“The Magician,” Andreas said, never taking his attention off the card, “is the outcome most likely in your future. Beware of making bargains you cannot keep, though. The Devil is a trickster in us all. He often makes you believe one thing, while covering the truth in plain sight.” Chills caressed my body at those words, so similar to my earlier thoughts. Andreas bit his lip, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. “Be cautious with who you give your heart to. And be even more wary of those who seek to steal it.”
NINETEEN
A SEVERED CONNECTION
PROMENADE
RMS ETRURIA
5 JANUARY 1889
Thomas leaned against the wall opposite the music room, finishing off the last bit of his fried pastry. He grinned when he spied me lingering outside the fortune-teller’s makeshift “tent” and held up a second sugar-coated pastry.
“I swear I was going to rescue you from the Amazing Andreas… once I finished my sweet dough. Here”—he handed my treat over—“tell me this isn’t the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted. Aside from me, naturally.”
I huffed a laugh. Thomas was a scoundrel and a horrendous flirt, but I couldn’t deny enjoying it. Despite the unease swirling through my system at the sight of the Magician card and the revelation of how many performers were skilled with tarot, I popped a piece of fried dough into my mouth and nearly groaned. It truly was one of the most delicious things I’d ever eaten.
“Do I even want to know how much butter they used to make it taste that good?”
“Hmm.” Thomas pretended to think on it a moment. “Probably not, Wadsworth. And you most certainly don’t wish to know how much sugar they sprinkled onto it once it came out of its butter bath.” He offered his arm and we slowly made our way toward the saloon. “Did Andreas gift you with an amazing glimpse at your future? I hear his magic looking glass is all the rage. A young woman was speaking very loudly about her future husband. Apparently she saw his reflection in the glass and wasn’t pleased.”
I offered him a bemused look, but didn’t comment.
“I’m taking it that you’re stunned into silence by how adorable our children are. I bet they take after me the most. My Cresswell genes are quite impressive. Though you will make fine little ones yourself.” He patted my hand lovingly. “Try not to be too hard on yourself, though. We cannot help who is the fairest of us.”
I stopped walking, mouth dropping open. “Our children?”
Thomas cocked his head. “You know… smaller-sized humans who spit up on things and require an indecent amount of attention until they’re grown? I imagine we’ll have an entire brood of them.”
“You can’t be serious, I—”
Mephistopheles strode down the corridor with Jian and Anishaa, lips twitching into his signature smirk when he glanced up and noticed us. He broke away from the performers and shook a few eager hands of passengers as he drew near. I silently prayed he wouldn’t mention our dancing last night.
“What a fortunate surprise, Miss Wadsworth.” He took my hand in his, pretending to kiss it, and pulled an ink-blue rose from the air. “A rose for the lovely Audrey Rose.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Thomas said. “Satan has decided to claw his way out of Hell and join us. I had no idea he did subpar tricks, though.”
The ringmaster turned his attention on my companion as if noticing him for the first time. “Satan. The Devil. Prince of the Underworld. Let’s not forget that Lucifer was a fallen angel—I imagine he was quite handsome. If the role fits…” Mephistopheles shrugged. “Anyway, it’s always interesting to see you again, Mr. Cresswell, but if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with your”—he purposely stared down at my empty ring finger—“friend, isn’t it?” Mephistopheles didn’t smile again, but satisfaction oozed off him when Thomas clenched his jaw. “Don’t worry. I’ll return her to you shortly. If she cares to return, that is.”
Thomas stood there, fingers tapping his sides. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for my refusal or considering how angry Uncle would be if he discovered I’d wandered off unchaperoned with someone he didn’t approve of. I glanced at Mephistopheles and bit my lip. I didn’t wish to abandon Thomas, but something large must have happened for the ringmaster to want to talk before our scheduled meeting. I took a step in his direction, then stopped.
Thomas inhaled deeply. “If I come across your uncle, I’ll tell him you needed a bit more time to get ready. Meet me outside your cabin in half an hour.”
