Becoming the Dark Prince Page 2

  I would have to be dead to have forgotten when I’d remarked not so long ago about drinking wine and dancing inappropriately together. I inhaled slowly, trying to form a coherent thought, a task proving to be especially difficult. Warring feelings battled for supremacy. That persistent, pure, white-hot envy as I pictured her dancing with someone else, surpassed only by an overwhelming satisfaction that she had been thinking of me.

  I hated the jealousy—it made me feel monstrous and out of control. She deserved better. I deserved it too. Our courtship wasn’t yet official; regardless, I didn’t believe in having rights to dictate to another. It was hideously outdated. I’d much rather she choose me.

  “I closed my eyes and imagined I was dancing with you,” Audrey Rose said. Her green gaze was mesmerizing as she pulled me closer, tipping her face up. “It made it easier… acting. I don’t think I’m very good at it. The stage isn’t any place for me. But I wanted to try. I thought I could help those women.”

  Missing pieces clicked into place. She wasn’t falling for the ringmaster; she was making it look that way. Hope rose and then crashed against the shore of my insecurity. I shoved it aside. She was here, edging closer, staring at my mouth like it was a work of art she’d love to study. I’d be a fool to ruin everything by allowing doubt to shove itself in.

  “Perhaps you should stop acting and take advantage of me now.”

  She arched a brow, feigning surprise, but the pleasant flush of her skin gave her true feelings away. “Fiend.”

  I held my hand out, a genuine smile twitching across my lips. “My dearest, Wadsworth. I was talking about dancing with me. What were you thinking about?”

  “Kissing you.”

  I opened my mouth, a quip at the ready, then faltered. All hints of teasing vanished. I hadn’t expected such raw honesty. That was a trick I played. Her smile was slow and immensely self-satisfied as I blinked dumbly at her. She’d wanted to surprise me and knew she’d accomplished her goal. I couldn’t deny falling deeper under her spell.

  She touched my lips with her fingertips, gaze darkening. “Will you?”

  My heartbeat quickened. I wanted nothing more than to capture her mouth with mine, to kiss away the doubt that lingered in the depths of my heart, to give her the affection she deserved. As I leaned in to give her everything she asked for, I smelled the barest hint of spirits on her breath. At the last moment, I changed my mind. When I kissed Audrey Rose, I wanted to be sure she truly wished for me to.

  Purposely misunderstanding her, I pulled her to me, and we danced—much too closely and yet not nearly close enough—while crystal flakes of snow fell. We waltzed down the promenade and back until her eyes drooped, and I lifted her into my arms and carried her into her cabin. I tucked her under her sheets and pressed my lips to her forehead. Somehow our evening dancing beneath the stars and snow was more meaningful than sharing her bed.

  “Goodnight, Audrey Rose.”

  She likely wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but I hoped she’d think it was a wonderful dream. A memory I might one day paint so I could look back on it long into the future and be filled with the same sense of warmth and peace.

  Instead of being distracted by jealousy and bargains that ultimately didn’t matter, I wish I’d been paying better attention to the nightmare that was about to unfold.

  In four short days, she’d be in my arms, bleeding out. And I’d finally become the dark prince my father knew me to be, as I unleashed myself upon them all.

  Vintage stage and fog.

  One

  DINING SALOON

  RMS ETRURIA

  8 JANUARY 1889

  Blood spilled over my hands in warm, rhythmic gushes. For one drawn-out moment, I was frozen, then my world narrowed to an equation. Sterile. Familiar. Calm. The exact opposite of my surroundings. Chaos reigned on stage, and I was semi-aware of a struggle raging behind us.

  Jian, the mighty Knight of Swords, had joined Mephisto in wrestling Andreas to the ground, but the murdering fortune-teller wasn’t giving up easily. I watched as each of the Moonlight Carnival performers fought him, taking out both their rage and hurt on the man who’d sacrificed their troupe in order to exact his revenge.

  A dark, seething anger boiled up. I’d never been particularly violent, choosing to use my talents for deducing the impossible in order to end violence, but a part of me wanted to jump into the brawl and unleash a feral attack on the man who’d hurled a knife into Audrey Rose. I also wanted to avenge each of the innocent women whose lives he stole—all in the same of his own fiancée’s death.

