“—found out he was actually interested in you?” He laughed. “I’ve never seen someone so small throw such a fit. She trashed her costume, and nearly tossed a shoe through Andreas’s magic mirror.” His attention turned to my untouched drink. I handed it over and he gulped it down in one greedy drab. “Now that would’ve been something to see.”
“Would Andreas get violent?”
Behind his mask, I could have sworn his eyes dilated. “I mean it would have broken his heart.” He fixed another drink and swayed in place. “Anyway, Cassie’s not mad at you. If she’s angry at anyone it’s Mephistopheles. He’d better watch himself—she’s the type to teach lessons. You should have seen that last guy.” He shook his head. “He’d have been better off with the lions.”
I tried not to watch her too closely. She was now backing the same young man against the wall, kissing down his neck. It was much too intimate a moment to intrude upon, even though she had no qualms of making a show of it.
“That’s Sebastián.”
“The contortionist?”
“That and he’s her husband.” Jian chuckled at my stunned expression.
Someone chose that moment to shoot a light out. I threw myself to the ground, hands over my head as glass rained down and the room got that much darker. Performers whooped at the dimmer lighting. My pulse thrashed about as I slowly stood. This was madness. Completely unfazed by the growing debauchery, Jian tossed his next drink back, then staggered over to the fountain. I feared if he drank anything else, I’d not get any useful information from him. Shoving my own nervousness aside, I hurried after him.
“Cassie and Sebastián are married?” I asked. “He must have been furious about Mephistopheles.”
A motive to destroy the carnival if ever there was one. Might they be a murderous duo? I stared as they clawed at each other’s clothing. Jealousy was a powerful motive for anyone. And each of them might be suffering from it. Sebastián because his wife had so openly pursued another man, and Cassie for so openly being cast aside. I wanted to rush to Thomas and tell him every last theory sprouting up in my mind, but the cursed bargain prevented me from doing that.
“They both do as they please and it works for them.” Jian looked at me through half-lidded eyes. “Hey… you haven’t finished your drink.” I didn’t bother pointing out that he’d done that for me twice. “Lesss make a toasss.”
“Maybe we ought to hold off until next time,” I suggested. His slurring was much worse. He waved me off and went about making two more drinks, concentrating as if the fate of the world depended on this potion. I would have been more amused if I wasn’t worried the persons responsible for three deaths were passionately embracing in the corner.
Jian poured a knuckle of green liquid into each glass, then managed to place slotted spoons over them without knocking the glasses over. A miracle, considering the state he was in. Next he placed sugar cubes on the spoons, set them ablaze, and maneuvered everything over to the water fountain after the flame extinguished.
Lining the spigots up with the sugar, he twisted them on. Ice water dripped slowly, disintegrating the sugar as it fell into the awaiting liquor. The pale green color shifted to an opaque smoke, reminding me of a forbidden brew. It finally clicked what it was. Absinthe.
Intrigued, I accepted the glass, holding it up to the dim light. It was all the rage in both upper-class houses and bawdy clubs; some claimed it offered hallucinations, but that was only true if extra wormwood had been added to it. I bit my lip. I wanted to try it very badly, but I also needed to act responsibly and gather clues.
Someone stepped up beside me, but a lot of people jostled about. I didn’t pay them any mind. “Are you going to pretend to drink that?” I snapped my attention around. Cassie raised her brows. “Or do you need some help?”
“I haven’t pretended to drink anything.”
“Maybe not.” She studied me. “But there are other things you’re pretending, aren’t there?” Her attention left me briefly and I didn’t have to follow her gaze to know she was speaking of the ringmaster. “You might be acting at infatuation, but he’s not.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t detect any malice in her words—if anything, there was almost a sense of camaraderie, like we were sisters in battle, fighting against wicked men. I lifted the glass to my lips. “I appreciate your advice,” I said, “but I really am enjoying my time here.”
