Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3) Read online

  “Precisely. Even a successful showman wouldn’t spend so much on the fine leather he chooses,” Thomas said. “He certainly wouldn’t purchase expensive pairs every time. Which leads me to believe he’s most definitely someone who already hails from a wealthy household and doesn’t offer much thought to spending frivolously. If you knew you’d need to replace your shoes nightly, would you purchase the most costly ones?”

  He had a point. “Well. That would also explain his insistence on wearing a mask and using a stage name, wouldn’t it?” I studied my friend, taking in the familiar sharp angles of his profile. “Yet you believe he’s dangerous.”

  “He’s secretive, manipulative, capable of making harmless things feel sinister, and sinister things feel harmless. Two young women are dead. Based on those reasons alone, I do not trust him.” Thomas ignored the polite rules of our world and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together, expression thoughtful. “He wants something from you. I’m not sure what, but my best guess is it’s not for anything good. Whatever his motivations, they are strictly for his benefit or the carnival’s. And if he hurts you…”

  “I am capable of taking care of myself, as you know. I’ve already survived meeting him alone, there’s nothing to worry over. I believe getting close to him would be beneficial in multiple ways.”

  Thomas stood and paced near the funnel closest to the bow of the ship, shoulders bunched either against the wind or the partial plan I’d blurted out. I slowly got up and followed, wishing I could stuff the words back into my mouth. Steam billowed out behind him reminding me of lounging cigar smokers in a men’s smoke room, puffs of grayish white drifting lazily into the clouds. If only my friend was as relaxed as that imagery. He was wound so tightly I feared he’d spring into the ocean at any moment.

  “Honestly,” I said, watching him walk back and forth a few more times, “you know it’s the best method of distraction, Thomas. It gives you a wonderful opportunity to work your Cresswell magic and it offers me time to get closer to the performers. Don’t be jealous you didn’t think of it first. Your sulking is unbecoming.”

  He stopped pacing and stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Stepping inside a lion’s cage might be the best form of distraction, but it’s not the safest means, Wadsworth.”

  “The very nature of our job is dangerous,” I argued. “This is simply another tool to use in hunting murderers. If everyone’s attention is on the drama unfolding between Mephistopheles and me, they aren’t paying close attention to you or Uncle.”

  “Oh, really? So no one will be paying attention to your poor, heartbreakingly handsome, jilted lover while you’re getting close to the ringmaster?” He arched a brow. “Perhaps I’ll use myself as bait. I’m sure I could charm my way into the hearts of a few of the performers myself.”

  “Is that what this is about? You feel left out of the excitement?” I asked. “Your job is much more thrilling and important than flirting with the ringmaster. You get to study scuff marks on boots and calculate how they got there and who is responsible. See? Very important work.”

  “Then you ought to have the honor of playing my role,” he said. “I’m all for equality in our partnership.” I pursed my lips and he smiled victoriously. “That’s precisely what I thought. There’s no good reason for you to put yourself in harm’s way. Mephistopheles is a potential murderer. Strolling down the promenade with him is as wise as me sticking my head in the aforementioned lion’s mouth. And while that might be grand fun, it’s undoubtedly a bad idea.”

  “I disagree.”

  “You’re saying I should stick my head in the lion’s mouth, then?”

  “If you wanted to, I’d support it even if I didn’t like it.” I lifted my chin. “If Mephistopheles is the murderer, then he wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack me, knowing he would be the first person you and Uncle targeted. However, staying close to him, gaining his trust, even flirting with him, allows me an opportunity to infiltrate their troupe. If he trusts me, then the others will, too. Who knows what I’ll be able to observe that way?”

  “There is one too many ifs involved,” Thomas said, voice carefully controlled. “If something goes wrong, then you will also be in the direct line of fire. The risk isn’t worth the reward in this instance, Wadsworth.”

  “Then I’m sorry to say we’re at an impasse.” I shook my head. “I feel quite the opposite. Some risks are worth taking, even if they seem impossible at first.”

