Magdalene had to use all her restraint to keep from racing to Katya’s side. Katya squeezed her eyes shut in agony, and Magdalene’s heart thundered for both their safety.
“I still don’t want your side of the story, Miss Romanova,” Mr. Weis interrupted. He turned to Magdalene, his eyes daring her to make a mistake.
Magdalene let all of her true emotions run through her words, the fear, the helplessness, the anger. Her hands shook in front of her. “Mr. Weis, is it so inconceivable that two friends would fight over their feelings for the same man?”
“No,” Mr. Weis acknowledged, waiting for more.
“Is it unbelievable that two women as different as we are could both show interest in the same person?”
Mr. Weis answered with a question. “Who else is Miss Romanova interested in?”
“What?” Magdalene’s voice resonated with genuine confusion. “I don’t know. She hasn’t mentioned anybody else to me.”
Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1) Page 20
