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RMS ETRURIA
5 JANUARY 1889
I tucked my hand into the crook of Thomas’s arm and tried not to gawk at the transformation of the ship as we made our way down the now-crowded promenade. The public rooms and long covered deck of first class had been re-dressed as if they were private carnival tents in a floating bazaar.
The gentlemen’s smoke room was filled with warped looking glasses; the dining saloon boasted tightrope walkers and acrobats and… clowns. I shuddered at their garish face paint, deciding I’d much rather splice open a bloated corpse than be locked in a room with a single clown. I sped up, not wishing to linger anywhere near them, and Thomas chuckled. I flashed him my finest scowl, which only made him laugh harder.
“Removing intestines before luncheon is all right, but clowns are where your limits end?” he asked. “You never cease to amaze me, Wadsworth. What if I dressed up like one and knocked at your door later? Do you think you’d faint into my ruffle-sleeved arms? Reviving you might be worth the makeup and silly costume.”
“Don’t make me sneak spiders into your cabin,” I said. “I am not above dirty warfare.”
“You delightfully cruel woman.” His eyes practically danced with mischief. “What does it say about me that I find myself even more attracted to you after that threat?”
“It means you are as darkly twisted as I am, my friend.”
We continued down the promenade and paused to watch Sebastián, the contortionist, twist his body in ways that boggled my anatomy-centered mind. He lifted his chin in hello and scuttled across the deck as if he were an arachnid. I laughed aloud as Thomas hurried us away.
I couldn’t stop the double beat of my heart when we came upon the newly transformed music room. An ornately lettered sign sat propped out front that promised secrets of the past, present, and future to be divined by THE AMAZING ANDREAS; MYSTIC AND SEER OF ALL FORTUNES.
He hadn’t included his tarot namesake, the Fool, in his title—a smart choice considering I doubted that would attract many believers. I stopped walking, forcing Thomas to come to a halt, as I recalled another time I’d encountered someone with claims of seeing into the future. During the Ripper investigation a man named Robert James Lees had offered his assistance to Scotland Yard, claiming he’d had direct communication with one of the victims. Not wanting to miss a potential clue, Thomas and I had traveled to his home, taking him up on his offer to divine secrets of the recently deceased.
Chills meandered down my spine—I had a feeling it wasn’t due to the cold ocean breeze snaking down the open-air corridors. Mr. Lees had claimed to have spoken with my mother—and as much as I disbelieved such nonfactual nonsense, I’d found what I’d been looking for just as my mother’s spirit had told him. Whether it was luck or pure coincidence, there was something to it. Or at least something worth investigating. Perhaps I might unearth a clue for this investigation, one that might end these murders for good.
On a ship filled with devilish debauchery, hope seemed to be the deadliest sin of them all. I felt it tugging me forward, taunting and teasing me with the promise of something I knew to be impossible. Andreas was a showman, not a diviner. He could no more tell me who killed those women than he could bring forth my mother. Thomas inspected the sign I was transfixed by and then my face. He smiled sadly, dissecting my emotions and deducing their root. In times like this, I was grateful for his uncanny ability to read my moods.
“Would you like to have your future read by the Amazing Andreas?” he asked.
“You don’t believe in fate or fortunes.”
“No, I don’t.” He grinned at my exasperated expression. How one man could be utterly charming in one instant and sharp as a blade in the next was utterly maddening. “I’ll meet you back here in a little while.”
I peered into the black-and-white-striped curtains that hung in place of a door, biting my lip. “Is that a polite way of saying you’ll not be joining me? What about Uncle’s proclamation that you must escort me everywhere? A leash only extends so far, you know.”
“I will never be your keeper, Audrey Rose.” Any traces of humor vanished. Thomas lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, causing my heart to race for a new reason. “Plus, it’s a magnanimous gesture to not distract either yourself or the Amazing Andreas with my own exemplary skills at divining the future.” He laughed when I rolled my eyes. “That and I saw a stand on the main deck selling pastry fried in melted butter and doused in sugar.”
“You’re abandoning me for sweets,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “How magnanimous indeed.”
“Don’t be jealous of pastry, my love. Its golden crust and buttery taste cannot compare to your delectable personality. Much.” Thomas eyed the sign once more, lips twitching upward. “All right… let’s make a bargain, since those things seem to be all the craze here. I’ll give you five minutes to get settled and another ten for the Amazing Andreas to call forth the ghosties and convince them to stay for a spot of tea and a chat. Then I’ll return.”
“How is that a bargain?” I asked.
“It’s not, really. I was seeing if you were paying attention.” I leveled a severe look at him, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. “A joke. You know… those things I’m horrid at but am practicing nonetheless?” When he leaned in, his lips grazing my ear, there wasn’t anything humorous about the desire that shot through me. “Perhaps I’ll bring you back a treat, too.”
I smiled sweetly. “Here I thought simply being in your presence was treat enough.” Before he could entertain himself with another of his witticisms, I swept open the striped drapes and stepped inside the fortune-teller’s lair.
Inside, a crystal chandelier hung from a ceiling that seemed to reach forever. Layers of lush black-and-white silk gathered around the light fixture, pinned back in a way to give the appearance of being under a huge tent. Silver candles dripped wax onto wrought-iron candelabras evenly spaced throughout the interior of the room.
From the shadows Andreas emerged. I took a sharp breath. His mask was the color of fresh blood and reminded me of a skull that had been recently boiled of its flesh. He stood there a moment, not moving at all, allowing me an opportunity to drink him in. He wore a navy tailcoat embroidered with silver constellations and black trousers and gloves.
He bent at the waist, blond hair pale enough that it was almost white. “Pardon my entrance, Miss Wadsworth. My soul travels the in-between, restless and wandering,” he said in accented English. “In constant search of the past, present, and future, I find time to be an idle wave.” I tried puzzling that out and failed. “I am the Amazing Andreas. Welcome to my chamber of divination.”
“It’s good to see you again.” I bobbed my head in greeting and fully entered the room. Pillows edged in silver fringe sat piled in clusters, though there were also stools and chairs and tables. Elaborate incense burners hung in tiered layers in one corner, filling the room with a spicy and enticing scent. It reminded me of Mephistopheles. I bit my lip, unsure of where to go. Lounging on the floor felt too indecent, though I supposed being alone with a masked man was debasing enough.
; “Sit, please.”
The Amazing Andreas gestured to a rather large looking glass. It leaned against the wall, tall and somehow slightly foreboding for such an unassuming piece of furniture.
