Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  It did not go unnoticed that he hadn’t confirmed where Nightsblade was. “Would it be all right if I had a look down there?”

  He didn’t answer at first, expression calculating. “What does this have to do with the murdered women?”

  “It has to do with the severed limb, actually.” I had the impression that if I strayed too far from the truth, he’d unravel each of my lies. “I have a suspicion that they’re connected.”

  “Very well.” He sat on a stool in front of his makeshift workbench, picking up a few bottles filled with clear liquid and dark powders and setting them in a row. “You may investigate anything having to do with the carnival. Though I warn you, not all the performers will take kindly to having their things snooped through. You may want to go alone and not get caught.” He smiled shyly. “I’d offer to accompany you, but I have a bit of work to do before tonight’s show. If I can sneak away for a moment, I will.” At my raised brow he motioned to the corked bottles. “Dragon fire. Though it’s not for tonight’s performance. I’ll tend to that once you’re gone.”

  “Is it the new Houdini act you were going to show me last night?” I tried not to let my relief show that I’d be alone in my search. I wasn’t sure we’d have another interruption should he lean in for a kiss. “Any hints about what you’re working on?”

  His grin was full and wide. “Something spectacular.”

  I wound my way down and around labyrinthine halls of twisted metal and matte bolts, noticing how empty certain parts of the ship were compared to others. Silence was never complete, though. Some vibration or dull movement could always be heard as well as felt, whether by my fingers trailing over the walls or through the soles of my silken shoes. The ship was alive with constant movement, its engines guzzling energy to exhale steam or its auxiliary sails throwing their arms wide to tame the wind. It was like a metal dragon, flying low over the sea. I shoved those thoughts away and focused on my surroundings.

  These narrow corridors were used by the crew, hidden and dark, wedged into the heart of the Etruria. Doors were spaced fairly evenly, leading to servant cabins or storage, I wasn’t sure. My skirts swished as loudly as the blood pulsing through my veins while I turned into another dimly lit corridor. I hoped to avoid running into anyone—though the captain had informed the staff of our investigation, I did not wish to be seen.

  Hollow sounds of dishes clinking and smothered voices bounced around the hallway. I hurried along, not pausing to listen. According to the directions Mephistopheles had given me, I was almost upon the room where the swords were kept. Footsteps suddenly clomped from around the corner, slow and steady. Whoever marched toward me was unlikely to be one of the rushing crew. Which meant it was probably a carnival performer.

  I glanced around, heart near bursting as I took in few hiding options, then rushed to the nearest door. I rattled the handle, but it was locked. I raced to the next, keeping one ear turned to the footsteps that were getting closer. Another locked door.

  “Merciful God above,” I cursed. Of all the rotten luck in the world. I tried the handle on a third door and nearly dropped to my knees in supplication as it opened. A shadow bent around the corner, and right before its owner followed, I slipped into the darkened room, sealing the door shut with a subtle click.

  “Room” was a generous term. I’d had either the luck or sheer misfortune of ending up in a very tiny, very crowded broom closet. Sticks and poles poked my back, bruised my limbs, and fought to regain their space. I stood very still, praying that nothing would clatter to the ground. The sharp scent of cleanser bit at my nose, dust motes joining in the brawl. A bucket filled with liquid sloshed over the sides, the astringent dampening my shoes.

  I felt a sneeze coming on and vowed to every saint I’d ever heard of to defuse the blasted thing before it gave my position away. Aunt Amelia would quirk a brow, claiming it was the sinner’s curse and attending services a bit more would prevent things such as this.

  I pinched my lips together, as if I could keep the sneeze in by force of will alone, my eyes pricking with tears. Whoever had been coming down the hall had slowed. I pressed my ear to the door, listening. Someone was testing the handles of doors.

  I fought the urge to bang my head against the metal. The sneeze seemed to release me from its imminent arrival, allowing my shoulders to sag. Relief was short-lived. Before I could hold it in, I sneezed, the sound loud and unmistakable.

  “Gesundheit.”