I went to toss back the drink as I’d seen Jian do several times when a hand shot out and covered the rim. My lips pressed against the crescent moon–stitched glove and I drew back as if I’d been burned. Mephistopheles shook his head. “This might be a little too magical for you, Miss Wadsworth. I’d like to return you to your chambers in one piece. Heaven forbid Thomas Cresswell comes challenging me to a duel.”
He held my stare and I could have sworn there was true concern in his face. I politely removed his hand from my glass, aware of our audience. I had no doubt he was, too. Which was precisely why he shouldn’t have mentioned Thomas. “Have a drink with me.”
“It’s late.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself.”
Before he could utter another word, I gulped my drink down. It was most unladylike and barbarous. I loved it. It tasted of licorice and burned pleasantly on the way down, different from wine in the sense of the warmth that spread from my stomach to my limbs. My body felt as if it was as light as air. Muffled sounds grew louder. Colors richer. Someone laughed close by and I giggled along with them for no good reason at all.
“Come, let’s get you to bed.” Mephistopheles gently took my arm, his brow creased. He really was quite good at all this pretend stuff. He almost had me convinced he cared.
I wriggled out of his grasp, grabbing a handful of my petticoats as I darted away. The coarse material felt amazing beneath my touch and I suddenly wanted to prance around the room, kicking my legs up. No wonder everyone appeared so happy—this elixir was pure magic. A woman wearing a full mask stuck her hand out, waving me over. Several women had their arms linked, throwing kicks in unison. Suddenly, it was the most logical thing to do.
Without hesitation, I hooked my arm around hers and joined in the fun. My heart thundered in my chest, alive and boisterous. I’d never felt so untethered before, so free from judgment and restraint. My entire family would balk at my behavior; for all I knew Thomas would even be puzzled. But I didn’t care. Not about any of that darkness. Murder. Crime. Sadness. Loss. I pretended each emotion was a balloon that needed to be released into the universe, and I let it all go.
I kicked my legs higher each time I switched feet, ignoring the fact I was exposing more skin than I’d ever shown in public before. I closed my eyes, becoming one with the rhythm around me. This was how it felt to truly be free.
Two large hands clasped my waist, lifting me in the air. I laughed and shook my skirts, a thrill going through me. Liza had been right—having a bit of fun didn’t detract from the seriousness of the evening, but it was a fantastic way of coping with it. Death surrounded me, but life did, too. In these stolen moments, I appreciated just how alive I was.
Lips pressed close to my ear and I instinctively arched into the touch, momentarily forgetting where I was and who I was with. I was lowered to the ground and I spun the second my slippers touched down, grinning. Mephistopheles’s eyes widened in shock and he abruptly stumbled back. I was having too much fun to be disappointed he wasn’t who I imagined.
“Would you please do that again?” I asked. He hesitated briefly, then brought me near and twirled me away, his cockiness returning as he lifted me above the dance floor. I held my hands out to either side as he spun us around. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”
He placed me back down, eyes filled with mirth. “If a fairy tale is what you’re after, I’ll put a curse on you and lock you in a coffin or tower of your choosing. Then I’ll kiss you awake and we’ll live happily ever after. That’s how those things work, you know.”
I shook
my head. “You’re really charming, aren’t you?”
“That would be Prince Charming to you, Miss Wadsworth.”
We didn’t speak again for what felt like hours, but I danced and laughed and had almost convinced myself that a future in a carnival wouldn’t be the worst fate after all.
SEVENTEEN
SOMETHING IN THE CARDS
AUDREY ROSE’S CABIN
RMS ETRURIA
5 JANUARY 1889
I was up before the sun, peering out the porthole in my cabin, watching the nearly black waters turn gold as it rose and stretched across the horizon. The sea was choppy, promising a winter storm in the next day or so. I turned around and couldn’t stop a smile from forming. Liza slept soundly, her limbs tangled up in the covers and her hair spilling around her like drizzled caramel. I still could not believe we’d sneaked into the carnival’s party, and that I’d actually danced the cancan. It was reckless and the memory provoked worry. Not over what I’d done, but rather how much I’d enjoyed it. I only wished Thomas could have joined us.