  Thomas snorted, but his expression was laced with mild disgust. “You sound like him now. In fact, I dare say that you enjoy being around him, just admit it. Is that what—”

  I reached over and turned his face to mine. “He will neither harm me, nor come between us, Cresswell. I don’t care what sort of illusion he tries casting. My heart is yours, no sleight of hand will steal it.”

  Before he could argue, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his. He drew me closer, his hands sliding around my waist, two anchors in a sea of unknowns. We stayed like that, kissing beneath glittering constellations and sporadically falling snow, until the sounds of late-night stragglers broke us apart.

  With effort, Thomas escorted me to my door and bid me good night with a chaste kiss. I looked up at the moon, thoughts as scattered as the stars. If Thomas was correct, and I’m sure he was, then who was the ringmaster and what was he either running from or hiding?

  I slipped into my room and glanced at the clock. Midnight was fast approaching. After exchanging my fur for a wool overcoat, I listened at the door connecting my room to Mrs. Harvey’s, relieved to hear her quiet snoring. Hopefully she’d sleep through the night and not check on me. There was no way I’d fall asleep now, so I crept along the quiet end of the promenade, hoping to find out some answers from the man in question himself.

  “There you are, the curious Miss Wadsworth. I wondered if you’d venture out a second time. But are you here to finish our little chat, or is there something more to your meeting me?”

  Mephistopheles emerged from the shadows of the rowboats, a demon rising out of the foggy mist, a wine bottle dangling from one hand. His mask now reflected the moonlight, making me shiver—I wished he’d take the horrid thing off.

  “Ah. That’s it.” He gazed unabashedly at my form. “Come to steal back your soul? I may be feeling generous this evening, but not that much. It is mine and I do not share.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You fancy yourself quite a bit. Why do you care if I like you or not when you have an entire ship of passengers who are captivated by such theatrics? Shouldn’t you be bothering one of them? They would appreciate your lurking about, brooding. Not to mention”—I eyed him closely—“my cousin says that trapeze artist, Cassie the Empress, is quite smitten.”

  He set the bottle down and leaned against the wall, a movement that was too casual and common for him somehow, and scrutinized me. Thomas was right—now that I was looking for it, he did seem to have an air of station about him. One he hadn’t cultivated by observing the wealthy, but by practicing and living it since birth. There was much more to him than he let on.

  “Are you in possession of so many friends that you needn’t make another?” he finally asked. “What injury have I wrought upon you to deserve that barbed tongue? I’m simply getting to know you. I don’t see any crime in that. Yet there you stand, ready to convict me.”

  “Don’t think I missed that performance earlier or your intention behind it.” I marched over to where he leaned against the wall of rowboats. “You’re trying to create a rift between me and Thomas. I consider that to be injury enough.”

  “And?” he asked. “Was he so offended by my kissing your hand? If he was, then you ought to look into finding another beau. Jealousy is a disease that spreads. If anything, I’ve done you a considerable honor by rooting out that cancer of an emotion. You’re quite welcome.”

  “It would take something much more inexcusable to break us, and I guarantee it is impossible, so don’t even attempt it.”<
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  “There you go,” he said with a toss of a hand. “If you two are unbreakable, then I might try as hard as I want to gain your affection. Where’s the harm in that?”

  “It is indecent and wholly unnecessary considering you and I don’t even know each other, and another woman is in love with you. You are playing a game and I won’t take part in it.” I tried keeping myself from shouting, but my voice rose all the same. I took a moment to compose myself. “And it is unkind. If you truly want to be friends, that’s hardly the way to go about it.”

  “I’m a showman. I am not kind. Nor am I decent.” He lifted a shoulder as if he were simply commenting on something as insignificant as the weather. “If you expect me to be either, you will be disappointed.”

  I glared at him, hands curling at my sides. “Then why, pray tell, did you wish to meet again?”

