Escaping From Houdini (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 3) Page 13

  I threaded one leg over the bar, heart racing for multiple reasons. “People who also work for the carnival?”

  Cassie motioned for me to repeat the procedure with my other leg. I hesitated, but only for another moment, hoping she’d keep talking. This was exactly what I needed: information that might prove to be a motive for murder. She helped pull my leg over the bar and made sure it rested solidly against the backs of my knees. While I did feel secure with the grip, I felt anything but comforted while dangling upside down. The ground was very, very far away.

  “No,” she finally said. “The people I owe aren’t in the carnival.”

  Before I could inquire further, she untied the trapeze from where it had been secured to two large poles for me and gave me a slight push. I couldn’t control the yelp that escaped my lips as I flew across the room. I closed my eyes, fearing that I’d either be sick or panic and do something stupid and go crashing to my death.

  “Open your eyes!” Mephistopheles called up. “Enjoy the view! Come on now. I didn’t peg you as a coward.”

  The rogue was squawking like a chicken. I cracked a lid, colors and lights flashed by, much like I imagined my life to be flying away. I swung one way, then the other, each pass seeming to go on simultaneously forever and too fast to recall.

  “Look at that,” he shouted up. “You’re flying!”

  My heart thrashed and my breath came in short bursts, though fear was ebbing away to excitement. I slowly extended my arms. In this moment I understood the draw of the carnival—the magnetic pull to run away from restrictions and simply let go. To allow myself complete and utter freedom to soar.

  Despite my morning trapeze practice, the late-night bargain I’d struck with Mephistopheles felt like I had, indeed, sold my soul to the Devil. I had no right to meddle with Liza’s affairs, yet how could I sit back and remain inactive while Houdini destroyed her life on a romantic whim? His letter clearly indicated his love and admiration for a woman who was not my cousin. And yet imagining myself handing the evidence over and watching her heart shatter felt equally horrible.

  I paced along the small rug of our cabin, dreading the next hour of performances. I was no better than those acting onstage—pretending to be a decent cousin when I was a filthy liar. Liza was content with her choice, but only because she didn’t know the whole truth. Somehow having Mephistopheles intervene seemed kinder than flat out breaking her heart.

  Truth was a blade I did not wish to stab her with. Perhaps he should be the one to give her the letter. Seemed like the sort of wretched thing he’d enjoy.

  “Audrey Rose?” Liza hovered in the connecting-room doorway. She was resplendent in a raspberry-colored evening gown that had layers of black lace over the skirts—no one would recognize her dressed in her finery and without one of those filigree masks. I was thankful the Moonlight Carnival required such costumes; it would help keep my cousin’s identity a secret and make it easy for her to return to England without society being any the wiser. Mephistopheles truly had considered everything when he’d run from his own family name, whatever that was.

  “You look gorgeous, Cousin.”

  “It’s a bit odd,” she said, turning her face from side to side in my looking glass, puckering her lips. “I’ve not sat in on a performance since London. Though it will be nice to be a member of the audience for once. An entire evening free of the costume makeup will be delightful. It feels like plaster and dries my skin in the most wretched ways!” Liza stopped adjusting her coiffure and glanced at me in the looking glass. “Is everything all right? You seem on edge. You’re not even dressed yet… are you not going to the show?”

  I plopped onto my bed, the weight of my secrets pressing me down. “I’m not sure. I was up early and didn’t sleep very well—perhaps I might miss this one night.”

  Liza dropped her hands and came to my side. “You simply cannot miss this show! The Ace of Wands will truly be remarkable to witness. I’ve seen her practice and still cannot believe how brave she is, swallowing fire—you’d enjoy speaking with her, too. She’s always studying new journals on engineering and science. A lot of the performers draw up ideas and give them to Mephistopheles to create.”

  I raised my brows at this. “He engineers the props entirely alone?”

  “Oh, yes.” Liza nodded. “He makes all of them. No dream is too far-fetched or out of reach. Whenever we’re practicing, he sequesters himself away to craft what we need. He doesn’t usually permit anyone in his cabin—he claims it distracts him, but I believe he’s not keen on having anyone steal his innovative secrets. He plays everything close to his chest, that one.”

