I puzzled it out for a moment. “Are you asking me to be one of your performers?”
“Only for one night. Though you’ll need to practice with the others every night to catch up.”
“Wonderful.” I rubbed my temples. “You’re forcing me to learn from the criminals you’ve hired.”
“Entertainers,” he corrected.
And possibly at least one murderer. “Well, they weren’t very welcoming when I attended their practice this morning. I’m not sure they’ll assist me with this bargain of yours.”
He stepped forward, that dangerous smile back in place. “Which is why I’m giving you lessons in front of them. Let them see how much I favor you… then they’ll do their best at gaining your attention.”
“But they’ll believe there’s something more inappropriate happening between us.” Another realization clicked in as he nodded. “You’re betting on it, actually.”
“Indeed, my star pupil is already learning.” He beamed. “So now you understand why that… Mr. Cresswell, was it? He’s not to be made aware of our bargain. We need this to appear authentic. Let them think I’m truly wooing you and winning your hand. They’ll be much more likely to bring you into the fold. And I need everything to go smoothly at the finale, especially after the murders. Investors get fickle about attaching their names and money to that sort of thing.”
Thomas trusted me completely; however, I couldn’t imagine him not being a little uncomfortable with this arrangement, especially after our earlier conversation. I hesitated. “Thomas is good with keeping secrets. Plus, you might want him participating in the finale, too. He’s very gifted—”
“His reaction to our alleged tryst needs to be unscripted, Miss Wadsworth. Should he fail in his performance, others will know there’s nothing between us. They will never speak to you or want to know you, should they catch even a whiff of dishonesty. I need them all on board with working to ensure the success of this carnival. Nothing will stand in my way, especially not some sensitive lover. I’ve worked too hard and sacrificed much in this endeavor. I will not fail now.”
I stepped toward the railing, allowing the cold breeze to clear my head. Thomas might not be happy, but the ruse would only last four days. In that time I’d be able to protect Liza from Houdini’s lies, learn sleight of hand as I’d wished and apply it to my forensics, and be granted access to the secretive carnival group. The very one that might be harboring a murderer. While it had its detriments, our bargain also had its beneficial points. I needed access to the performers to solve this case, and given their aloofness toward me, this was an opportunity I could ill afford to decline.
Mephistopheles moved to where I stood, his arm nearly brushing mine as he leaned over the railing and watched the moonlight bounce across the sea. This was a business transaction, nothing more. Any warnings of losing my head or heart blew away on the next ocean gust.
“Fine.” I stuck my hand out, pleased when he returned the gesture and shook. “You and I will play our game of pretend, but I require proof for Liza about Houdini. I think the news ought to come from me. When and where I choose.”
He glanced down at our hands, almost appearing surprised at finding them still clasped and abruptly let go. “Any other demands?”
“You are not permitted to kiss me. No matter what. That is a part I do not wish to play.”
“Interesting.” His lips twitched upward. “Very well. So long as you never wish for me to do so, you have my word.”
I kept my focus on his eyes, refusing to glance lower, lest he get any sordid ideas. “Good. We’re all settled, then.” I wrapped my cloak around me and peered down the empty deck. “I’ll meet you after breakfast for—what is it? Why are you shaking your head?”
“We have four days left before the grand finale, Miss Wadsworth.” He held his arm out. “Your first lesson begins tonight.”
When Mephistopheles waltzed into the practice room, a swagger in his stride and a crooked curve upon his lips, chatter slowed, then promptly died down. Knife throwers paused in their target practice; trapeze artists sat upon their swings; all attention turned to their ringmaster. And me. Most truthfully, their gazes were locked upon my hand on his arm. The one I moved ever so slightly upward at his whispered insistence. I had not forgotten what Liza had said about him never showing up to these practices. It was another deliberate move on his part, one containing the most impact.
