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A cloud floated past the moon, darkening the skies for a moment. It was midnight and I’d already been warned about those types of bargains.
He leaned in, his gaze locked on to mine. “Do we have a deal?”
Late nineteenth-century circus performers
TWELVE
DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
BOW
RMS ETRURIA
3 JANUARY 1889
His gloved finger ghosted over my cheek, never directly touching it, but making my pulse speed up nonetheless. I did want my cousin to come home. I wanted her to be happy and free from judgment. But I knew I was wading in murky waters. Just because I saw how much devastation her choice would cause did not grant me the right to choose for her.
Love was a tricky, complicated thing—so morally gray. Both grand and terrible things were often done in its honor. But could something truly be done out of love if it had the potential to hurt the one at its heart? I wavered.
“Sounds like a fair deal, does it not?” he said. “All you have to do is participate in the finale—without telling a soul what you’re doing—and everything you desire will be yours. I’ll even give you those lessons in sleight of hand I’d originally promised. Since you have become somewhat of a celebrity in London society, your presence will lend credibility to my scientific work; my assistance will save your cousin. What do you stand to lose?”
His opening words came to mind immediately, “Which will you lose before the week is through? Your heart? Your head? Perhaps you, too, will lose your life, your very soul.” The shadows near us loomed closer. My heart banged around. The bargain sounded too simple, too easy, for me to agree to. Which meant there was some hidden benefit for Mephistopheles and some detriment to me. I studied his carefully composed expression.
“I…”
“Yes?” Somehow he’d managed to move again without my noticing. He smelled of a sultry, spicy incense. Hints of ginger and citrus mixed with careful notes of vanilla and lavender surrounded us. I resisted the urge to breathe it in deeply. His gaze traveled across my features, openly examining me.
“All I have to do is go onstage during the finale?”
“More or less.” He smiled. “I’m still working out the details.”
Technically Liza would simply be learning the truth, then she’d form her own decision based on facts presented to her. Nothing would be hidden. If she still chose to stay with the carnival and Houdini, then I would not interfere again, though I’m sure Uncle would have much to say regarding that. My palms tingled. I was only bartering for information. I was not forcing her hand or making a choice for her. And all I had to do was show up onstage for his foolish grand finale; it was hardly a taxing proposition. Still…
“Do we have a bargain, Miss Wadsworth?”
Indecision stopped gripping my mind. I could not sit in the comfort of safety, not when the risk was too great to my cousin. That was moral obligation enough. “If I accept your offer—I’ll need more details of what Harry Houdini has hidden. No lies.”
Mephistopheles crossed his heart. “No lies.”
I bit my lip, praying curiosity wasn’t getting the better of me. “Then I accept your bargain.”
Mephistopheles lifted one side of his mouth, and my heart sped in protest. His look didn’t promise there wouldn’t be regrets involved. Quite the contrary. It was too late of a warning, though. I’d already made a deal with the Devil and now I’d see it through.
“What information do you have on Houdini?”
“There’s a woman in America he writes to. Very often.” He shook his head. “I don’t have to be a detective inspector to figure out how much he loves her. Every town or city we pass through, he sends off another letter.” His expression turne
d from smug to pained. “Even after he met Liza, the letters have never ceased. I fear that, well, to be honest, I know he hasn’t mentioned it to her.”
The scoundrel! In love with another woman, sending her notes from each adventure—and all behind my dear cousin’s back. I closed my eyes, hoping to dull the anger. Pretending I didn’t know what a lying rogue he was would be difficult, especially when I longed to disembowel him.
“Why do you care about Liza’s reputation?” I inspected the ringmaster’s face, searching for any hint to his true motivation. Like most everything else about him, his expression was carefully controlled, giving me nothing but a slight smirk to go on. A smirk with just the right hint of innocence to make the trouble seem worth the risk. “What does that matter to you?”
“It doesn’t. I simply need to give my show a boost, and as the passengers are aware of your forensic background, you, my dear, will play along and claim my tricks are truly magical. If you, an expert in your field, are convinced, then my reputation will improve. Something I’m in desperate need of as bodies keep showing up during or after my shows. This information is strictly a bargaining chip—one I’d not use if I didn’t have need to do so.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Don’t appear so chafed. I already told you, I’m not a decent man.”
I drew in a measured breath. No, he wasn’t. “You do realize how impossible it’s going to be—convincing passengers that magic exists—don’t you?”
Mephistopheles held a hand up. “I don’t believe your job will be as difficult as all that, Miss Wadsworth. Your lovely presence at the right time in the finale is all that I’ll need.”