  “So no one ever has access to his personal room, then?” I tried sounding as nonchalant as possible.

  “I’m sure the women he beds are invited in.”

  “Liza!” My face burned yet my blood froze. It was a crass angle I hadn’t considered. Perhaps a jilted lover did commit the murders. Maybe she was intent on destroying his carnival the way he’d destroyed her heart. I’d never seen him without his mask, but the sharp cut of his jaw and fullness of his lips hinted at attractiveness. “Does he take many women to his chambers?”

  “Why all the interest in the ringmaster?” Misunderstanding the source of my curiosity, she narrowed her eyes. “You have something real and grand and irreplaceable with Mr. Cresswell. Mephistopheles is a great showman, but that’s the crux of it. He’s all show. I caution you to remember that. He’s inviting, but in the way the flame on a candle is. It might set ambiance, create a sense of warmth, but if you get too close, it will burn you.”

  “You’ve become quite the poet,” I said, lightly. I wanted to ask if she had those same fears and concerns over Houdini, but pressed my lips together. I motioned vaguely in the direction of my trunk. “What should I wear?”

  Liza jumped up, clapping her hands together. “Something breathtaking.” Carefully sorting through my gowns, she lifted one up as if it were a prize. Pale sage with pink roses and ribbons that had been sewn onto one shoulder and cascaded from the right hip to the floor, it was certainly a showstopper. “This is it. You will be more dazzling than the performers in this.”

  Tonight the dining saloon had transformed once again. Tables were dressed in dark blue silk, the surfaces shiny enough to reflect lights, while crystal goblets twinkled like glitter. White calla lily and eucalyptus garlands spilled over each table and brushed the checkered floor—decadent and fragrant. I longed to run my fingers over the velvety softness of the petals, but managed to maintain an air of dignity. I glanced at Liza and Mrs. Harvey, who wore similar expressions of awe. I wasn’t the only one who felt as if I were walking into a star-filled dream.

  Thomas and Uncle were already swirling drinks, heads bent in what appeared to be a heated debate, when Mrs. Harvey, Liza, and I entered the room. I’d made excuses for not going over case details with them this afternoon, locking myself away to practice sleight of hand. It was disastrous. I mostly got a workout in picking up the cards after I’d dropped them all over the floor. Though the snap trick Andreas had taught me was slowly improving.

  Always in tune with my presence, Thomas lifted his attention, and heat shot through me as our eyes met across the room. He said something to my uncle, pushed back from his seat, and was at my side a moment later, offering his arm. My pulse thrummed at his touch.

  “Ladies. You are all stunning this evening.” He placed a hand around one ear, tilting his head to the side. “Did you hear that? I believe it was the sound of hearts shattering across the room. Do be careful as you step over bloody shards.”

  I shook my head. “Honestly? ‘Bloody shards’?”

  “Do you blame them for being envious? I’d be riotously jealous of me, too. In fact, I might challenge myself to a duel after supper.”

  Thomas grinned, escorting us all to the table without further teasing. I swore sometimes his manners were so polite, so exquisitely regal, I had a hard time remembering he was the same young man who’d been
called an automaton during the Ripper investigation. He leaned in, whispering so only I could hear.

  “We had an interesting day. Captain Norwood called us in to discuss a rather delicate matter.” He pulled my chair out, then did the same for Mrs. Harvey. A waiter had come over and assisted Liza. Thomas took a seat next to me. “Apparently, a first-class cabin was broken into last night. Sometime during supper and the show.”

  “How strange.”

  “Indeed. Murdered passengers, a missing girl, a burglary… this ship is a floating nightmare for the captain.”

  Chandeliers dimmed. It wouldn’t be long before the show now. Waiters moved around the room with practiced ease, setting covered trays down at each table. I wasn’t sure what was on the menu tonight, but whatever it was, it smelled divine. It helped cover up the slight odor of kerosene coming from the stage. My mouth watered as the scent of butter, lemon, and garlic wafted up, greeting my senses. A carafe of white wine was set at our table, indicating our entrée might be seafood. I hoped for prawns or scallops or even a nice, plump lobster.