“See?” He leaned closer, the heat of his breath on my neck. “Look at the way they’re sizing you up, wondering how you earned my favor and how they might wrest it away from you. You, my dear, are now a threat. And a prize.” As if just noticing the quietness of the room, he tore his gaze from mine. I wondered at how authentic he made it appear when I knew it was only another act. “If you’d like a shot at performing this week, I suggest you keep practicing.”
Everyone began running through their routines, well, everyone except for Cassie, the trapeze artist; the Empress. She sat high above us, watching from behind her mask as Mephistopheles guided me to a table and pulled a chair out for me. Once I’d arranged my skirts, he dragged another chair around until our legs almost touched. I batted my lashes, but dropped my voice. “Watch yourself, sir. I’d hate to kick you by accident.”
“You asked me not to kiss you, Miss Wadsworth,” he said, the smile growing larger, “you never mentioned touching in your stipulation. Better luck next time. Now, then. Let’s run through the basics.” He pulled a deck of cards from his suit and placed them in my palm, his hands lingering. “First, you’ll need to hold your cards properly in order to cut them one-handed.”
He adjusted them until they fit lengthwise in my palm.
“This is how dealers hold their cards. For our purposes, you’ll start like this and shift them up toward your fingertips.” He moved the cards from my palm to my fingertips, keeping them in the same position. With clinical efficiency, he drew my pinkie down to the bottom of the deck, securing it comfortably in my grip. “Good. This allows you enough space to cut the deck between your fingers and palm, plus you now have better command over it.”
I shifted the deck around, trying to get a better feel for it. “How do I cut the deck with only one hand? It feels like I might drop a few cards if I move.”
“Ah, excellent observation.” Mephistopheles gently tapped my index finger and then my pinkie. “These two fingers will be what actually hold the cards in place. It takes some getting used to, but once you practice enough, you’ll find that your thumb is free to flip the cards, and your ring and middle digits assist with cutting the deck in half and rotating them. Here, allow me.”
Forgetting about the eyes I still felt boring into us, I leaned in. He pressed the top half of the deck with his thumb, allowing it to drop open in the middle, as if it were a yawning mouth. Next, his index finger came off the top as the bottom portion slid into a ninety-degree angle, forming an L shape with the cards. Both his middle and ring fingers loosed the upper deck as his index finger pushed the lower half forward, completing the shuffle. My eyes crossed.
“The mechanics of it are quite complicated,” I said, watching as he repeated the steps much faster. “You make it appear so easy.”
“Once you get the movements down, it’s simple body memory.” He handed me the playing cards. “You won’t even have to think of what you’re doing, it’ll come naturally.”
It wasn’t dissimilar to some of my forensic practices becoming body memory. I set my attention on the cards in my hand and slowly, painfully, went through the motions. I’d gotten to the part where I cut the deck in two, permitting myself a whoop of accomplishment, when the cards dropped out of my grasp and littered the table and floor. I cursed, one of my more colorful offerings, and the ringmaster threw his head back and laughed.
I glared. “I’m glad my suffering is such a joyful experience for you.”
Still laughing, he retrieved the cards and handed them over. “You’re taking this quite seriously. It’s only mag
ic, Miss Wadsworth. It’s supposed to be fun.”
I tried a few more times, ending with mostly the same horrendous results. The cards slipped from my gloved grasp, I swore in foul ways, and Mephistopheles practically wheezed with delight. I hated him.
Just when I thought I might march over to Jian Yu and steal one of his knives to slash apart the cards, an accented voice calmly asked, “May I show you another trick?”
I twisted in my seat, eyeing up the performer brave enough to interrupt and recognized him from Liza’s earlier introductions. Andreas, whose tarot card counterpart was the Fool. His hair and skin were nearly the same pale shade—a blond close to white. Constellations dotted his velvet suit jacket, another not-so-subtle ode to the Moonlight Carnival.
