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“You claimed that Liza was unaware of the letters or woman. You made me think there was something more going on—you…” I went back to the night of our bargain, stomach sinking with each new memory of our conversation. He hadn’t lied. He just hadn’t been entirely truthful.
“I, what?” he asked. “I laid facts out for you, Miss Wadsworth. You assumed I meant lover. You assumed he was untrustworthy, simply because of our professions. Your prejudice interfered with your ability to inqui
re further, to ask more specific questions, to separate fact from the fiction of your mind. You had the opportunity to clear everything up; I would not have lied to you. That was a choice you made, and did I benefit from it? Of course I did. I make no denial of the fact I’ve used this method on people before, and I will most certainly do so in the future. If you’re angry with anyone, it ought to be yourself as well. You created an illusion of the truth you wanted to see.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“I’m terribly accurate at reading humanity. Change human behavior, Miss Wadsworth, and I’ll change my tactics.”
“You made me break Liza’s heart for no good reason.”
“Really? Can you think of not one reason that’s positive?” He cocked his head. “Do you truly believe that she belongs with an escape artist in a traveling carnival? Or is it a whim that has dire consequences? You did your cousin a favor, Miss Wadsworth. But sometimes they don’t come in sweet-smelling bouquets. Houdini would have broken her heart eventually, or she would have broken his. The right choice isn’t always the easy one.” He offered a slight bow. “I hope one day you’ll understand that. Good night.”
“Oh, no,” I said, marching after him and tugging him around to face me. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what, exactly?”
“Pour kerosene, set it aflame, and walk away when the fire is too hot for your tastes.”
He leaned against the lion’s cage, expression thoughtful. I hoped the lion would decide to have a midnight snack. A foul and wretched thought after knowing the animal had consumed at least part of one victim. A victim we’d yet to identify. I shuddered. Mephistopheles shrugged out of his tailcoat and draped it over my shoulders—the embroidered scarlet velvet reminding me a little too much of blood.
“I use science and study the human mind the same way you do,” he replied calmly. “Don’t be angry you took the boring, traditional route. You could still choose differently, you know. You want to set your world on fire, I’ll give you a matchbox.”
“‘Boring’?” I parroted back. “Pardon me if I do not find amusement in the idea of potentially destroying a life on a whim. Perhaps you ought to stick to crafting pretty costumes.”
“If you’d like to join my midnight carnival permanently and offer up more stellar ideas, you simply need ask.”
“You are completely mad if you think I’d care to join you or your depraved use of ‘science’ and engineering for good. Your acts are violent, savage things. All they show us is how horrid the world can be.” I tossed my hands up when he smiled. “Why is this amusing?”
“I find your vehemence endearing.”
“I find your lack of compassion appalling,” I said. “Are you ever serious?”
“Of course I am. I am seriously the most honest person I know,” he said, his voice frustratingly calm. “Truth is a blade. Brutal and ice cold. It cuts. Sometimes when spoken carelessly it even scars. Our performances expose that fact and make no apology for it. Once again, if you’re upset with anyone, it’s yourself. What truth did you discover while that tank was unveiled tonight?”
“Aside from the body? I discovered that you’re all willing to go too far for a stupid carnival.”
“Is that all?” He smirked. “Did you enjoy it? I’d wager your heart beat a little faster. Your palms dampened with dread and expectation. We are all fascinated by death—it’s the one thing each and every one of us has in common. No matter our station in life, we all must die. And we never know when it’s coming for us. Seeing someone nearly drown in itself isn’t scary or intimidating. It’s the truth and realization of what truly excites us that is most disturbing.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.”
“Don’t you, though?” He tilted his head. “Tell me, Miss Wadsworth. Imagine this: When that curtain drops around the tank and the clock starts counting, those seconds ticking loud enough to cause arrhythmia, what is the whisper in your mind between heartbeats? Are you secretly praying that Houdini will make it through? Hoping against seemingly insurmountable odds that he will defeat death? Or are you sitting there, fists clenched below the table, both dreading and anticipating the possibility that you’re about to witness something we all fear? What is most exciting? Most terrifying?”
I swallowed hard, and didn’t answer; I didn’t need to. Even though we’d not gotten a chance to witness the act he spoke of, Mephistopheles already knew what I’d say, anyway.
“That is the truth we offer,” he said. “We are, all of us, desperate for a way to overcome the biggest threat of all: death. At the same time, we’re all hungry when it comes for someone else. You may hate the truth, deny it, curse it, but the fact remains you are equally enchanted by it. Knowing the flames are hot isn’t always a deterrent from playing with fire.”
When I said nothing, he lifted a shoulder, but there was a tightness around his mouth that belied his nonchalance. “Life, like the show, goes on whether we agree with it or not. If we stopped living, ceased to celebrate our existences in the face of death or tragedy, then we might as well tumble into our own graves.”
A thought struck me. “Whose idea was it for the torture cell tonight… yours, Houdini’s, or the captain’s?”
“Let’s call it a mutual agreement.” The lion growled, startling Mephistopheles away from the cage. He straightened his waistcoat. “What did you learn regarding Mrs. Prescott’s death?”
That anyone, including him, might have placed her in that trunk. I shuddered—two women, stuffed into a trunk and a tank. Both horrendous resting places. “We’re going to do a postmortem in the morning. Her husband wished for one night to say goodbye.”
“You’re confident you’ll identify the cause of death, though?” he pressed. I nodded, not ready to admit we’d already discovered that she’d likely been smothered. “Interesting.”
“It’s not really that interesting or hard, once you’ve practiced enough.”
