Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  My medical deductions were slow in coming, but in and out of the blackness throbbing through me, I became aware that I was dying. That warm sensation rushing down my stocking was blood. And there was a lot of it. Too much for a person to lose.

  “Thomas…” My voice was barely a whisper, but he heard me. He gripped my hand tighter, and leaned in. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Never.” Something dripped onto my face, but I was too tired to open my eyes. My head felt as if I’d swallowed too much champagne too quickly and little white stars clustered around the edge of my vision. The more warmth I lay in, the colder my body became.

  It seemed like sweet justice, that a blade would be the end of me.

  “Wadsworth…” Thomas sounded as if someone held a knife to his throat, but the danger must be gone. The thought comforted me as I drifted off to sleep. A hand clapped my cheeks, slowly at first, then more steady. It should have stung, but I felt too far away. A beautiful dream was beginning—one where Thomas and I were waltzing around a ballroom that reminded me of a star. Everything was white and pure and smelled of peonies and magic.

  “Audrey Rose! Look at me.” Thomas’s face came into view, hovering above mine. He swore like the Devil, but in this moment he might have been an angel sent to guide me somewhere. His lips, no longer tinged blue, were moving, but sounds drowned out as waves of white and black crashed around my vision. I stared into his wide eyes. He was alive. He was whole. Death was not victorious. The thought carried me further into a peaceful nothingness.

  Words melted into one another and I could no sooner listen to Thomas than I could command my wound to stop bleeding. My pulse was a quiet refrain as the beat slowed. Warmth flowed freely around my body, dragging me further and further toward the promise of a blissful rest. I now had two pulses, each warring with the other. One in my leg and one in my chest. Both seemed to fade the more they fought. Which was all right by me; I wanted to drift off and succumb to the darkness. It was much more pleasant than the wild pain unleashing itself upon me. I wanted to fall back into that wonderful dream where we could dance amongst the stars.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  One moment there was euphoric calm, an acceptance of release; the next there was a pressure on my leg, heavy and uncomfortable. It jolted me from that serenity. I wanted to shriek again, to make the suffering go away, but I was too tired. I wriggled away from the pain, blinking up at whoever was torturing me, but my lids grew heavier, more unwilling to obey even as the beast of agony ripped into my body again and again.

  The pressure mounted and I finally managed to scream until I tasted blood in the back of my throat. Part of me knew I had to fight as viciously, had to try to live, if only to shove off the person inflicting the pain on my leg. I barreled my focus and squinted through the impending dark. Thomas’s hands were a vice on my bare thigh, tears dripping down his face onto mine. I had the impression of him shouting orders to someone nearby, though I couldn’t hear them or be sure. I was too fixated on his tears. In my mind I reached up to wipe them away, though it must have been another dream.

  I love you, I thought, rallying against the blackness. More than all the stars in the universe. In this life and ever after. I love you.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Thump.

  I battled and raged with everything I had for a final glimpse of my dearest Thomas Cresswell, but the darkness descended like a vengeful army and claimed me for good.

  FORTY

  FAREWELL

  INFIRMARY

  RMS ETRURIA

  9 JANUARY 1889

  Light streamed in from a window, pulling me from sleep. Gulls called to one another and muffled voices joined in from somewhere outside. The sharp scent of antiseptic made my stomach flip, taking the remainder of my peace. I blinked until the blurriness subsided. Cots and small tables came into view—I was in an infirmary.

  I gasped when Thomas leaned forward, his chair creaking as he shifted his weight. I hadn’t seen him sitting there, and now that I was looking, he appeared truly wretched. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes, his face paler than I’d ever seen it before. There was an aura of hollowness to him that made gooseflesh rise on my arms.

  I wondered if he’d seen a ghost.

  He reached over, clasping my hand in his, eyes red rimmed. “I thought…” He gripped my hand tighter. “I thought I’d lost you for good, Wadsworth. What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”

  Bits and pieces came back, though it all seemed too foggy to be real. “What happened?”

