Escaping From Houdini Page 6

  “Have you been studying those journals I gave you, Audrey Rose?” Uncle interrupted, pulling my attention to him. “I’ll need both you and Thomas to be well versed in marks made with an—”

  Uncle fixed his gaze on something across the room, piquing my curiosity. A second assistant rolled a coffin-type contraption onto the stage. Holes were cut out near the top, bottom, and sides of the strange box. Lengths of rope were lassoed about each end and also looped over the shoulders of the female assistants.

  “Oh, good,” Thomas said blandly, “I was hoping they’d wheel the dead out before dessert. Entrails go better with the main course, don’t you agree, Wadsworth?” He crinkled his nose. “Totally wrong for sweets.”

  “Be serious.” My heart raced despite my admonishment. “No one is going to spill entrails.”

  He cocked his head. “I am being serious. That box is used to saw people in half. One wrong move and those in the front row will have blood splatter and severed organs sloshing onto their tables. Messy business for the mousse and berries. Though if we do have a murderer aboard, this might be the spectacle killing we feared.”

  Jian sheathed the swords he’d been swinging about and made a show of inspecting every inch of the wooden box. Liza and the second assistant stood to either side, smiling broadly as if one of them might not be cut open before our very eyes. I subtly wiped my hands down the front of my skirts. Part of me was morbidly fascinated. And the other part disgusted by that same fascination. Some days I despised the contradictions of my mind and the darkness in my heart.

  “You don’t think Liza will be the one…” I stopped speaking, eyes fastened to Jian as he stepped up to the edge of the stage and lifted a hand to his face as if he were shielding his eyes from the sun. The dining saloon quieted a bit, but noise persisted.

  “A volunteer,” he grumbled, a slight accent apparent. “Now.”

  No one seemed inclined to offer themselves up as a potential sacrifice. And I couldn’t blame them. Who in possession of their logical senses would do such a thing? Jian’s mask glinted as he stalked to the opposite end of the stage. He glared at a table full of young gentlemen. “You are all cowards—not worthy of meeting my blades.” He turned to the assistants onstage. “Liza!”

  My cousin’s smile was frozen, though her throat bobbed and her knees locked, betraying her fear. She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Before I knew what I was doing, I was out of my seat, tossing my napkin onto my half-eaten food.

  “Wait!”

  “Ah.” Jian grinned, wide and toothy. “We have an assistant after all.”

  Even though I was standing, half ready to run across the stage and throw myself into that box of death, the knight’s gaze was not directed at me. He was looking across from where I stood, knees wobbling, to where Thomas was already making his way up the stairs and onto the stage, steps sure and unhurried. The precise opposite of my heartbeat. Everything inside my body went numb and prickly at once.

  “Thomas, please don’t.” I stared, hands clenched at my sides, as he paused before the coffin and, after winking at me over his shoulder, climbed inside.

  “Sit, dear,” Mrs. Harvey whispered, reaching for my arm. “You appear a little peaked, have some wine. It soothes the nerves.” She signaled to a waiter who poured a deep red blend from the carafe he held. I tried not to think of Miss Prescott’s blood as it sloshed into my cup. “There you are, be a good girl and take a few sips.”

  Without argument, I plopped back into my chair and took the proffered glass, bringing it to my lips, barely registering the sour-grape taste as it slid down my throat in quick drabs. I didn’t care much for wine, but it did distract me. Briefly. I dabbed at the corners of my mouth with a linen napkin, attention straying to where Thomas poked his head, arms, and feet out from the coffin-shaped box, then stayed perfectly still.

  Flashes of him lying dead on a morgue table assaulted my senses, and it took every last bit of my self-control to not rush the stage and drag him into my arms. The rational part of my brain knew with certainty that no harm would come to him. Carnivals were in the business of selling tickets and creating spectacles. Not murdering patrons.

  Even if that was precisely what had happened last night.

  I could not shake the tension from my limbs as Liza and the second assistant covered the wooden box with a lid, and nodded to Jian. I sat straighter, easing the boning from my center. The room suddenly felt hotter, and I wished to be outside on the deck, the icy winter air waltzing along beside me as it drifted through the covered promenade.