  I stared at the knife in Audrey Rose’s leg, imagining how it’d feel to slash his throat open with it. I’d never wished for anyone’s blood to be on my hands before, but, as I clutched the girl I loved, her lifeblood emptying onto me and the floor, I prayed for the chance to return the favor on him tenfold. I would gut him while he still breathed and feed him his innards. Jack the Ripper would tremble at my ruthlessness, the brutality in which I carved him open and laid him bare.

  Andreas managed to land a punch in Mephisto’s gut before Jian tackled him. He was so close I could almost seize him… but then Audrey Rose let out a quiet, sobbing breath.

  I turned back to her. I needed to focus.

  I set my jaw and surveyed the wound. There was too much blood, an indication her femoral artery had been hit. I couldn’t risk removing the blade until I stopped the blood flow. The knife was likely the only thing preventing her from bleeding to death.

  At that, a sudden, rapid flutter assaulted my chest. Panic.

  My mind shut itself down into a sterile, unfeeling weapon. If I thought about the girl lying still beneath me, her eyes slowly losing focus, I’d be consumed by fear. If I allowed terror into my heart, I might as well sign her death warrant. Logically, I knew this; emotionally, I was failing.

  “Wadsworth,” I said, forcing my tone into a calmness I didn’t feel, “stay here. Stay here with me.”

  She struggled to look at me, her eyes glazed with a bright sheen. When she finally focused on my face, her expression turned peaceful. I wanted to rip open my flesh and give her anything she needed to survive, even if it meant sacrificing my own blood. “I’m not… going… anywhere.”

  Distantly, I was aware of the audience rushing from their seats and voices shouting. Women crying. A stampede of heels and boots on marble floors. Doors slamming against walls as the passengers fled into the corridor. I clamped my jaw together so tightly I heard a sharp crack. I glanced up as Anishaa, the fire-eater, tossed a length of rope to Mephisto, and Houdini used his talents to secure Andreas. Distractions.

  “Thomas…” Wadsworth’s voice was faint. Too faint. A strange, violent wave of emotions raged upward, threatening to pull me under. “Don’t leave me.”

  As if that would ever be possible. “Never.”

  Tears dropped onto her. I was too far gone to consider that I was crying. She was cold. Blood slicked my fingers. I needed to staunch the bleeding soon or she’d die before me. Her eyes fluttered shut. For a second, her chest stopped rising. Everything inside me turned to ice.

  Memories of losing my mother, watching the life leave her once vibrant features, assaulted me now. I’d been too young, too inexperienced to save her then. I would not let Death unjustly steal someone I loved again. I gently clapped a hand to Wadsworth’s face. No response. My heart must still be working, because I swore I felt it cleave in half. I clapped her face again, and again, and her eyes didn’t so much as flutter.

  “Audrey Rose!” I shouted. “Look at me!”

  I ripped my tie off and cinched it above her wound as a tourniquet of sorts, careful to not disturb the knife. I had to slow the blood until she was moved to the infirmary and I could safely remove the blade.

  If I kept repeating what needed to be done, I might remain calm.

  “Audrey Rose!” My voice was wild. She was unresponsive. Death was imminent, but I’d battle it until it claimed me first. “Mephisto!” I shouted, startling the ringmaster from where he stood over a now-subdued Andreas. He rushed to my side, his light brown face looking pale behind his masquerade mask. “Get Dr. Wadsworth. Now!”

  For all his faults, he didn’t hesitate. He dodged around fleeing passengers, shoving and weaving until he disappeared into the corridor. I shifted to the other performers who’d gathered in a protective circle. Jian and Sebastián guarded Andreas. Anishaa and Cassie—the trapeze artist who’d tried to drop a bag of resin onto Andreas before he could strike—fell to their knees beside us. They cared for her. While I’d been stewing in insecurity, Audrey Rose had made genuine connections while trying to solve the mystery. I swallowed a sudden lump rising in my throat.