  I began to say thank you, then froze. The person who I’d been hiding from wrenched the door open, stepped inside, and closed it as swiftly. For a moment I was stunned; the closet was barely large enough for me, and now with…

  “Cresswell? What in the name of the queen are you doing?”

  Though I couldn’t see it, I swore I could feel him smile. “Following you into dark, abandoned corners, of course. What else ought I be doing? Your uncle’s inspecting the severed limb. Again. After calling on Dr. Arden without luck, I stopped by your cabin, but Liza told me you’d gone to walk the third-class decks.” I felt him shrug. “I tried to get your attention, but you practically ran into the stairwell.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Following me into the closet doesn’t seem like your best idea.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” he asked. Before I could respond, he gently pressed his lips to mine. An ember of desire caught flame. Suddenly, being alone with him in a dark, forgotten place was much more appealing. I pushed my near kiss with the ringmaster from my mind. Nothing could ever compare to this. Mephistopheles was simply an illusion. Thomas was the real thing. “See? It was a brilliant plan.”

  I sighed. He was correct, but wanting to kiss him and needing to use our time wisely were two things that needed to remain separate for now. Then there was the matter of my almost-kiss with Mephistopheles that we needed to discuss. Eventually. Thomas might not be so eager for stolen embraces after I told him about that.

  I laid a hand against his chest, stalling any more kissing. “Jian’s swords are kept in the next room. I’m hoping if they were used in any of the attacks there will be evidence on them. The severed arm was nicked quite badly, there must be signs of it still on the weapon used. If we want to investigate, we need to hurry. The performers will be getting ready to practice for the finale soon.”

  “You’ve been busy this morning.” Thomas opened the door, then rubbed his hands together. “How do you know when they practice? Have you managed to single-handedly charm the carnival?”

  A twinge of regret twisted my core. I wanted to tell him about my excursion with the ringmaster and of our wretched bargain, but that required time to reveal my whole plan. And time was something we were woefully short on. Instead of opening more avenues of discussion, I smiled demurely. “Perhaps.”

  “Swords, secrets, and stolen kisses.” His eyes flashed with delight. “You speak the language of my complicated heart, Wadsworth. I am a very lucky man.”

  I hoped he would still believe that once I’d confessed my morning activities in full. “Come on, Cresswell. We’ve got a chamber to investigate.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  WEB OF ILLUSIONS

  CARNIVAL STORAGE CHAMBER

  RMS ETRURIA

  6 JANUARY 1889

  Thomas and I entered the storage chamber with great caution—not uttering a single word or breathing too deeply until we were certain of being alone. The room was large—cavernous, really—and painted the steel gray of a battleship. Edison bulbs hung from intervals in the ceiling, buzzing with power when Thomas flicked them on.

  There was no denying how eerie it was. No animals paced in cages, but I could have sworn I felt eyes on my back as I slowly crept down aisles of stacked trunks, all various shapes and sizes and colors. I didn’t see any indication of which trunk belonged to which performer or act, and was grateful for the description Mephistopheles had given me. If not for that, we could spend the remainder of our trip opening each one.

  “We’re looking for a trunk that’s
lapis with mosaic tiles,” I whispered over my shoulder. “There will be more than one.” Thomas was quiet a moment. I turned, expecting to find him distracted by something, surprised when I saw he was no longer following me. “What is it?”

  He shook himself out of whatever thoughts had grasped him. “Look around, Wadsworth. There are trunks upon trunks upon trunks.”

  I worried that the lack of sleep was making him a bit dull. “Yes, not completely unexpected in a storage unit.”

  “I mean there are numerous places to hide evidence… and bodies.” He ran his hand over the closest trunk. A lacquered black so shiny I could almost see our reflections in it. “And this is simply one room. Think of how many more there are on this ship. If the murderer has begun dismembering bodies, then he or she doesn’t have to be tossing them overboard. They can be safely tucked away, then discarded along the road to their next destination.” He patted the side of the trunk. “The bodies wouldn’t even need to be placed in large coffin-sized trunks, either. If in pieces, they could fit anywhere. For all we know, we might be standing in a veritable graveyard this very moment. The captain claims to have had the upper decks thoroughly scoured, and we’ve yet to find the rest of the body the arm belongs to.”