  I shook myself free from hungry thoughts, returning to the matter at hand. “How did the captain or occupants know the cabin had been broken into?”

  “The lady’s trunk had been rummaged through,” Thomas said, lifting the lid of his tray. Half a lobster broiled to perfection and smothered in garlic butter with fragrant green herbs sat in the center of the plate. I nearly groaned when I lifted my own lid. “Her finest bolts of silk were missing, along with a few scarves. As you know, her maid would have taken greater care with those garments. She’d never scatter them about like that.”

  “Why was she traveling with bolts of fabric?” I asked.

  “She was bringing them to New York to have them made into dresses by a renowned dressmaker. Apparently the pattern on it was designed for a costume ball—it had vines wrapped around trees near what would be the hem, and constellations near what would have been the bodice.”

  “So the fabric was stolen but the woman was accounted for, correct?”

  “Yes,” Thomas said, pausing to sip from his wine, “she reported it to the maids who came to clean her room.”

  “Hmm. Well, if it were to turn up, it would be unmistakable.” It was all so strange. Missing bolts of fabric, young women who seemed to vanish under the twinkling dark skies. Two hideous murders. Surely it had to be connected, but how was the question of the hour. Last night we’d had a respite, though I feared it wouldn’t be long before another body showed up. “What do you make of it?”

  Thomas cut into his lobster, stopping to answer me before taking a bite. “Honestly? I’m not sure. There’s not been much in the way of clues, making it difficult to deduce anything. Missing silk isn’t that unusual. We’re aboard a ship with a lot of passengers, most of whom don’t need to sign their true names for the ship log. Expensive fabrics fetch decent coin—it might be the only motivation for the theft.”

  “Unless it’s all connected. Then theft isn’t entirely the motivation.”

  “Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing what’s connected and what isn’t. Thus far we know she’s got no affiliation with either victim.” Thomas sipped from his goblet. “Conjecture and speculation aren’t solid facts.”

  He sounded a lot like Uncle. While I agreed that divorcing myself from emotions was pertinent while in the laboratory, I also knew the value of trusting my gut instincts when something didn’t feel right about the theft.

  I took a careful bite of my dinner, relishing the savory flavors as the lights turned way down. I turned my attention to the stage, where swaths of silver and pale blue silk hung from the ceiling—stars and snowflakes knotted at their ends. It simultaneously gave the impression of shooting stars and falling snow. Glitter caught the dim light as the stars twirled in place. It was stunning—another masterpiece for the Moonlight Carnival.

  I expected Mephistopheles to appear onstage amidst the smoke and cymbals explosion. I did not expect to see a petite young woman twirling twin flames at her sides stride into the room. The scent of kerosene was stronger now, burning my nose a bit with its sharpness. Perhaps they should have waited until after supper before sending her out. The delicate flavor of lobster was all but ruined.

  “That’s Anishaa. Her tarot is the Ace of Wands.” Liza broke away from her conversation with Uncle and Mrs. Harvey, leaning in to whisper, “Her costume’s supposed to represent ice.”

  I could see how that was true. Silver hair matched sequins sewn across her corset and was braided in thick strands about the crown of her head. Her skin was painted bluish white everywhere it was exposed—arms, hands, face and across the sweep of her collarbone. It was chilling, in a way, seeing how she appeared as a creature born of frost who played so menacingly with fire. Her top hat and corset were a white so pure they almost seemed ice blue.

  In fact, upon closer inspection, I could see pale blue threads shot through with silver trimming the entire ensemble. Even her eyes—exposed by larger holes in her mask—had been edged in blue and gold and her lashes were pure white. She looked like a frozen star.

  She lifted a wand of fire and exhaled, flames streaming out as if she were a dragon. Gasps went up around us as she strutted to the opposite end of the stage and repeated the trick. I couldn’t help but stare as she took the same wand of fire and swallowed it as if it were a delicacy.

