Minnie wiped her makeup off, cheeks reddening from the damp washcloth. “Henry doesn’t care for theatrics. He thinks they’re beneath us. We’re to be married this week, and I can’t very well go around displeasing him.”

She plucked a leaf from her hair, disposing of it on her dressing table. It must have been a leftover from the man-made tempest. True to his attention to detail, Mephistopheles had created an entire island of magic within the saloon’s walls. No wonder the Devil’s Den was the most popular destination in this part of the city.

“Plus,” Minnie continued, “it’s not as if I won’t have anything to do. He’s promised me I can be a stenographer. It’s not the stage, but it’s important work.”

“Mm-hm. Very.” Mephistopheles kicked his boots up onto the table, the leather gleaming as usual. “So? What did you make of the coil? It’s got that ‘razzle-dazzle’ Houdini’s always going on about. A real show-stopper. In recent shows, I’ve had half a dozen women—and men—require smelling salts after witnessing the electricity whip about like serpents.”

“It is quite… shocking.” That earned a groan from both Thomas and the ringmaster. Clearly they didn’t appreciate good humor. “Is Harry here?” I asked, thinking of my cousin. She’d had little choice but to stay in New York with my aunt. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel if she knew Houdini was here and she wasn’t. “I didn’t see the others.”

“Not to worry, dear; they’re all still employed by yours truly. This is a temporary stop for the Moonlight Carnival. We’re heading to Paris next. I’ve got them spread out, going to other shows, learning new tricks we might improve upon. It’s always best to study your competition, then obliterate it.”

“So you’re paying them to spy for you.”

“Spying, learning”—he shrugged—“really, what’s the difference? Anishaa’s been studying that Wild West nonsense Buffalo Bill Cody’s got set up.” He blew out a breath. “She’s become friends with one of his gun-wielding performers. An Annie something or other. Now Anishaa wishes to target practice with Jian. I supposed she could breathe fire while shooting, might be some sort of way we can spin it. What do you think of a fire-breathing sharp-shooting dragon?”

“I—”

“Not to interrupt,” Minnie said, stuffing her arms into a heavy overcoat, “but I must be on my way. It was lovely meeting you both.” She smiled at Thomas, then kissed each of my cheeks. “If you’re ever near 63rd Street, do pop in for a chat. I’ll be working at the pharmacy counter there while I take my course. I’d love to see you again. I just moved here from Boston and it would be wonderful to have a friend.”

“I should like that,” I said, hoping I’d be able to keep my promise.

Mephistopheles waved her off as she left. “One more woman running off with another man. I’m losing my touch.”

“Have you considered you might be a Thorne in their sides?” Thomas asked. “You certainly can be a pric—”

“Thomas,” I whispered harshly, pinching the inside of his elbow.

“How clever,” Mephistopheles said blandly. “You’ve made my name into a pun. What other comedic brilliance will you think of next? I wish I could say I missed this”—he motioned between himself and Thomas—“but that sort of lying doesn’t pay my bills.”

“Nor do the gemstones on your suits,” Thomas muttered.

“Are you still jealous about my jackets?” Mephistopheles grinned.

“For the love of the queen,” I said, interrupting before they really got into it. “If we’re moving on to more stimulating subjects, have you heard about the murder in New York?”

The cool, cavalier persona Mephistopheles had adopted was gone the instant his boots smacked the ground. He stood so abruptly, his chair knocked over. “Oh, no. No, no, no, my dear. It was lovely seeing you, lovelier still if you’d left that one at home”—he jerked his chin toward Thomas—“but I can’t involve myself in any more of your brand of debauchery.”

“My brand of debauchery?”

“Death-defying is wonderful. Death on its own is wretched for my line of work.”

“Please,” I said. “Just hear us out.”

Mephistopheles crossed his arms. “Tell me why I ought to.”

“I need you,” I said, hating that I was desperate enough to utter those words.

He didn’t so much as blink for a beat too long. When he finally did, his lip curled devilishly as he slid Thomas a taunting look. “Ah. I see I haven’t lost my charm yet. Most women I meet say the same thing, usually whilst scantily clad. Should we remove a few of those pesky layers? It’ll help clear my mind. Get me in the mood for charity.”

“Only if you’d like me to strangle you with them.”