  He had the absolute nerve to smile at me. “Based on your experience with forensic medicine, I have a revised proposal for you. And it isn’t of the marriage variety—ah, please don’t look so sad.” I all but bared my teeth, and he tossed his hands up in placation. “I’m only kidding, Miss Wadsworth. I require your assistance with my show.”

  He paused, watching to see if I had any arguments thus far, which I did not.

  “I saw your face when your cousin came onstage that first night—you do not approve of the carnival or her role in it, do you?”

  That was untrue. “That is none of your concern.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” He grinned again and I thought of all the ways I might pry that smile from his face. “What if I told you I could assist you? You desire to help your cousin be free of the show and Houdini. I know a secret that would aid your cause. Only if you help me. Do we have a bargain? My assistance for the price of yours?”

  I was desperately curious about the secret he knew, but had learned the price of curiosity. He must have seen something in my expression, though, something that gave him hope.

  “There is one stipulation. You cannot utter one word of our deal. Not to Mr. Cresswell or your cousin, or anyone else aboard this ship. If they were to find out… well, I would be forced to play my hand and tell your secret.”

  “What secret?” I bristled. “I have done nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked, all innocence and deceit at once. “I doubt Liza would ever return home if she discovered you were to blame for her inevitable heartbreak.”

  “I have not even agreed to this, and yet you’re already blackmailing me?”

  He lifted a shoulder again. “You didn’t say no straightaway, did you?”

  I stared at him, working out the offer and trying desperately to rein my emotions in. My initial inclination was to say no, slap him with a discarded glove, and walk away. To rush off in the opposite direction and not lay eyes on him again before we reached America.

  It would be the wisest choice.

  The safest.

  It was also the choice that was selfish and would neither help my cousin nor myself. I’d been raised to use inaction as a security net, but it didn’t lend itself to exploring uncharted waters.

  Mephistopheles stepped closer, a wolf scenting his prey. I could see my distorted image reflected back in the filigree of his mask, and I shuddered.

  “I will give you what you most want, Miss Wadsworth. Your cousin free from ruination and disgrace, all without you having to play the role of villain. And I will get what I most want in return for your help.”

  “What is it that you most want? Surely it cannot simply be my help with the show.”

  “Your cousin, if rumors are to be believed, is no longer able to assist. I do need another pretty girl to help dazzle the crowd. That’s all.”

  “I cannot perform nightly—it’s preposterous to believe my uncle would be all right with it, especially after he’s the one who’s forbidden Liza from that very thing.”

  “I don’t require your help every night. Just for one show in particular.” He gazed at me intently. “Do you want to free your cousin from Houdini or not?”

  My palms itched. I did not want to think about Liza’s tattered reputation should her romance with Houdini either end or become widely known.

  “Liza will be laughed at, mocked, scorned,” Mephistopheles pressed on, knowing he’d found the correct thread to tug that would unravel my resolve. “Her family destroyed. She will never host another tea, be courted by a handsome gentleman, or be invited to a lavish ball.” He took another step forward. “She loves those things, doesn’t she? Will you stand by, watching as she sets her entire life on fire for a man who is sure to disappear once the smoke clears?”

  A cloud floated past the moon, darkening the skies for a moment. It was midnight and I’d already been warned about those types of bargains.

  He leaned in, his gaze locked on to mine. “Do we have a deal?”

  Late nineteenth-century circus performers

  TWELVE

  DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

  BOW

  RMS ETRURIA

  3 JANUARY 1889

  His gloved finger ghosted over my cheek, never directly touching it, but making my pulse speed up nonetheless. I did want my cousin to come home. I wanted her to be happy and free from judgment. But I knew I was wading in murky waters. Just because I saw how much devastation her choice would cause did not grant me the right to choose for her.

  Love was a tricky, complicated thing—so morally gray. Both grand and terrible things were often done in its honor. But could something truly be done out of love if it had the potential to hurt the one at its heart? I wavered.

