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“I promise I will not say anything to him for now. I’ll act as though everything is well. Heaven forbid the King of Cards have any distractions before his next stunt.” Liza purposely glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late for your meeting with Anishaa and Mephistopheles. He’s never alone for long, Harry often meets with him after breakfast. Which will only give you a few minutes with him. Here.” She pulled out the stool by my vanity. “Sit and I’ll braid your hair.”
I stared at my cousin a beat more, wanting to crack the wall she’d suddenly built around herself, but sat instead. She ran a silver-handled brush through my hair, twisting and pulling it into shape. I pretended not to notice the single tear that streaked down her cheek as she fastened tiny red buds into my hair, or the way her eyes purposely refused to meet mine in the looking glass. It seemed I wasn’t the only member of my family keeping secrets on this voyage now.
Ocean mist sprayed over the railing of the boat, forcing me to walk closer to the cabin side of the promenade to avoid catching a worse chill. With Liza’s assistance I’d changed into a more elaborate day dress—a long-sleeved deep burgundy velvet overlaid with delicate black lace. I’d added kidskin gloves and a dark cloak. I looked like a splatter of dried blood. Which was quite fitting, considering what I was about to do. Sacrifice was messy business.
What Liza hadn’t seen me add was the leather belt fastened at my thigh and the scalpel I’d stuck in it. The weapon belt was a design I’d had crafted in Romania for myself, the best Christmas gift to date. My fingers brushed down the front of my bodice, comforted by the knowledge of my blade, though the plan formulating in my head was much less soothing.
It was brash and risky, but the reward would outweigh the peril. I hoped. I hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with Thomas, so I was depending on his ability to glean truth from subtle clues. Hopefully he wouldn’t be hindered by Mephistopheles’s jibes. And hopefully I wouldn’t be distracted by how sick I felt over Liza’s despair.
A young couple passed by, their eyes darting around the deck as they clutched each other a bit too tightly. They were the first people I’d encountered, and their stroll did not appear to be as relaxing as they were attempting to make it. In fact, most of the ship felt too quiet. Passengers were taki
ng more of their meals in their cabins and only venturing out when absolutely necessary. A pretty prison was what this ship had become.
I continued on, thoughts tumbling over one another.
Out this far in the water there were no gulls calling overhead, singing their own songs of woe. Instead there were snippets of conversation that rolled down the wooden deck toward me, too muffled to make out. Women and men in less fine suits and dresses than those of first class, but still quite fashionable, peered out from their cabins as I made my way toward Anishaa. My heart thumped against my chest in warning, but it was too late to turn back now. I was here, and the plan needed to unfold now.
Mephistopheles had his back to me, but I recognized him by his scarlet tailcoat, gleaming knee-high boots, and narrow-hipped swagger. From this direction he resembled a pirate king. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he added an aquatic act once they landed in New York.
“Next time, twirl the torches as if they were a pocket watch on a chain,” he was saying, swinging his watch in a wide circle. “The velocity will keep the flames from spreading along the metal rod and look impressive from the audience. But do it quickly—it’s still metal and will burn your lips if they accidentally touch it.”
Anishaa peered up at him through lowered lashes, and I was surprised the ringmaster hadn’t noticed her crush. She seemed to balance on the edge of each word and idea he offered.
“A fine scientific deduction,” I said. Mephistopheles whirled, looking startled by my unannounced visit, yet pleased. He clutched the watch, then pocketed it. “Metal getting hot with fire. Who would’ve guessed? Next you might tell her that ice will be cold to the touch.”
“Miss Wadsworth. Always a pleasure.” His mouth quirked as he gave a slight bow. “I have it on good authority that falling in love is like toying with fire. Warm, crackling with heated passion…” Anishaa snorted and he motioned for her to practice.
“Well, if one is foolish enough to play with flames, they shouldn’t be surprised when they get burned.”
Anishaa’s expression was bemused while she twirled the flames, allowing us a bit of privacy, though I noticed her attention kept darting over to the object of her secret affection.
“Would you care to see my work space?” Mephistopheles asked, all gentlemanly manners belied by the cunning gleam in his eye. “It’s just around the bend.” He smiled behind his mask—a wolf inviting Red Riding Hood into the darkened forest. What he didn’t know was that this particular girl carried a weapon beneath her hood and had an assortment of wolf hides mounted in her chambers. “I promise no immoral behavior. Just gears and gadgets. Maybe a bit of grease. Nothing too romantic.”
“You certainly know how to charm a girl,” I said. “Next you’ll show me your mask collection.” I peered close to this newest work of art, a pale gray with cloudlike swirls of white, noticing the slight hitch in his breath as I drew near. “How many do you own, one thousand?”
“Closer to one million.” He grinned, regaining his composure. “Practice twirling one, then the other, like we discussed,” he called over to Anishaa. “We’ve got to work on when you spit the flames next. I’m almost ready with the new tonic.”
She nodded, then continued her work. He folded my hand over his arm, escorting me down the promenade to his lair. I’d only been half jesting about the masks, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did have that many. He probably needed an entire trunk to transport them.
“Spitting fire?” I asked. “That sounds a bit dangerous. And a little crass.”
“It’s not as if she’ll be spewing flames onto the crowd like chewing tobacco. Danger can be found in everything, even the mundane. And that’s quite boring,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this early? It’s not time for a lesson. Did Mr. Cresswell send you here to break off our romantic entanglement? I thought he might throttle me in Miss Crenshaw’s cabin. I bet he hated sharing toys as a child.”
“First, I am not anyone’s toy, sir. And second, if Thomas was upset, don’t you believe he would be the one standing here, challenging you for my affections?”
Mephistopheles snorted. “Well, he does seem the type to run his enemies through.” He squinted at me. “Is that the sort of thing that attracts you? Perhaps I’ll start challenging your other suitors to duels. I may even remove my mask once I’ve won. Let them gaze upon the true face of their victor.”
“You mean the face of their mortal enemy?”
“I doubt they’d call me their friend after being introduced to Nightsblade.”
“Nightsblade?” I asked, stopping. “Is that the name of your imaginary friend?”
“Close.” He chuckled. “You’ve heard of nightshade, correct? Tantalizing plants, but deadly. Like my sword. Nightsblade.”
“Clever.” Unease ran its icy fingers down my back. Belladonna—a type of nightshade—had been found in Miss Crenshaw’s system. “Does everyone in your carnival need to be in possession of a weapon to be accepted? Like a secret mask-wearing society of sword wielders?”
He laughed again, only this time I wished to withdraw my arm from his.