“Thomas.” I made to reach for him, but dropped my arm. “Thank you.”
“Thanking me is unnecessary.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, unconcerned with our scowling audience. “You are always free to do as you please. Even if you choose to follow a strange man in a gaudy suit into the bowels of a steam cruiser while someone in his show is murdering women.” Delight flashed in his eyes when the ringmaster exhaled loudly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“If my suit is so gaudy then why are you staring at it like it’s your one true love?”
“Thomas,” I warned. “Do not comment on his jacket. He missed his evening nap and is cranky.”
“Yes, well, there was only one spot available in the nursery and I thought Mr. Cresswell should take it.”
I hid my smile as Thomas stared down the ringmaster like he was a reanimated corpse.
“Miss Wadsworth?” Mephistopheles asked, tone lacking any decorum or patience. “Shall we?”
He offered his arm, but I ignored it and hauled off toward the promenade deck without assistance. I was already in a rotten mood thanks to the tarot reading, and now the sudden appearance of Mephistopheles, the Devil himself, turned my disposition even more sour. Confused over my feelings indeed. I’d show Andreas how faulty his cards were.
Once we made it to the end of the deck free from passengers and performers alike, I whirled on him. “You’re trying to irk Thomas and it’s not fair to me. When I agreed to help you it was also supposed to benefit me, remember? This”—I motioned between us—“is not beneficial. What is so important that you require my assistance this moment? You seemed to be having fun with Jian and Anishaa, not searching for me.”
“Not here.” Mephistopheles pointed toward the corridor leading a few floors below. I tried to hide my shiver as we entered the dimly lit hall and walked swiftly down the flight of narrow stairs. Our footsteps echoed along the metal stairs, alerting anyone below of our arrival. I wanted to ask about the playing cards and how cartomancy might play into the killings, but didn’t wish to do so when we were so far from other people.
We came to the end of the stairwell, and I was amazed when it opened into a vast storage space that must have taken up at least a quarter of the entire hull. Cage after cage of iron bars and exotic animals lined each side of the cavernous room. Monkeys and tigers, lions, elephants, and wolves whiter than snow. I paused near the zebras, admiring their contrasting colors.
“Well?” I faced the ringmaster, hands on my hips. “What urgent matter do you have?”
Standing there alone with him, I tried not to think about last evening, his hands on my waist, laughing like I was some other person as he twirled me around. How free I’d felt for a moment.
“I’ve noticed you haven’t given Liza the letter yet.” He ran his gloved hands down the side of one cage, inspecting them before brushing them off. “Would you prefer if I did it? Then you might act as if your hands aren’t stained in the nastiness of the matter.”
“Is this why you wanted to talk?” I bristled at his tone. “How is opening someone’s eyes to the truth a terrible thing?”
He stopped walking down the line of cages, facing me. “Sometimes we choose not to see things we know are true, simply because we wish to keep the fantasy of what could have been alive. To see the realness of a thing, well, sometimes that removes hope. An unfortunate side effect. As a scientist you must know that. You cannot always remove a tumor without taking a bit of the surrounding healthy tissues, can you?”
&nb
sp; I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, I do not require your assistance. And I don’t wish to wax poetic on how speaking the truth is like removing a tumor, or any other such nonsense. Was there anything else you needed, or did you only intend to irritate me?”
“You anger rather quickly,” he said. “I enjoy chaos, remember? I like studying reactions. You weren’t so quick to be rid of me last night.”
A flush crept along my skin.
“Any other parting words of wisdom, or might I go back to the carnival?”
Mephistopheles marched up to the lion’s cage, a muscle in his jaw twitching in annoyance. “Apologies for interrupting your romantic evening, Miss Wadsworth. But I thought you might want to see what I discovered before I alert the overbearing captain.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the cage. Judging from the strong earthy scent hanging in the air, the hay had been freshly changed.