  “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Liza asked, eyes following the fire-eater as she cartwheeled across the stage, stood tall, and swallowed another torch of flames. A stagehand ran another set of flaming wands out and she tipped her head back, spitting flames skyward. “Their acts might be a lie or an illusion, but they live honestly. They don’t hide who they are, or pretend to play by society’s rules. Not like the nobility, who smile to your face while sticking a dagger in your back.”

  I dropped my gaze to my plate—the food tonight truly was exquisite, though I found my appetite to be suddenly uncooperative. If Liza knew I was the one holding a dagger to her dreams of wedding Houdini, she’d never speak to me again. I spent the next few moments with my head half in the conversations around me, and half on the guilt that kept piling up.

  It wasn’t until the first screams began that I jolted back into the here and now.

  FOURTEEN

  THE STAR

  DINING SALOON

  RMS ETRURIA

  4 JANUARY 1889

  A fire erupted onstage, turning the fantastical winter setting into a hellscape. Flames roared at fleeing guests, jumping from one silk thread dangling from the ceiling to the next. Now instead of snowflakes and shooting stars, fire and ash rained down. Anishaa frantically shouted for assistance behind the curtains, and buckets of water appeared. As the acrid odor of smoke drifted through the air and black soot sloshed over the stage, the screaming increased. Another almost familiar scent wafted around. It smelled as if it were—

  “Merciful God above… what is that?” Liza grabbed my arm so hard I yelped. “Up there! I think—I think I may be ill.”

  I dragged my focus skyward and felt the blood drain from me. Tied up in exquisite silks cocooned about each arm, a person shrouded in black gauze swayed spread-eagle above the stage, a black crown of stars fastened about its head. Flames engulfed the figure from its feet as if it were a human torch sprung to life. I stared, frozen with disbelief as chunks of roasting flesh began splattering down. The person had been hung upright, the flames traveling from the feet toward the head at a fierce pace.

  Surely this couldn’t be real. It hadn’t been so long since my last delusion—I’d been plagued by them while in Romania. That’s what this horror was: a trick of the mind.

  Only it wasn’t.

  “Don’t look.” I clutched my cousin and pulled her head to my shoulder, allowing her to sob. Thomas met my gaze and held it, offering me his strength and allowing mine to fortify him in return. I ran my hands over Liza’s hair, hoping to soothe her and myself with the action. “It’s all right. It’s going to
be all right.”

  “Everyone remain seated. And calm. The flames are mostly contained to the body.” Uncle swept his attention over our table; his first priority was to ensure our safety, though I knew he’d want to get to the victim quickly. He looked to Thomas and nodded, silently passing along responsibility before he disappeared into the exiting crowd.

  “It isn’t alive,” Thomas said, his voice calm despite the fiery inferno and Mrs. Harvey’s wails. “Look.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was stare at the nightmare before us. But my brain slowly slipped into the coolness of a scientist.

  “How…” I forced myself to ignore the scent of burning flesh and hair. To look beyond the clumps of Lord knew what that slopped to the ground. I rocked Liza gently, registering the lack of screams or movement while the fire turned the person into a living star. Thomas was right—whoever it was had already been dead before being set aflame.

  A kindness, if one could call being murdered, then having your corpse torched, kind.

  With a jolt, the body above the stage jerked downward, and those who hadn’t yet made it out the door to safety screamed in horror.

  “Lower the ropes again!” Mephistopheles rushed onto the stage, shouting at crew members who must be hidden in the rafters. “Cut it down! Cut it down now!”

  Two men wielding swords ran under the burning body, hacking at the disintegrating fabric and dodging burning ashes that rained down on them. It might have been Jian and Andreas, but I was seemingly only capable of rocking Liza and trying to keep my own tears from escaping. Narrowing my world to that one comforting motion held me together.

  Waiters and staff shouted for order, but the patrons were beyond their control. Tables turned over. Women swayed and men shoved. It was an absolute horror show as people fought to squeeze through the only two exit doors.

  “Smother the flames!” Captain Norwood emerged into the chaos, tossing horse blankets at the people onstage. “Stamp them out!”