Mephistopheles raised a brow. “Andreas. This is Miss Wadsworth, my newest protégé. We’re finding where her talents are best put to use for the grand finale. Miss Wadsworth, this meddlesome creature is Andreas.” I hid my surprise when the ringmaster pushed back from the table and offered his seat. With a lingering look at me that might singe someone with its heat, he bowed. “Excuse me. I’ll go find us some champagne.”
Remembering my role, I sunk my teeth into my lower lip and watched the ringmaster pick his way through the performers. I hoped my expression appeared like longing and not constipation. When he’d made it halfway across the large room, he paused, as if he’d forgotten something. He pivoted slowly on one heel, halting once he faced me again. Grinning, he blew a kiss in my direction and then continued on his way.
This time the flush in my face wasn’t faked.
Andreas cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. Which made for two of us. I shook myself out of my mortification and forced my attention on the young man before me. It was time to get to work on my part of the bargain.
“What magic do you have to show me?” I asked, trying to sound as interested as possible. “More card tricks?”
A smile twitched across his lips. Unlike Mephistopheles, there was no trouble or heat behind it. If anything, he appeared quite shy. My mind immediately churned with suspicion.
“It was the first trick I did well and it’s not difficult to learn.” He held a playing card up with one hand, a Queen of Hearts. With his other hand, he flicked the card, and before my very eyes, I now stared at the King of Spades. I blinked. “It’s called a snap change. Mephistopheles says ‘trick the eyes, convince the mind.’ What you need is two cards, and you hold them right over each other.”
I nearly groaned. “Every time one of you claims something is easy, I’ll know you’re lying. How on earth is this simple?”
His smile deepened, revealing a dimple. “My Liesel used to say something very similar. She hated card tricks, but she loved this one.” He repeated it and I still couldn’t identify the trick. “Place the two cards on top of each other. Then all you need to use are your thumb, index, and middle fingers. The middle finger pulls the top card under, revealing the back card. The flick is the misdirection. There’s something about an audible distraction that tears attention away for that one critical moment.”
He did it a few more times, moving slow enough for me to pick up on the mechanics. Basically, the front card slid underneath the other and rested between the thumb and middle finger, hidden from view by the second card. There wasn’t anything simple about the trick, but it was easier for me to attempt—more like a snapping motion. Andreas handed me the cards and watched as I fumbled along. I wasn’t sure how my mastering a card trick would lend authenticity to the Moonlight Carnival, but it was fun, and my true goal of learning about the performers was being met, so I continued to practice.
“What does Liesel do for the carnival?” I asked, attention straying to him. “Is that how the two of you met?”
He shuffled the deck, removed two more cards, and continued demonstrating the trick while I mimicked him. “No, she didn’t work for the circus. Mephistopheles had sent me into a village in Germany one day for roses. I took one look at her and knew I was forever lost. She actually gifted me with the looking glass I use for my divinations.”
“Are you two married?”
Sadness descended into his shoulders, weighing them down. “Betrothed. Were betrothed. My Liesel… she passed away.”
My thoughts flashed to Thomas. I could not fathom carrying on without him and saw a different sort of strength in Andreas when I looked upon him now. “I—I’m so very sorry for your loss.” I wanted to ask how, but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.
He absently flicked the cards, snapping one over the other in rapid succession. “Jian tells me it gets easier, though I’m not certain that sort of loss ever fades away.”
I set my own cards down. “Has Jian lost someone he loves as well?”
Andreas glanced over at his friend, unblinking as Jian practiced his sword tricks. “His entire family. They were murdered. The swords?” He nodded as Jian hefted one and sliced through a stack of wood. “I think he imagines using them on the men who did it.”
“How… do you know any details?”
Andreas’s gaze darted around. “Only that soldiers stormed his village while he was away. They killed everyone and burned their houses. When he returned it was to charred bodies and smoking ashes. There are rumors that he hunted them down and slit their throats while they made camp, but I don’t think that’s true. He took up practicing with blades after their deaths—he didn’t want to be unable to defend anyone again.”