  “I need a disinfectant,” I said. “Then needle and thread. Clean cloths and a bowl of warm water. If we can’t find alcohol, fire will do to sterilize the blade.”

  Anishaa blinked tears away, then she and Cassie tore through the dining saloon to get the supplies. I’d need to perform the surgery now. Here. Time was almost up.

  “You stay here with me, Wadsworth.” I clutched her hand. “I will follow you beyond death and drag you back if I must.”

  “Here!” Anishaa skidded to a halt and handed me a needle and thread. Cassie was a moment behind her with a pitcher of water and a bottle of spirits she must have filched from the kitchens. I’d forgotten we were still in the dining saloon. I couldn’t fathom how they’d moved so fast to retrieve the items. Fear and love were powerful motivators.

  “I need fire,” I said, turning to Cassie. “Here, put as much pressure on her wound as you can.” I refused to let my grip ease until Cassie had her hands firmly in place. To her credit, she didn’t so much as blink at the blood spurting up through her fingers. Her jaw was set, her gaze det
ermined. She would do whatever needed to be done, no matter how terrifying it was.

  “Anishaa, when I remove the blade, I need you to splash alcohol onto the wound and give me the needle and thread. Dr. Wadsworth should arrive soon and he’ll take over.” I glanced up. “Are we all clear on how to proceed? Once I take that blade out, it’s going to go to hell.”

  Cassie flicked her gaze up. “Aren’t we already in hell?”

  “True enough.” I sucked in a deep breath, steadying myself. “One. Two. Th—”

  “Thomas.” Dr. Wadsworth appeared in front of me, his face grim. “Allow me.”

  Part of me didn’t trust him, didn’t trust anyone with the impossible task. Which was ludicrous. He’d taught me everything I knew about surgery. I moved away, waiting for his instructions.

  “Hold her leg at the ankle and upper thigh,” he ordered. I did as I was told, taking over from Cassie. Someone shifted beside me and held her ankles. I focused on applying enough pressure to her upper leg without harming her.

  The doctor carefully pulled the knife out, making sure he removed it in the exact direction it had entered. He wanted to do the least amount of damage on the way out. Dr. Wadsworth and I had much practice with reattaching limbs and digits thanks to our secret work, but stitching an artery would prove tricky, even for him. If he miscalculated, she could bleed internally.

  The blade slipped free and blood spurted up, spraying me in the face. It wasn’t pulsing at even intervals, suggesting her heart rate was slowing.

  “Anishaa!” I cried. Without hesitation, the performer poured the spirits onto the wound, Cassie handed her a damp cloth. “Douse the wound with water now!”

  Blood pooled too quickly for us to see properly. A hand came down on my shoulder, but I refused to look up from my task. I had to hold her leg tightly enough to staunch the bleeding, I had to—

  “Thomas.” Dr. Wadsworth’s calm voice nevertheless held a command. I paused to look at him. “You can let go of her leg now. Put the cauterizing rod in the flames.”

  I didn’t want to let go. Part of me felt like if I did, Audrey Rose would forever slip from my grasp. But arguing would destroy the girl I loved. I jerked my head in a semblance of a nod and hurried to do as I was instructed. The doctor had much more experience with veins and arteries. If anyone might save her, it was him.

  Things moved in a blur of precision interspersed with panic. I mechanically followed instructions, ignorant of everything outside of the doctor’s voice. There wasn’t anything but science and determination now. Eventually the chaos in both the room and on the floor before me evened out. Dr. Wadsworth barked at someone to help me hold her leg steady while he took the rod to her limb. I hardly noticed who had come to assist. Blood suddenly ceased. It was like a spigot turning off. The pair of hands that had helped hold her disappeared. After adding more disinfectant to the interior of the wound, Doctor Wadsworth expertly stitched her skin together, nodding for me to dab a bit of Thayer’s witch-hazel astringent once he’d completed his task.