I doubted he’d dragged me down here to see that, so I carefully leaned closer and jerked back. There were splatters of blood on the floor of the cage. But that couldn’t be right. I inhaled deeply, and exhaled. There was a logical explanation waiting, I simply needed to think like a scientist.
“Don’t you feed the lions fresh meat?” I asked. My brain refused to acknowledge what my eyes were reporting as truth—the basis for all good illusions. “I’m sure it’s simply—”
“The severed limb that’s to blame?” He pointed to something I’d not noticed at first; it was stiff and protruding from the hay. I closed my eyes briefly and cursed.
A pale arm gnawed to the bone at one end.
Unless it was a very detailed prop for the carnival, it was all too real. No illusion or trick. “Yes, I’m quite sure that does explain all the blood. How silly of me to require your assistance with sorting that out.”
I shot him an irritated look. “Don’t be cross with me. I’m not the one trying to destroy your carnival. Perhaps you should have thought of these consequences before carrying on a flirtation with a married woman.”
“My carnival is in peril and there’s a severed arm in front of you, yet you’d like to discuss my sleeping arrangements?”
“When they might be the cause of said issues? Yes.”
I pushed past him, noting the shock on his face, and edged around the back of the cage, trying to get a better view of the arm. With the freshly laid hay, it was difficult to tell if someone had been killed in the cage or if the arm had simply been tossed in after.
“You need to have the lion removed from there immediately,” I said. “This whole cage needs to be secured and scoured for clues.”
I inspected the lion. It was impossible to tell how much of the body he’d consumed—perhaps it was just the one arm, meant to distract us. The large cat lazily washed himself, licking his paws, then dragging them behind his ears in a contented way only a full belly could provide. My own stomach flipped at the implication of such actions. Tonight had been so close to ending without another death.
“Shouldn’t this animal be with the others for the show?”
Mephistopheles stepped closer. “It appears he’s too full to be of use. Which is probably why he was left behind.”
“That means this was deposited prior to the show.”
I swallowed my revulsion down. I could not allow my emotions to surface now—perhaps not ever. I’d witnessed a lot in my uncle’s laboratory—cruelty almost too violent to be believed. But this? This was an entirely new level of horrific. To toss someone to an animal to feed upon… it was monstrous.
“You need to summon my uncle,” I added, noting Mephistopheles hadn’t yet moved. “And Thomas. We need them. Someone is dead. Whoever did this is out to ruin your show—you better hope we can prove it’s Cassie and her husband, or you might be the one held responsible.”
“That is your best deduction?” Mephistopheles crossed his arms and scowled. It was hardly the sort of reaction I expected from anyone who’d stumbled across a dismembered piece of a body. If he was free of guilt, he was doing a terrible job of proving it. “Cassie and I, handsome though we might be together, were never lovers. She wanted to, but I declined. Mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea. Though I cannot tell if you’re simply curious for your own reasons. Perhaps you’re jealous.”
“Are you entirely mad? You wish I were jealous.”
He seemed to think on it. “Yes, actually, I do. Regardless of that, if I wanted to involve your uncle or that arrogant assistant of his immediately, I would have done so. What I want is for you to investigate first. Then I will fetch those two. I need discretion—the carnival cannot keep withstanding these blows. I’m doing everything I can to keep the acts going, to distract patrons, but even I cannot produce miracles. I need you to help me.”
“Thomas is my partner,” I argued. “We each have skills that complement the other’s.”
“And? Are you incapable of simply looking at something without either of them?”
We stared at each other, each holding our ground for an exaggerated moment. It was a battle of wills, and if I was selfish, I’d not surrender simply to spite him. Since there was a slain person involved, I took the higher ground.
“Fine,” I spat. “But someone needs to get that lion out of the cage now. I cannot properly investigate the scene and worry about being mauled by that beast.”
“Fine,” Mephistopheles echoed, brushing past me and snatching the ring of keys from a hook on the wall. “Glad to see there are things you’re able to do without assistance.”