  Thomas drew in a deep breath. “Aside from you rushing to save me from certain death? Taking a knife precariously close to your femoral artery?” He shook his head, and this time there was nothing lighthearted in his face. “The blade went in so deeply it stuck to the bone, Audrey Rose. Your uncle was able to remove it while Mephistopheles and I held you down, but we cannot be certain how much of the bone was fractured. Thus far we don’t believe it’s shattered.”

  I winced, as if his story had given my wound permission to cry out once more. “Sounds as though you’ve all been busy. What day is it?”

  “You’ve been out for only one evening. We’ve reached port in New York.” Thomas drew lazy circles on the back of my hand, his voice a near whisper when it came out. “Andreas confessed to all.”

  “Even the body found in the crate?” I asked. “Did he explain why that victim was different from the others?” Thomas fiddled with the cuff on my dressing gown, doing a poor job of pretending he didn’t hear me. “Thomas? I’m all right. You don’t have to treat me as if I’m made of porcelain now.”

  “It’s not you.” He sighed. “When we asked Andreas about that crime, he claimed to have no knowledge of it. He’s in the brig until detective inspectors come to fetch him. They’re not sure where he’ll face trial yet, since most of his crimes occurred at sea. We may need to return to England.”

  “But why wouldn’t he have confessed to—”

  “Your uncle and I believe it’s possible there might have been a second killer on board,” Thomas said. “Passengers have already begun disembarking, so if Andreas didn’t commit that murder, then—”

  “Then we just delivered a Ripper-inspired murderer to America.”

  We both sat in silence, allowing the gravity of that possibility to settle around us.

  “For now,” Thomas finally said, “let’s hope we’re wrong and Andreas was simply feeling uncooperative.”

  I met his gaze and nodded. It seemed we’d allow ourselves one more half truth at this journey’s end.

  “Was he the one who stole the fabric?” I asked, remembering Jian’s waistcoat. “Or was it an unrelated crime?”

  “He admitted to stealing it—apparently he’s a petty thief when he’s not murdering for revenge. It’s an old habit he brought with him from Bavaria. He used to steal clothes from people he’d tell fortunes to. One woman recognized a missing garment and reported it to the police, which is why he left and joined the carnival.”

  “Speaking of that, what of the Moonlight Carnival? How are Mephistopheles and Houdini?”

  “They’ve both bid you farewell,” Thomas said, and I could see he was watching me carefully. “Mephistopheles sends his apologies—and two tickets to their next show, free of charge. He and Houdini said we won’t want to miss what they’re working on, it’s going to be—”

  “Spectacular?”

  Thomas snorted. “For their sake, I hope so. They’ve got to find something to distract from the multiple murders committed by their famed fortune-teller. Though knowing Mephisto, he’ll find a way to work with it. Infamy is a draw for most. We’re all fascinated by the macabre. Must be our dark, twisted human souls.”

  “I’m glad it’s over,” I said. “I sincerely hope the families are at peace.”

  Something else important slithered around the edges of my thoughts, but my mind was still so foggy.

  “Liza!” I wrenched myself up and collapsed back. Agon
y shot through my body, reminding me how injured I was. “Where is she? Is she all right? Please, please tell me she’s alive. I cannot bear it.”

  Thomas adjusted my pillows and gently pressed me back. “She’s all right. Andreas drugged her and had her chained in his rooms. But she’s recovering. Much faster than you.”

  I exhaled. “I’m not worried about me.”

  “But I am. There’s something else you should know… about your injury,” he said, slowly moving about his seat, eyes cast downward. “You’ll be able to walk, though it’s possible you’ll have a permanent limp. There’s no way of determining how it will heal.”

  The burning ache in my leg flared at the reminder of my injury. A limp. Though some may find their worlds destroyed by such news, I did not. My future would see me moving not across a ballroom floor but within a close laboratory. And corpses did not care how gracefully I walked.