  Mephisto edged into view. His arms were crossed and his expression was carefully controlled, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of his jugular as he stared down at Audrey Rose. I saw what he was trying to hide—the blood covering his hands. He was the one who had helped me hold her, then. For some reason, despite how hard he fought to get to the doctor, that made me want to launch myself at him. He had no right to worry over someone he tried winning through a game of manipulation. He and his cursed bargains and his secret agenda. I could strangle him right here.

  “What now?” he asked, his tone devoid of its usual teasing.

  Dr. Wadsworth pushed his spectacles up his nose, leaving a crimson smear across his face. He inhaled deeply, his expression haggard and worn. “Now we wait and see.”

  I stopped imagining all the ways I’d strangle Mephistopheles with Houdini’s chains, focusing instead on the chalky pallor clinging to Audrey Rose like an unwelcome ghost.

  Judging by the wide crimson pool around her, if she made it through the night, it would be a blessed miracle. As it stood, my chances of becoming a career murderer—a role most everyone in London already accused me of—were far greater than her opening her eyes again.

  In that moment, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, I understood, just a bit, how Andreas had plotted and exacted his revenge. If Audrey Rose died… it would take little effort to set the beast inside me free.

  Vintage vaudeville tents

  Two

  INFIRMARY

  RMS ETRURIA

  9 JANUARY 1889

  Nearly twenty sleepless hours later, sounds of crew members preparing the ship for port broke through the thoughts filtering in and out of my brain while I sat vigil in the infirmary. Several hours ago, I’d exhausted each fear and now moved onto trivial thoughts. I pictured the striped tents the Moonlight Carnival had set up on the promenade decks—what felt like moments ago instead of two days—being swiftly stuffed away for a new crowd. A new city.

  We’d finally reached New York, and I couldn’t muster an ounce of excitement. I’d dreamed of visiting this city for as long as I could recall, mesmerized by the promises of becoming someone new. Reinventing myself. Pursuing dreams that might seem outlandish to others but were entirely possible in America. At times it felt like no one wanted to leave their past behind as much as I did.

  New York was the perfect place to transform into whoever I fancied. I didn’t have to be the dark prince my father accused me of, nor was I trapped being the strange, unfeeling young man who’d lost his mother too young. Here, in America, I could simply be Thomas Cresswell.

  At the moment, thinking of the bustling streets and endless possibilities, New York held little appeal. What good was running from destiny when it swung back around and clipped you in the jaw no matter what? I envied my sister in some respects. Her association with the Order of the Dragon—an ancient chivalric group of nobles who sought to protect the cross and their country from invaders, and whose name our ancestor Vlad Dracul had taken for his own—permitted her that very freedom I sought. Turning down the offer to join their secretive ranks might have been a hasty decision. One I still couldn’t bring myself to regret.

  I stopped thinking and focused on the here and now. I sat on a chair someone had pulled over to the bed during some point in the night. Either the professor or Liza. A lifetime of recalling the most obscure facts, gone in my panic over watching Wadsworth. Nothing else had mattered in those initial hours. Nothing but willing her body to mend itself together, making all sorts of promises to God for her to recover.

  I stared at her with the same intensity now, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest. It wasn’t much, but she’d survived the night. I laced my fingers through hers, swallowing hard. Her skin was a shade darker than a corpse’s and almost as cold. A slow, steady beat thrummed in my chest. Insistent. Angry. Fearful. She might never awaken and all for saving me.

  “You brave, foolish soul.” I fought the burning in my eyes. “You should have let the knife get me.” If she died… I swear I’ll take the knife Andreas used and I’ll slam it through his cursed heart.

  “And after you stab him, then what?” Dr. Wadsworth asked, his voice gruff. I kept myself from jerking back. I hadn’t realized he was standing in the room. I also hadn’t realized I’d said that last part out loud. I shifted my attention to him, and he shook his head at me. “Would you honor her sacrifice by getting yourself locked away like a dog? Do you think that would make her happy? I didn’t think you were such a fool, boy.”

  “She isn’t dying,” I almost snarled at him. I didn’t know what was emerging from within me—but the monster I’d tried to destroy reared up, searching for someone to attack. I counted the seconds ticking away on the clock, using the distraction to calm myself. A moment later, I said, softer, “She can’t die.”