  Chills dragged their nails down my back and over my arms. A light bulb above flickered, attracting a stowaway moth that repeatedly thrashed itself against the light. Corpses did not trouble me; the men who made them did. “Let’s hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  We rushed down one aisle, then the next, scanning each trunk. At the end of one wide passage I noticed a rather large upright box, covered with a dark cloth. It was much larger than a coffin, perhaps double the size—it was something to investigate another time.

  “We ought to split up,” I said. “We’ll cover more ground that way, and faster, too.”

  Thomas nodded and veered off to the aisle next to mine. I hated being this far at the back of the room—it made it nearly impossible to hear if someone had entered. Anyone might be lurking in one of the aisles, waiting to spring a trap. I was just starting down the next aisle when Thomas called out.

  “I believe I’ve found it,” he said. “Come have a look.”

  I ran around to where he was hunched over a long trunk. It was even more beautiful than I’d pictured. The blue was striking against the tiles that reflected like broken bits of looking glass. I bent down, noticing the locks on either end. I reached for my hatpin, then halted when Thomas clicked it open. He caught my stare and grinned. “Mephistopheles and Houdini aren’t the only ones in possession of tricks. You ought to see what I can do with my—”

  “Miss Wadsworth,” Mephistopheles said from the end of the aisle, startling me away from Thomas. “I see you missed me so much you’ve brought a stand-in.” He turned to Thomas, frowning. His attention dropped to the open trunk at our feet. “This chamber is off-limits to outsiders. I was just making sure she’d found her way safely here.”

  “Is that how you knew what time the performers were practicing?” Thomas asked, his tone neutral. “You were with him this morning?”

  My voice suddenly seemed to disappear. I wet my lips, pulse speeding. “Yes…”

  “One should always honor a lady’s choice.” Mephistopheles grinned. “You may run along now, Mr. Cresswell. I’ll escort our lady back to her cabin soon enough.”

  Thomas was the picture of restraint as he ignored the ringmaster and instead met my gaze. I did not want him to go, nor did I want him to feel brushed aside for the ringmaster again. But if we were to solve this crime, I’d need to listen to my head and hope my heart would withstand the pain.

  Caught between the two, I did what needed to be done for the greater good of our investigation.

  Though it pained me to do so, I took a step toward Mephistopheles. I’d hoped Thomas would’ve deduced the truth, but a look of hurt flashed in his eyes. He jerked his head in an imitation of a nod. My heart wrenched.

  “Very well. We’ll finish our discussion later, Wadsworth.”

  He eyed the ringmaster another moment, then strode out the door, shoulders stiff and hands clenched. I stood there, unmoving, wondering if I’d just unintentionally changed my future. Fate was a fickle thing.

  “Such a pity,” Mephistopheles said. “You’re going to break his heart. Though it will be amusing to watch him cut himself against the blade of your indecision.”

  I counted to five, hoping to regain my composure. “Is that so? Would you like to know what I think of you?”

  “Enlighten me.” He nodded. “It ought to be amusing.”

  “You’re arrogant, deceitful, and think too highly of your own wit.” I ticked off each detriment on my fingers. “Shall I go on?”

  He drew his brows together, looking genuinely baffled. “You forgot the most important attributes: handsome and well dressed. When was the last time you saw a tailcoat this sharp?”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I’m honest.” He smiled. “You’re simply annoyed that you do enjoy my company. I make you think, broaden your scientific theories and ideas. I get under your skin and you loathe it.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, nodding, “you do get under my skin. Like a scalpel.”

  “Which means I’m smooth and cool as a blade.” Mephistopheles lifted a shoulder. “Should we grab some tea and discuss more of my appealing qualities? Or should we skip straight to the kissing? I must admit, I’ve been dreaming of our almost-kiss nonstop. Next time I see Houdini, I’m going to drown him. Though maybe you’ve found other ways of occupying yourself. I’ll grant you this: Cresswell is handsome, though I still edge him out there. It’s my dark, brooding looks. He also can’t compete with the mask.”