  Uncle huffed at the sight of Thomas shoved into the box, but I noticed the crease of worry that appeared between his brows. It did nothing to assuage my own fears. “Foolish boy.”

  I clutched my mother’s heart pendant hanging around my neck, ignoring the bite of metal in my palm. Thomas removed his arm from view, then brandished a card when he stuck his hand back out. I could have sworn the massive ship encountered turbulence as I swayed in my seat.

  People in the crowd laughed at the ridiculousness of Thomas’s disembodied arm fluttering the card about, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the enormous saw both assistants walked over to the knight. Metal teeth on the blade glinted, ready to sink into the wooden box—and Thomas’s flesh—should anything not go according to plan. Or perhaps his murder was the plan.

  A bead of sweat rolled down my spine. All it would take was one false move and his lifeblood would spill—

  “There, there, dear.” Mrs. Harvey patted my hand. I let my breath out and she smiled. “It’s only an illusion. What happened yesterday was terrible, but the odds of murder happening a second time, well, it’s simply not probable. Our Thomas knows what he’s doing. Hmm?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. I knew she was correct, but my heart didn’t want to listen to reason. It quickened at the thought of all the horrible things that could happen. Thomas knew what he was doing, even if what he was doing was an awful idea.

  Liza shot me an unreadable look over her shoulder. I tensed all over again as Jian lifted his saw above his head. I nearly ran for one of the kneeling performers, ready to seize one of their swords should Thomas be hurt.

  “You can see the blade is very real. Isabella, if you would. Demonstrate.” He nodded toward the second assistant. Isabella stepped forward and hacked at the saw with a sword she’d picked up from the table, the metal clanging for all to hear. I gritted my teeth at the noise. A young man at the next table covered his ears. “It is also very sharp. Liza?”

  My cousin flourished a filigree mask hidden on her person and set it on top of the box. Jian carefully sawed back and forth until it snapped in two. I tried not to dwell on the fact it had only taken three passes for the blade to break the metal in half—it was much too sharp to be anywhere near my beloved Cresswell.

  I took a deep, steadying breath as Jian prowled around the box, saw lifted proudly above his head. He stopped near where Thomas’s center would be, then motioned to Isabella. She picked her way across stage, grinning widely, hands planted firmly on her hips like a ballet dancer. She stood opposite the knight—apparently the sawing bit required two people. I twisted the napkin in my lap as Jian fit the blade into one side of the box and pushed it over to Isabella.

  “On the count of three,” he ordered. “One. Two. Three!”

  Metal on wood screeched in a scritch scratch, scritch scratch pattern, the blade sinking deeper and deeper into the box.

  Justice tarot

  SIX

  SAWN IN HALF

  DINING SALOON

  RMS ETRURIA

  2 JANUARY 1889

  I wanted to cover my eyes, run from the room, and toss myself overboard, but forced my body to sit and be still. Meanwhile, on the stage, Thomas’s hands and feet waved frantically as the saw got ever closer to his person.

  A few people turned away from the show, snapping their fans out and calling for smelling salts. Should this act fail, it would likely be the most gruesome sight
anyone here would ever witness, myself included. The aftermath of death and murder was difficult business, but actually watching it happen? I shut my eyes for a moment. I did not want to imagine the darkness that would be unleashed from myself if Thomas died on that stage.

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Harvey took a generous swig of her own wine. “It’s terribly lifelike, isn’t it? I would swear that blade was really cutting into him.”

  I clamped my jaw so tightly it ached. There were only a few more inches left and the saw would go through the center portion of the box. And through Thomas.

  Scritch scratch, scritch scratch.

  I mentally tallied where my medical bag was, how long it would take for me to sprint to my cabin in my evening gown and retrieve it, and if I’d have the skills necessary to sew him together. I hoped there was a surgeon on board. Someone more skilled than Dr. Arden, who was still sanctioned away with Chief Magistrate Prescott.