“Dear God in heaven,” I said, feeling as though I’d been kicked in my center. “That’s horrid. How—”
“—did it get to be so late?” Mephistopheles appeared in my line of vision, holding a pocket watch up to his masked face. “I believe it’s time for us to say good night. You have an early morning lesson and you need your beauty rest.”
I was too saddened by Jian’s history to form annoyance at the snipe. I stole one last glance at Jian before standing. I made to leave when Andreas jumped up. “Don’t forget your cards, miss. You’ll need to practice as often as possible. We all do.”
I smiled and accepted the playing cards. Mephistopheles paraded us out in front of all the performers, his hand never leaving the small of my back. Once we’d made it to the darkened corridor, he stopped and removed a letter from his jacket. “Here. Houdini had started writing this before the manufactured accident.”
“Accident? What do you mean…” I opened it up, brows raised. “Most of it’s covered in ink!”
“I know.” He grinned. “You ought to have seen him carry on about how clumsy I was after I bumped into him. Thought for certain he might have gutted me right there if he could’ve.” He leaned over my shoulder, tracing the opening line. “‘To my dearest’…”
I batted him away. “I can read, thank you.” I scanned what remained of the ink-splattered letter, stomach clenching.
It was as he’d said: Houdini loved another. I longed to crumple the paper but tucked it into my bodice instead. On the surface my bargain might have appeared to benefit Mephistopheles more, but I suddenly felt much better about protecting Liza from Harry Houdini and his lies.
Acrobat
THIRTEEN
ACE OF WANDS
MOONLIGHT CARNIVAL PRACTICE ROOM
RMS ETRURIA
4 JANUARY 1889
“Like this?” I asked, looping my legs over the bar. Even with the safety net below I did not feel an ounce of comfort. And I didn’t think my costume—a mere boneless frost-blue corset and thick white stockings—was entirely to blame. Though I was slightly concerned the added weight of the excessive beading might ensure my death should I fall.
Cassie snorted, but didn’t make fun. “You’ll only swing back and forth. With your legs hooked over the bar, you’ll be able to grip it tightly enough that you won’t fall.” She held the bar steady, brown eyes fixed to mine, not in challenge but curiosity. “Don’t worry, this isn’t what your role in the finale is going to be. This is just for fun.”
I
seriously questioned their idea of a good time. Swinging from a tiny little bar more than twenty feet in the air seemed like certain death. How she managed it in beaded costumes with long trains was either a miracle or magic or both.
Sebastián swung over from his side of the practice room, legs over the bar and arms extended outward, a wide grin on his face. As if he weren’t already talented enough with his contortions, now he was doing them in the sky. “Easy, see? All you have to do is let go.”
“You’re all mad,” I muttered under my breath. “Absolutely mad.”
“Normal is overrated.” Cassie nudged me toward the bar. “Extraordinary is unforgettable.” I took the bar in my hand, but the Empress quickly stopped me. She clapped my hands with a strange white substance that felt both sticky and chalky. “Resin. It helps with your grip.”
“I thought I was only using my legs for this?”
“Yes, well”—Cassie turned me about, placing my hands on the bar—“you need to hold on and then loop your legs through, right?”
I’d much sooner prance naked on the prow and sing a bawdy-house song.
“Everything all right up there?” Mephistopheles yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Practice is almost over. Guests will be heading out for breakfast soon, and we must deposit Miss Wadsworth in her chambers before anyone notices her absence.”
I shot him a dirty look that he probably missed, since I was higher than a building. “Nuisance. I’d like to see him swing on the trapeze.”
Cassie laughed. “Don’t challenge him. He’ll do it, and if he breaks his neck, then we’re all out of a job. And I need the money.”
I took the bar in my hands, ignoring the dampness that seemed to seep through the resin powder. “Are you saving for something?”
She adjusted my grip and demonstrated how to bring my legs up and over, ignoring my question. My stomach flipped. “No… I…” She heaved a breath out. “I made unwise choices and may owe a bit of money to people.”
Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3) Page 12
