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I closed my eyes. Suddenly a new image sprang into my head. I felt as though I were Thomas Cresswell, traveling into the mind of a murderer once more. In my mind I saw a girl with a sweet smile and kind eyes. A girl who didn’t have much but made the most of her simple life. A girl who’d captured the heart of the young man before us.
“Lord Crensh
aw had your betrothed arrested, didn’t he?” I asked, venturing a step closer. Andreas didn’t answer. “Mr. Prescott is the chief magistrate who sentenced her without a fair trial.” I shook my head. “Conditions in prisons are atrocious. Your betrothed got sick there. Something that could have been treatable, but Dr. Arden refused to tend to her in the workhouse.”
“It all started with that horrible woman.” Andreas clenched his teeth so hard he all but growled the words. “Confessed right before drinking the poison I’d laid out. Said she couldn’t live with what had happened to her daughter. She’d overpaid for the flowers, even though Liesel tried to refuse.” His expression turned colder than the winter sea slapping against the ship. “Her husband confronted her over missing money and she claimed it must have been that thieving flower girl. The one with the funny accent. Lady Crenshaw knew how her husband would react—apparently he’s got a history of locking people away.”
Andreas turned his furious gaze in my direction, grip lessening. “They killed her. All of them.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “They took my beloved from me, so I took what they cared about most in return. An eye for an eye. I will not stop until they’ve tasted from the well of despair that I’ve been drowning in these past few months.”
A noble family. A doctor. A chief magistrate. Six of Diamonds. Ace of Spades. Five of Hearts. Ace of Clubs. Their roles, laid out. Seven of Swords, the Star—punishments fitting their crimes. A story of jealously, love, loss, betrayal, and revenge.
He wrapped the garrote more tightly around Thomas’s neck, and I could have sworn I felt the phantom sensation of losing my own breath. My world seemed on the brink of annihilation.
“Each of them murdered her. All of their hands are dirty, stained in blood. Everyone gets their hands dirty in this business, right, boss? You taught me that. Even you betrayed me. You sent me out to fetch those flowers that day. Without you I wouldn’t have met Liesel and she’d still be alive in Bavaria. This cursed carnival should burn. And after this voyage? After this I don’t think even you can recover, Mephistopheles. Though I do thank you for that money; without it, none of this would have been possible.”
“Money?” I asked, glancing between them. “What money?”
Andreas looked at me, eyes narrowed. “I arranged for them all to receive paid first-class passage on this ship. Our glorious ringmaster felt so bad about Liesel, he agreed to give me a handsome sum for her grave marker. Being as she is dead, I didn’t think she’d mind me using the money to avenge her. See?” he said, momentarily letting up on the garrote. “My hands are filthy now, boss.”
“Oh, Andreas.” Mephistopheles slowly shook his head. “I never meant… that wasn’t the point of my story. I was speaking of living well as the best revenge. And getting your hands dirty—that’s just stage talk. Not something literal. My hands are usually covered in grease from engineering new mechanisms. Not the blood of innocents.”
“‘Innocents’? Haven’t you been paying attention? None of them was innocent!” Andreas shook his head. “What world could I ever live in after they killed my love? The only thing keeping me going is the thought of vengeance, making those men pay. My hands are no more stained than the hands of those who are in supposed good standing in society. How many others have they killed, and yet they still walk free? How many lives destroyed by their whims?”
Murmurs went up from the crowd. With Thomas gasping for breath, I’d again forgotten the audience was watching every moment of this. I was focused on two things: the steady war-drum beat of my heart, and the realization that I’d fight a thousand battles and die a thousand ways before I allowed any harm to befall my love. Andreas would be revealing his spectacular spectacle soon, especially now that his whole plan had been laid bare.
“But… you didn’t kill those men,” I said, maneuvering closer. “You murdered their daughters, and Mrs. Prescott.”
Andreas barely flicked his gaze in my direction. “I hurt them where it did the most damage. Once each of those men has lost everything he’s ever loved, that’s when this will be made right. Leaving Prescott and Lord Crenshaw alive is the best form of torture for them. Let them live out their days in misery. As they did for me.”
“You cannot take justice into your own hands,” Mephistopheles said. “You should have told the detective inspectors.”
Andreas snorted. “If you believe they would investigate the death of a poor, sick flower girl from the slums, and put the rich men who killed her behind bars, then you’re as bad as they are. Justice is only given to the powerful, and that’s not really justice, is it?”
Thomas’s eyes rolled back and he began to go limp. The audience gasped, and I involuntarily took a step forward, then halted at Andreas’s command, brimming with anguish and frustration.
I cried out as Andreas released the garrote, but my relief was short-lived when his knife flashed in the bright lights. Someone screamed behind us, but I shut out all distractions, my focus set only on the blade. He’d swiftly removed the new weapon from his boot, eyes trained on Thomas, who was struggling to draw in breath. He was going to kill Thomas, then do the same to me and Mephistopheles as his grand finale.
Soft whistling from the rafters drew my attention; I glanced up beyond the maimed body of Dr. Arden as it twisted on the rope, where Cassie and Sebastián stood near their trapezes. They pointed to Andreas and a large bag of whatever they held, signaling their plan. Mephistopheles and I wouldn’t be alone in our attack. We’d likely tackle Andreas before any true harm could be done to us, or Cassie and Sebastián would drop the sack and knock him out, but Thomas…
Sounds of diners crying faded into one throbbing pulse—the beat of my heart, the only rhythm urging me on. Andreas was going to slay Thomas right before my very eyes. He saw him as just another wealthy elitist, one more problem in a broken system.
I would never allow Cresswell to become the final showpiece in his warped finale.
For a moment, all of us were frozen in a horrifying tableau. Then Andreas drew his leg back and kicked Thomas halfway across the stage. I knew he was giving himself room to show off his knife skills. My entire body felt as if it had been dunked in ice, then immediately set ablaze. In that moment, watching Thomas stagger and fall to his knees, I understood with startling clarity what Andreas had been through watching Liesel die needlessly.
There was no world I wanted to live in where Thomas Cresswell wasn’t a part of it. No matter the odds stacked against us, I’d fight for him until I drew in my last, shuddering breath. Even in death I’d never stop coming for those who threatened my family. Because that’s what Thomas had become. He was mine—I’d chosen him just as he’d chosen me, and I’d defend him with everything I had. Our friendship had caught fire and blazed with something powerful and untamed. Something I’d been foolish to ever doubt.
“No!” Cries and shouts went up around me, and I could have sworn I heard the performers charging their friend. A bag of resin missed its target and smashed onto the stage, the powder puffing out like one of Mephistopheles’s smoke entrances. I ignored it all, my focus as sharp as a bone saw.
Andreas raised his knife, and I knew he’d fling it into Thomas’s chest. He’d been practicing with Jian all week, and his aim had gotten frighteningly true.
I didn’t think. I didn’t need to. I simply needed to act. I’d been practicing sleight of hand all week, never realizing that I would apply those tactics in a moment such as this. My body was in motion without a second thought.
I slipped my hand under my skirts, seized the scalpel strapped there, and threw it as hard and fast as I could. I didn’t bother aiming, there was no point. I wasn’t a marksman, nor did I possess Jian’s skills. I would not hit a moving target. But the smashing of the precious looking glass would land the deepest blow anyway. Just like murdering the wives and daughters of his enemies inflicted the most pain.
The sound of glass shattering caused the moment of distraction I’d hoped it would, a moment I pressed to my ad
vantage like any magician worth her salt in tricks.