  Scritch scratch, scritch scratch.

  I held my breath as the saw struck the bottom of the wood, waiting for blood and viscera to gush out beneath the crack. Thomas stopped moving. My heart might have ceased as well. Murmurs went up around me, but the voices were indistinguishable noise as I stared, waiting to see Thomas bleed out.

  Nothing happened.

  Thomas’s hands and feet suddenly moved about as if a blade hadn’t sliced through his middle. I partially stood, ready to clap and have this be done, but apparently this nightmare wasn’t yet over. Jian and Isabella repeated the performance with another blade. Once it sawed down to the table, each of them took one side of the box and pulled it apart.

  I don’t remember having decided to do so, but I screamed. It was loud and terrible enough to make Uncle drop his fork and Mrs. Harvey fumble for her wineglass. The Knight of Swords laughed, the sound dark and ominous like a storm rolling over the sea.

  “A man sawn in two!”

  Another few people in the crowd screamed. I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to keep any more of my own shrieks from escaping. The two wide blades covered each end of the box, obscuring any spilled viscera from the audience’s view, though I logically knew there wasn’t anything to hide. My emotions won against logic, and panic settled under my ribs. Thomas’s hands. I focused on them and the card he still waved about. They were moving. He was moving. This was an illusion. A terrible trick.

  I blinked tears back, hating Thomas for doing this. Jian wheeled the two halves of my whole heart around the stage, proudly showing off his skill with a blade. After they did a complete turn, they pushed the box back together, then removed both saws. I gripped the edge of my seat, tethering myself to it to keep from flying up there to rip the coffin open and run my hands over Thomas.

  Liza brandished a black canvas sheet large enough to conceal the box. They covered it, walked around it once more, then ripped the sheet off with a snap. They lifted the lid and… nothing. Thomas didn’t emerge and his arms and legs were no longer visible. My heart thudded dully, the sounds in the room slowly becoming loud and silent at once. Part of me wished I’d thought of calling for smelling salts. Liza and Isabella exchanged worried glances that I didn’t think were part of the act. I stood, heart hammering.

  Jian sheathed the swords he’d been swirling about and stalked over to the box, hands fisted. Something was wrong. As he approached Thomas popped up like a jack-in-the-box, holding a second card, and Jian startled back.

  The audience cackled at the expression on the knight’s face—it was as sour as if he’d been sinking his teeth into tart lemons. Without warning, he yanked a thin sword from the sheath on his back, and plunged it directly through the center of the card, cutting off any more laughter.

  Thomas hopped out of the box, offering a quick bow before bounding down the stairs, his cheeks pleasantly flushed.

  “He looked rather annoyed by my performance,” he said, breathing a bit hard. “I thought it was a brilliant touch. A little laughter to balance out the fear.”

  Jian and his assistants exited the stage, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than a bit of frayed fabric on Thomas’s waistcoat. My blood felt as cold as ocean water as it surged through me. “You were cut.”

  Thomas brushed a piece of dampened hair back, but didn’t comment.

  Mephistopheles reemerged from the smoke like the devil he was. He smirked out at the passengers, then motioned behind the velvet curtains. On command, they pulled back, and Jian, Liza, and Isabella swept into deep bows and curtsies. The crowd whistled and cheered, some even took up stomping their feet again, while others removed the hothouse flowers from vases and tossed them onto the stage floor. I couldn’t find the will to join them.

  Instead, I watched the fire flash in the knight’s eyes. My friend had annoyed him and he did not seem like the sort who enjoyed being made to look foolish. A muscle in his jaw twitched when his attention settled on Thomas. I swore there was some silent promise that passed between the two of them when Thomas noticed his scrutiny.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mephistopheles said. “Seems no one has lost their heads tonight. But will you be as fortunate tomorrow? We shall consult the Wheel of Fortune and see. Good night!”

  Each performer stepped back just as the curtains drew to a close, disappearing from sight.

  I turned on Thomas, hands wrapped around my goblet to avoid strangling him. “Are you quite mad? You could have been hurt!”