  For my own benefit, I needed to lighten the mood. Things were far too glum, and regardless of how badly I’d been hurt, I needed something positive to cling to. I was alive. All other details would be worked out. I smiled to myself; I truly was sounding like Mephistopheles.

  “The price of love doesn’t come cheaply,” I teased. “But the cost is worth it.”

  Thomas abruptly stood, leaving my hands craving his warmth. I reexamined my joke, wondering which part of my statement had pierced him.

  “You ought to rest now,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “Your uncle will be in soon to discuss travel arrangements. And I know Liza has been stomping around outside, too.”

  “Thomas… what—”

  “Rest, Wadsworth. I’ll return again soon.”

  I pressed my lips together, not trusting my voice to conceal my hurt. I watched Thomas gather his hat and overcoat and hurry from the room, as if the sight of me now disturbed him. I tried not to take it personally, though a few tears managed to sneak past the dam I’d erected. It seemed Thomas Cresswell was disappearing from my life along with the carnival.

  Another presence in the room stirred me from sleep. I rubbed at my eyes, though I didn’t bother trying to sit up. “Thomas?”

  “No, my love. I’m the much-handsomer one. I blame the loss of blood for that slip.”

  Despite the amount of pain I was in, I grinned. “Thomas said you’d left with Houdini already.”

  “Yes, well, I made it halfway down the docks and figured you’d go mad with want.” Mephistopheles tentatively clasped my hands in his. They were rough and calloused in places, a testament to how often he worked with them. He ran his thumb over my knuckles, the movement calming. “I didn’t want you missing me so much that it affected your recovery.”

  I shook my head. “Always such a charmer.” I made to lean over the side of the bed and winced. “Open that drawer, would you?”

  “There’s not a snake inside, waiting to sink its fangs into me, is there?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I wouldn’t mind hanging on to your signet. The rubies would fetch a decent amount.”

  I’d never witnessed Mephistopheles move quite so fast, not even while performing his fancy tricks. He held the ring up, eyes misting before he blinked it away. “Thank you.”

  “How else will people blackmail you? Couldn’t have you running off without it.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled. “Promise you’ll miss me just a little?”

  “I might think of you one cold, dreary December, many, many years from now.”

  “And?” he prompted, expression hopeful.

  “And wonder if you bathe in your mask.”

  His chuckle was dark and deep. “No need to wonder, my dear. I’m more than willing to show you firsthand. Shall we go to my chamber or yours?” He eyed my bandages. “Perhaps we ought to delay our tryst. I wouldn’t want you bleeding all over this suit. It’s bad for business.”

  “I am going to miss you,” I said, because it was the truth. Something I hadn’t been acquainted with in a good, long while. Sleight of hand had been interesting to learn, but I was no good at playing that role long term. I wanted to offer nothing but honesty in the future. Pretending had not only confused me, but nearly hurt Thomas irrevocably.

  “I know. It’s my cross to bear that I am so incredibly irresistible.” Amusement left his eyes, replaced by something more uncertain. “Tell me… did I ever truly stand a chance at winning your hand? Or was everything between us a lie? The dancing, the laughter… surely it wasn’t all an act.”

  I stared into his dark gaze, pulse picking up as I imagined a different sort of future. One that still included science and freedom. Passion and theatrics. In that future I could be happy, more than happy. We’d use science to build impossible machines and magic, dazzling crowds and earning praise. I could travel the world and never settle into a role society deemed appropriate. Mephistopheles would make a wonderful husband—never chaining me up unless it was for the stage. I could be very content in that future. I would be more free than the acrobats soaring from one trapeze to the next.

  But my heart and soul would always belong to another more fully. Thomas and I were partners in every way. And while imagining life without the magic and easy smiles of Mephistopheles was a little sad, thinking of a world without Thomas Cresswell was unbearable. I could no more walk away from him than I could abandon my heart and still live.