Pushing that out of my mind, I quietly moved to the small vanity in my room, leafing through the notes of parchment I’d written out sometime after we’d returned to our cabin. I included every last odd occurrence that had happened since we’d boarded the Etruria.
On one scrap of parchment I had “Miss Arden murdered, likely poisoned, though evidence was indeterminable. Playing card found prior to body onstage: Ace of Spades. Connected? Father a physician. Tarot card enactment: Seven of Swords.”
On another, “Stolen bolts of silk, scarves.”
On a third sheet I’d written, “Miss Crenshaw murdered by poison. No playing card found. Tarot card enactment: the Star.”
From my meager attempt at sorting out the tarot card meanings, the best I could come up with for the Star was “transformation.” How that fit in with the case and murder was beyond me.
The next piece of paper said, “Miss Prescott—first to be murdered, stabbed. Playing card found: Ace of Clubs. Father a chief magistrate. Tarot card enactment: Ten of Swords. Betrayal. Quite literally, stabbed in the back.”
I sat back, fingers tapping over the papers. There had to be something there, something that tied them all together. Or perhaps there were two separate mysteries coexisting. One person was committing petty burglaries; another was murdering women as if they were tarot cards sprung to life. My skin crawled like beetles in a grave. I knew Thomas was correct about criminals using the ships for anonymous passage between continents, but could there truly be two criminals aboard our vessel? I supposed it wasn’t out of the question—two out of a few hundred passengers wasn’t that high a number at all.
What I wanted to do next was gain entry to Miss Crenshaw’s cabin. After the discovery of chocolate cake in her stomach, I wanted to compare a sample from her room.
Someone knocked lightly on my door and, assuming it was either a tea service or an attendant, I opened it. I clutched my dressing gown closed, narrowing my eyes. A quick glance over my shoulder found my cousin still lightly snoring, her breaths deep and even.
“It’s a bit early to be calling on me, Cresswell.” I tugged him inside, peering down the deck to be sure he hadn’t been seen. “People will think you’ve spent the night here.” I studied the curve of his lips and the widening of his eyes. Fiend. “Which is precisely what you’re hoping for.”
“You injure me with that accusation, Wadsworth. Must I always have ulterior motives?” He lifted his hand to his heart, staggering a bit. “Perhaps I was simply bringing you tea.”
“Oh? Is that what you were doing?” I stared pointedly at his empty hands. “Forget it. You’re here and that’s actually perfect. Come look at these. But be quiet.” I indicated the random clues, trying to ignore the fact I was in a dressing robe and we were in a bedchamber. At least we weren’t alone. If he started kissing me, I’m not sure I’d wish to stop. I’d missed him immensely last night. “Do you see any pattern or formula with these?”
Thomas removed his top hat and was across the room in a few short, long-limbed strides. He pushed the papers around the desk, frowning a bit at one. “Miss Prescott was murdered on night one, but Miss Crenshaw went missing before we set sail. The order in which we find the bodies doesn’t necessarily indicate the order in which they were murdered.”
“Thomas,” I said, a new idea sprouting, “will you teach me how to place myself in the mind-set of a murderer? Like how you did the first time we met?”
He strummed his fingers against his thighs. “In your uncle’s class?”
“Yes,” I said, attention shooting over to my still-sleeping cousin, “when you pretended as if you were Jack the Ripper and had gutted the first victim. I want to learn to do that. It’s not much different than all of the magic in the carnival, is it?”
Thomas looked at me strangely. “I suppose they both include a certain level of playacting, but I’d like to think my method is a bit more scientific than the man swinging swords about.”
“Still, I’d like—” Another knock came at the door and I swallowed my words as quickly as Anishaa had gulped down those flames. I started shoving Thomas toward my trunk, not knowing where else to stash him. Liza stirred, but didn’t wake. “Get in there… quickly!”
Without much argument, Thomas folded himself into the trunk—an impressive feat given his tall stature—and I tossed one of my gowns over the top, hoping to hide him under the tentlike skirts. I smoothed down the front of my dressing gown, cracking the door an inch.