“Still so violent I see.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure you make Thomas a very happy man. I always imagined his tastes were a bit depraved—what with all those dead bodies.” Thomas plastered on a grin of his own but remained silent. Mephistopheles narrowed his eyes. “Did you two actually fall in love surrounded by corpses?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We—” I shut my mouth. Distilled down to its most basic element, Thomas and I had continued a flirtation in the laboratory. It could be argued we did fall in love while carving the dead. The thought was disturbing.

“You’re both twisted and gnarled in ways too gruesome for even my mind.” Mephistopheles grinned as if reading my thoughts. “You truly are perfectly matched.”

“You’re avoiding my inquiry,” I said.

His smile vanished as if it had never been there to begin with. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering in place. He was talented with casting illusions, almost too talented.

“Am I? I thought I’d been perfectly clear.”

He ushered us out through the back doors of the theater, sticking two fingers in his mouth, whistling for our carriage. A shadow peeled off the wall, lurching toward us. I closed my eyes briefly, worried I’d imagined it. I opened them and it was gone.

My heartbeat continued to race despite the fact that there wasn’t anyone lurking in the darkness, waiting to attack.

“While I hate ending our little rendezvous, you’ll have to solve whatever mess you’ve gotten into this time on your own. I’m truly sorry, Miss Wadsworth, but I must look after the Moonlight Carnival. We were lucky to recover from that cursed voyage, having lost only one of our troupe. Getting mixed up with more murder will send us straight to the grave. No pun intended.”

THIRTY-THREE

THIS DEVILISH PURSUIT

GRANDMAMA’S ESTATE

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

11 FEBRUARY 1889

Once the maid finished helping me change into my sleeping attire, I lay back on the bed, going over the events of the evening. Mephistopheles’s reaction had been odd, especially for the normally boisterous ringmaster. He’d never seemed to mind causing trouble or involving himself in it before, though maybe his reluctance was simply out of fear. The last investigation nearly ended his carnival for good. I supposed I ought to be happy for him—he’d rebuilt his illusions and was doing quite well. Still, I couldn’t rid myself of unease.

Thomas slipped in like a shadow slinking around corners. I shook my head and turned the small lamp on, watching as he balanced an entire cake with two glasses of milk on one small tray. I moved over, making room on the bed for our midnight treat. He handed me a fork, his smile wide and bright. “I’m not sure how you’re faring, but I’m exhausted.”

“You’re not too tired for cake,” I said. Or for sneaking into my bedchamber.

“I’m never too tired for cake. Especially when it’s chocolate.”

I watched him dig into the fluffy confectionary, his concentration solely on the task of carving it up without a knife. I huffed a laugh and handed him a scalpel from my satchel. “Thank you for tonight, Thomas. I really enjoyed the play.”

He flicked his attention to me, shrugging off the compliment. “Being selfless is terribly taxing. I don’t suggest trying it.”

I took a fork from him and tasted the treat. Chocolate and cherry tonight. I stuck another forkful in, enjoying its richness. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring champagne. Aren’t you always going on about getting drunk and dancing most inappropriately?”

“Why indulge in spirits when there’s nothing more heavenly than chocolate?”

“Mmm.” He did have a point. We sat in companionable silence, each happily finishing off our slices. It was nice, having him here at night, sitting together and doing something as mundane as indulging in a late-night treat. He finished his piece and stared longingly as I savored my last two bites. If the devil thought he was getting any of my cake, he was sadly mistaken. I was most unladylike as I licked my fork clean of icing. His dark gaze was suddenly entranced by the motion and I realized my misstep. My cheeks pinked.

“Why did you really take me to see that show tonight?” I asked, handing him my empty plate. “It wasn’t simply for the Tesla coil, was it?”

“In truth?” Thomas stacked our dishes and set them on my nightstand. “I wanted you to see Mephisto again. Especially after everything that happened with my father and Miss Whitehall. I—” He glanced at his empty ring finger almost ruefully. “I’d heard he was here and didn’t wish to keep it from you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And?”

“You’re really getting quite good at reading me, Wadsworth. Too good.” He leaned against the wooden headboard, smiling. “He still has feelings for you. That much is plainly obvious. I hoped he might be swayed to at least listen for any news about murders. He’s got eyes and ears all over the lowly parts of the city. If anyone might know anything, much as I loathe to admit it, it’s him.”