  I leaned over and pressed my lips to Mephistopheles’s cheek. “In another world, or another life, I think we could have done amazing things together. You’re going to make someone very happy one day—but that person isn’t me. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” I watched the column of his throat bob and squeezed his hand as tightly as I could manage. He held me a moment more, then stood. “I’ll work on a bit of engineering genius and name it after you, my lost love.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, full and loud. “Goodbye, Mephistopheles.”

  “It’s Ayden, please.” He moved to the door and paused. “Until we meet again.”

  Thomas stood rigidly beside me, gloved hands gripping the frosted railing as we watched passengers disembark. They would all certainly have stories to tell about the ill-fated ship. Not even Houdini would escape from the scandal, though I was certain he would turn out fine in the end. A group of policemen made their way through the crowd, heading into the brig to collect the criminal the papers were calling the Bavarian Ripper. It wouldn’t be long now. My breath caught, and I had the sudden urge to hold my center. I did not want to say goodbye. I dreaded it.

  “I’ll be with you again soon enough, Wadsworth. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

  I stared at his profile, heart thudding dully. He hadn’t looked me squarely in the face since I’d taken the knife. I knew my sleight-of-word act had worked a bit too well, and I deserved his anger, but this was too cold to bear. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “The fact remains I am needed here, in New York, as your uncle’s representative.” He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the people still exiting the ship. I wanted to clutch his overcoat, shake him until he was forced to look at me. But I kept one hand at my side and the other firmly on my borrowed cane. He had always granted me the freedom of choice. I would not steal his from him. If he wanted to stay here, I would not selfishly beg. “I will join you as soon as I can.”

  I ignored the tear rolling down my cheek. I did not wish to part like this—with him as cold and distant as the shores of England. We had been through far too much. Though perhaps it wasn’t the act I’d put on—it was possible he couldn’t bear to see me after I’d been injured.

  Maybe my broken leg was a reminder of how close we’d both come to losing our lives. I may have realized what I was willing to give up, but that didn’t mean he’d come to the same conclusion.

  I gathered my emotions, proud of how much control I had of them now. “Aren’t you supposed to say something like ‘I’ll miss you terribly, Wadsworth. These next few weeks shall be a slow sort of torture, I’m sure.’ O
r some other Cresswell witticism?”

  He finally turned to me, eyes lacking their usual glimmer of trouble. “Of course I will miss you. It will feel like my heart is being surgically forced from my chest against my will.” He inhaled deeply. “I’d rather be run through with every sword in Jian’s arsenal. But this is the best for the case.”

  He was right. Of course he was. The case had to come first, but I didn’t have to like it. I gripped my cane tighter. My entire life I’d wished for the bars of my gilded cage to disappear—all I’d ever wanted was to be set free. To choose my own path. First my father had let me go, and now it seemed Thomas was doing the same.

  Freedom was both heady and terrifying. Now that it was in my grasp, I wanted to shove it back. I had no idea what to do with it or myself.

  “Then I wish you well, Mr. Cresswell,” I said, ignoring the wrongness of my formal words. “You’re right. Being upset is silly when we shall meet again soon.”

  I waited for him to snap out of this cool persona, to don the warmth of his affection for me, but he remained unmoved. A detective cleared his throat behind us, destroying the last of our moments together. I didn’t know whether to burst into laughter or tears. Only eight short nights before, we’d stood on this very promenade, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing beneath the stars.

  “Mr. Cresswell? We’re taking the bodies ashore now. We require your presence en route to the hospital.”

  Thomas nodded curtly. “Of course. I’m at your disposal.”

  The detective tipped his hat to me before disappearing back into the ship. My pulse roared and my leg ached. This was truly it. The moment I’d been dreading since the Ripper case. I was finally saying goodbye to Mr. Thomas Cresswell. It felt as if there was not enough oxygen left on earth to sustain me. I dragged in breath after breath, cursing my corset for being so fashionably tight. I was fine. This was all fine.