Mephistopheles leaned against the doorjamb, gaze dropping to my robe. I felt my breath leave my body in a whoosh as if I’d been punched. This was the worst possible situation. I could not let Thomas overhear our conversation because of the bargain, and I could not admit to the ringmaster that a young man was already in my chambers. If Mephistopheles said anything about the cancan last night, I was certain Thomas wouldn’t let the subject drop until I fessed up.
“Hello, Miss Wadsworth. Were you expecting someone else? You seem like you’ve swallowed an egg.”
He made to invite himself in, but I held my arm out stiffly. “What are you doing here?”
“Good day to you, as well,” he said. “It’s amazing—you have no issue with our meeting in darkened nooks on the ship, or coming to my cabin at indecent hours, but heaven forbid I initiate a private meeting. The shame.”
“If you wish to speak with me,” I said, keeping my voice low, “then we shall pick a place to meet. In public. Preferably when I am decently dressed and have a chaperone.”
“Was Liza acting as your chaperone last night?” He peered around me, making a show of inspecting my quarters. “Are you hiding a secret lover I ought to be aware of?”
“I’m in the process of buffing my scalpels,” I said, indicating the medical bag on my nightstand. “If you’re not careful, I might use those blades on your sparkly suits.”
“Threats are unbecoming and don’t suit you.” He sniffed, feigning hurt. He turned to leave, then pivoted back. Even at dawn he wore a mask, reflecting the orangey reds of the rising sun.
“Oh, and you ought to tell Mr. Cresswell to remember his hat. I see it’s sitting out on that vanity of yours. Wouldn’t want anyone to have the wrong impression, now, would you? Thank goodness your cousin is pretending to sleep, else people might really start talking.”
Before I could deny or claim it as my own, the ringmaster stuck his hands in his pockets and walked swiftly down the promenade. The sound of his sullen whistling added to the chorus of wind and waves. I curled my hands into fists, wishing I could muster up loathing him. Having two young men around who felt the compulsion to share each annoying observation they made was enough to drive anyone mad.
Once the door clicked shut, Thomas pushed the dress aside, brows raised. “Now might be a good time to discuss Mephistopheles, especially since your uncle has asked me to watch after you. What’s so important that he needs to call on you at this hour? Doesn’t he kno
w that level of impropriety is strictly my area of expertise?”
I walked over to him, bent down, and cupped his face in my hands, relishing the feel of his warm skin without a layer of silk between us. “We will discuss everything soon, I promise. But right now I need to get dressed and you need to leave before someone finds you here.”
After sneaking another glance at my “slumbering” cousin, I pressed my lips to his, soft and gentle at first, then let go of polite restraint. Thomas didn’t seem to mind the distraction; he pulled me near as our kiss deepened. With great effort, I kissed him gently, then sat back on my heels. It was most decidedly my favorite form of sleight of hand.
“We wouldn’t want anyone to have the wrong impression,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “They’d assume we were in here kissing.”
“We wouldn’t want that, now.” Thomas shook his head, and somehow we were kissing again. “It would be highly indecent. Being almost alone. In the room of the girl I want to marry. The one who keeps refusing me.”
“Thomas… I… you know I’m not refusing you,” I said. “I want to do this the correct way. My father deserves to be included. Please don’t think it indicates hesitation on my part, I’d—”
“A wedding?” Liza popped up from the covers, eyes wide with delight. “I must help plan it! What season are you thinking? Spring would be divine. The flowers, pastels! Winter is also breathtaking in the right application. Your black hair would look gorgeous against ice blues and whites.”
“A wedding, elopement. I am in favor of any season or occasion.” He hopped out of the trunk, then helped me stand, giving me a chaste kiss. After he plucked his top hat up from the vanity, he smiled. “We will worry about the details later.” He glanced back at the table of clues I’d laid out. “In the interim, I’ll see what I can figure out about those. Maybe some connection will make itself known. Oh, and Liza?” He turned a grin on her. “I look rather breathtaking in pale colors. Spring is just around the corner, too. Perhaps you might start there.”