He stuck the key in the lock and yanked the door open with a screech that made the big cat growl, low and dangerous. Apparently he wasn’t as full and docile as I’d thought.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Mephistopheles swiped a leash from the inside of the cage and held it up as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Removing the lion from the cage like you asked. Have you been drinking the Green Fairy again this evening? I thought that was our special thing.”
“Why are you the one getting the lion?” I ground out. “Shouldn’t you fetch an expert?”
With a disgusted grunt, the ringmaster turned his back on me and marched toward the lion. Now that I was looking closely, I could see bits of blood stained around its pale muzzle and fleshy parts near its whiskers. Mephistopheles either didn’t notice the gore or pretended it wasn’t there as he made his way toward the animal. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified as the large cat slowly put his paw down and eyed the intruder.
No matter how well trained the lion was, there was a part of him that would forever remain wild. The intelligent gleam in his golden eyes sent gooseflesh skittering along my body. The effect seemed lost on Mephistopheles entirely. He was moving a bit too boldly for his own good.
“Have a care, would you? You’re going to get yourself killed,” I said, drifting forward, “then I’ll have to sort out your blood and entrails from the victim’s.”
“If that happens, then consider it a test of your immeasurable skill.”
I took a steadying breath. “I will not watch this madness.”
“Sometimes, for the greater good,” he said over his shoulder, “it’s necessary to get your hands dirty. Do you trust me, Miss Wadsworth?”
Only a fool would put their faith in someone they didn’t know and who prided themselves on illusions. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”
Instead of responding, Mephistopheles snapped the leash like a whip, setting the other animals chittering in their cages. My gaze fell to the severed arm once more and I quickly looked away. The time would come soon enough to dissect that bloody fragment.
I moved forward, gripping the bars to give myself something to do other than fret as the ringmaster drew within reach of the lion. Unlike the quiet calm of the cat, my pulse was a constant roar I couldn’t settle. Dealing with the dismembered arm was horrendous, but bearing witness to an animal attack would be even worse.
Sensing the growing tensio
n, the lion sniffed the air, tufted tail twitching across the blood-splattered hay behind him. He was a coil ready to spring an attack at any moment. I clutched the bars until my knuckles ached.
“Be careful. Please.”
I’d whispered barely loud enough for me to hear, so I was surprised when the ringmaster stumbled over a clump of hay and glanced at me. Everything happened too quickly after that. The lion, already suspicious of the masked gentleman inside the cage, sprang up from its hindquarters. Mephistopheles jumped back, but he wasn’t fast enough. The lion swiped the front of his waistcoat, tearing the material with no effort. I could only imagine what those claws could do to bare flesh. If he didn’t escape soon, I was going to find out.
“Run!” I yelled. “Hurry!”
Mephistopheles fell, scrambling backward like a crab scuttling away. Without a doubt, he was going to die. My heart pounded a battle cry. I scanned the dimly lit chamber, searching for something to use against the lion. My attention fell on a cane—without thought, I grabbed it and raced for the side opposite Mephistopheles, running the cane across the bars, creating the most dreadful racket.
In my mind I fancied it a fabulous distraction, but reality was not my friend. The lion paid me no attention; he plodded forward, eyes never leaving his prey.
“Hey!” I smacked the bars now as if I were a cricket player. The result was a metallic clang that nearly rattled my teeth. This made the lion pause at least. I used all my strength to hit the bars again and again, the sound so loud it refused to be ignored. Finally, the lion turned its head, annoyance plain in the twitch of its tail. Both the big cat and the ringmaster stared dully at me, as if waiting for the next bang on the rungs. “Run, you bloody fool!”
Mephistopheles shook himself out of his stupor and got to his feet; he turned his back on the big cat and was nearly to the cage door when the animal whirled around and struck him a second time. I screamed, convinced I was going to see him torn limb from limb. The unexpected shrillness startled the lion—it wasn’t much, but it was enough for Mephistopheles to tumble out of the cage and kick the door shut.
Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3) Page 18