  His gaze swept from my grip on my goblet to the tension in my jaw. He held his hands up, surrendering to my anger. “Easy now, Wadsworth. Perhaps we ought to move away from the cutlery and glass. I assure you I was perfectly safe.”

  I snorted. “Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be perfectly safe while being sawn in two? Especially after someone was murdered yesterday! How very foolish of me to worry.”

  “Audrey Rose,” Uncle warned. “Please control yourself until after dinner. I have enough to contend with after Liza’s performance.” He stood, tossing his napkin down. “In fact, I’m going to fetch her now. She’ll be joining you in your chambers.”

  With that, he strode out of the room. Mrs. Harvey promptly picked up her empty glass, staring into it as if it might transport her from the table. “Would you look at that,” she said, calling an attendant over to pull out her chair. “I find myself suddenly overcome with exhaustion. If you’ll excuse me.”

  I watched her go, too annoyed to contemplate being without a chaperone once more.

  “Well?” I asked. “What sort of deductions did you come to before climbing into that box to deem it safe?”

  He reached for my hand, then caught himself. While we were alone at our table, we were not secreted away in my chambers. His touching me in public would be most inappropriate.

  “That box had a false bottom. I noticed the slight seam in the wood, an extra few inches that weren’t necessary. Once I’d gotten a better look at it, I saw that I’d actually be lying directly below the box in a sub-box in the table.” He smiled tentatively. “It’s really quite ingenious. The design allows the box to be cut in half while my hands and feet protrude from the holes. Whoever engineered it is brilliant. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “You’d deduced all of that before lying in it?”

  “Mostly.” Thomas glanced at the tables that were slowly clearing of guests. Soon we’d be the only ones left. “It’s adorable when your nostrils flare so dramatically. There”—he grinned, dodging my swift kick under the table—“that’s the look. One day I’m going to have it captured by a grand portrait artist and hang it above the mantel in my study.”

  “I truly dislike you sometimes, Thomas James Dorin Cresswell.”

  “Even when I’m being valiantly heroic by sacrificing myself?” He removed the two cards from inside his suit jacket and waved them in front of me. “I’d wager you hate me less now.”

  “Marginally.” I plucked the cards from his grasp. One was an Ace of Clubs, the second was a hand-drawn tarot—Justice. I sighed and set the
m down. “What do you make of these?”

  “Well, the scales of justice appear wildly off-kilter. It seems too great a coincidence that Chief Magistrate Prescott’s daughter was slain. It’s worth looking into his background as a judge. Clearly, someone doesn’t find his rulings fair. It might be a good motive.” He tapped the playing card. “And the Ace of Spades is likely a distraction.”

  “What about the Ace of Clubs left on Miss Prescott’s body?” I countered. “Maybe the tarot card is the distraction.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Perhaps they’re both meant as decoys. Or maybe these simply were misplaced. I believe we ought to search—”

  A terrible ruckus interrupted us. It sounded as if a stampede of elephants had gotten loose and was charging through the corridors. Which, given the presence of the carnival, wasn’t entirely out of the question. Confused, I twisted in my seat, watching a few people run past the open door as waiters stuck their heads out.

  Dread slithered through my limbs. People running with tears streaming down their faces were never a good sign. Whatever they were terrified of had to be quite bad indeed. They’d just seen a young man cut in half and had barely stopped eating their entrées.

  “Hurry,” Thomas said, gently taking my arm and rushing us toward the door. “If it’s what I fear… there might be time to save the person.”

  “Wait!” I wrenched free and ran to the nearest table, grabbing a knife. “Better to be prudent.”

  Thomas wrapped his hand around mine and we moved as quickly as we could against the tide of passengers heading the opposite way. I kept the knife pointed down and close to my side. I’d never seen the promenade so crowded, and what had felt like a comfortable walking deck now felt like a funnel.

  Men in top hats bobbed back and forth, some escorting their families away from the chaos and others diving into it. A few times my hand almost slipped from Thomas’s, but he was right there again, placing his body before mine as a barrier. People jostled him, but he steered us to where the crowd was the thickest.