  “Honestly?” I rubbed my temples. “You’re the most maddening person I’ve ever encountered.”

  “Another distinguished honor.” He bowed deeply. “I’m sure Mr. Cresswell will be vexed by that declaration as well. Second place is, well, not first, is it? Though it’s something he’ll have to get used to, especially the more he’s around me. He might need some coddling to make it through. Poor chap. I’ll have to see if Isabella is up to the task. She’s mentioned him a few times now.”

  He watched me like a hawk might eye a potential meal. I silently counted to ten, but said nothing. Mephistopheles was trying to rile the truth out of me. But he’d need to do more than that. “You’re distracting me.”

  “A problem shared by most every woman—and some men—I meet.” The humor flicked out of his gaze as if a candle had been suddenly snuffed out. “I warned you about being caught down here, didn’t I? Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’d have caused if—damn it.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see what had ruffled him enough to swear. Andreas and Jian walked down the aisle, heads bent in hushed conversation. It was odd seeing them in regular trousers and shirts, their glittering costumes saved for the stage alone.

  Before I could take in any other details, Mephistopheles hurriedly wrapped an arm around me, dragged me close, then pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. I heard the scrape of wood against metal and realized the ringmaster was slowly moving the trunk of swords back into place, using our kiss as the sleight of hand.

  I shut my eyes and tried not to think of how pleasant his lips were—how soft and gentle, so at odds with his sharp-tongued swagger. A moment later Mephistopheles pulled back, his expression a combination of wicked delight along with a smattering of apology. I wondered if I appeared as startled and confused as the thoughts rushing through my head.

  He gave his performers a lazy grin, never taking his arm from my waist. Which was a good thing; I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t stumble away. He gently squeezed in warning. “A bit early for you two. As you can tell, I wasn’t expecting anyone down here for a while. Or shall I say we weren’t expecting anyone. I was giving Miss Wadsworth the grand tour.”

  “Is that what you were doing?” Jian asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his tone. “Touring the
supplies? I bet next time you’ll tour the toilets.”

  My cheeks flamed, but I didn’t dare to contradict him. Jian let his dark gaze fall to mine, and I could only guess at what he saw. Another foolish young thing caught up in Mephistopheles’s web of illusions? Or was he sizing me up as another victim to add to his list? My attention slid to Andreas, whose face was nearly as splotchy with color as Liza’s had been earlier. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed for me or for the indecent show the ringmaster and I had put on. Perhaps he was disappointed I’d ignored his tarot reading and hadn’t stayed away from the Magician.

  “Semantics.” Mephistopheles took my hand, making a grand show of escorting me out of there. “I expect you both in the saloon by eleven. Tonight’s show requires extra hands. And keep practicing what I showed you for the finale. We need to help these people forget murders and simply remember the Moonlight Carnival.”

  Without saying more, we left the performers to gather their things. As we entered the corridor, I thought about both young men, deciding that either one of them could be the murderer we sought. Andreas appeared quiet and shy, but in a group filled with wonder-workers, that might be his own illusion.

  “Well?” Mephistopheles said once we were well into the next corridor. “Did you at least find anything worthwhile, or was that a giant waste of time? Not that our kiss wasn’t worth the trouble. That was quite nice. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Depends on whether or not this belongs to you.” Thomas appeared from around the corner, holding a signet ring in his palm. A lion’s head surrounded by thorns with bloodred rubies set in its eyes. It was stunning. And its arrival certainly seemed to stun the ringmaster; he went very still. I didn’t believe his reaction was from the surprise appearance of my friend. “Strange that your swordsman would keep this in his trunk. Stranger still that you sent Miss Wadsworth directly to it, then followed her there.” Mephistopheles appeared as if he would tackle Thomas to the ground in order to retrieve it, but managed to remain in place. “This is your family crest, it is not? Or is it another stolen identity that you’ve taken on?”