  “Sounds like a fair deal, does it not?” he said. “All you have to do is participate in the finale—without telling a soul what you’re doing—and everything you desire will be yours. I’ll even give you those lessons in sleight of hand I’d originally promised. Since you have become somewhat of a celebrity in London society, your presence will lend credibility to my scientific work; my assistance will save your cousin. What do you stand to lose?”

  His opening words came to mind immediately, “Which will you lose before the week is through? Your heart? Your head? Perhaps you, too, will lose your life, your very soul.” The shadows near us loomed closer. My heart banged around. The bargain sounded too simple, too easy, for me to agree to. Which meant there was some hidden benefit for Mephistopheles and some detriment to me. I studied his carefully composed expression.

  “I…”

  “Yes?” Somehow he’d managed to move again without my noticing. He smelled of a sultry, spicy incense. Hints of ginger and citrus mixed with careful notes of vanilla and lavender surrounded us. I resisted the urge to breathe it in deeply. His gaze traveled across my features, openly examining me.

  “All I have to do is go onstage during the finale?”

  “More or less.” He smiled. “I’m still working out the details.”

  Technically Liza would simply be learning the truth, then she’d form her own decision based on facts presented to her. Nothing would be hidden. If she still chose to stay with the carnival and Houdini, then I would not interfere again, though I’m sure Uncle would have much to say regarding that. My palms tingled. I was only bartering for information. I was not forcing her hand or making a choice for her. And all I had to do was show up onstage for his foolish grand finale; it was hardly a taxing proposition. Still…

  “Do we have a bargain, Miss Wadsworth?”

  Indecision stopped gripping my mind. I could not sit in the comfort of safety, not when the risk was too great to my cousin. That was moral obligation enough. “If I accept your offer—I’ll need more details of what Harry Houdini has hidden. No lies.”

  Mephistopheles crossed his heart. “No lies.”

  I bit my lip, praying curiosity wasn’t getting the better of me. “Then I accept your bargain.”

  Mephistopheles lifted one side of his mouth, and my heart sped in protest. His look didn’t promise there wouldn’t be regrets involved. Quite the c
ontrary. It was too late of a warning, though. I’d already made a deal with the Devil and now I’d see it through.

  “What information do you have on Houdini?”

  “There’s a woman in America he writes to. Very often.” He shook his head. “I don’t have to be a detective inspector to figure out how much he loves her. Every town or city we pass through, he sends off another letter.” His expression turned from smug to pained. “Even after he met Liza, the letters have never ceased. I fear that, well, to be honest, I know he hasn’t mentioned it to her.”

  The scoundrel! In love with another woman, sending her notes from each adventure—and all behind my dear cousin’s back. I closed my eyes, hoping to dull the anger. Pretending I didn’t know what a lying rogue he was would be difficult, especially when I longed to disembowel him.

  “Why do you care about Liza’s reputation?” I inspected the ringmaster’s face, searching for any hint to his true motivation. Like most everything else about him, his expression was carefully controlled, giving me nothing but a slight smirk to go on. A smirk with just the right hint of innocence to make the trouble seem worth the risk. “What does that matter to you?”

  “It doesn’t. I simply need to give my show a boost, and as the passengers are aware of your forensic background, you, my dear, will play along and claim my tricks are truly magical. If you, an expert in your field, are convinced, then my reputation will improve. Something I’m in desperate need of as bodies keep showing up during or after my shows. This information is strictly a bargaining chip—one I’d not use if I didn’t have need to do so.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Don’t appear so chafed. I already told you, I’m not a decent man.”

  I drew in a measured breath. No, he wasn’t. “You do realize how impossible it’s going to be—convincing passengers that magic exists—don’t you?”

  Mephistopheles held a hand up. “I don’t believe your job will be as difficult as all that, Miss Wadsworth. Your lovely presence at the right time in the finale is all that I’ll need.”