Mirrors and Magic: A Steampunk Fairy Tale (The Clockwork Republic Series)

by Katina French

  "Andrew, this is ridiculous! You're insensible with grief now, but you know you have no evidence, no proof whatsoever that I had anything to do with the girl's death. You said yourself it must have been a mad convict, released from the prison!"

  "It's not the girl's murder you're being held for, it's her father's. We heard everything, Bella."

  "You heard nothing!" she screeched "You can prove nothing! You're all just a pack of lying, conniving, jealous--" Suddenly, she was startled to silence by the sound of her own voice.

  "A few alterations to his formulae, a few hidden cuts in a prop, and the Magnificent Bianchi wasn't so magnificent, was he?"

  Her voice echoed from a small portable gramophone. Her eyes widened in shock. This was insane. She needed to get away, find Max, and run.

  She twisted her arm suddenly and viciously. The constable wasn't prepared for her strength.

  He reached out to grab her, but only succeeded in grabbing a handful of the veil, jerking the gigantic black hat from her head.

  Her long skirt kept tripping at her. She reached down, dug her sharp fingernails into the fragile fabric, and ripped away the underskirt, leaving her legs free in their stockings from the knees down. She was almost away, when she saw her.

  Dressed in white, the comb missing from her hair, stood the girl she'd had killed.

  The girl who lay dead on a dais only moments before.

  Like an avenging angel, Neve Bianchi stood between Bella and freedom. Bella shrieked, although whether in shock or rage it was difficult to tell.

  ~*~

  Neve Bianchi was very much alive. Alive and angry, although she looked wan and a little weak. She ran towards Bella, hands balled into fists.

  She reached behind her and grabbed her wand, wrenching it out from where she'd tucked it before lying on the dais. She waved it at Bella, but stumbled a bit. The powder landed on a bystander, freezing the man where he stood.

  Bella skidded to a halt and turned between two tents. She leaped up and grabbed a pole jutting between them, vaulting far above the heads of the crowd. She scampered up onto the canvas roof of the tent, disappearing among the cables and poles. Neve turned and ran after her, yelling at the other people to grab her, catch her before it was too late.

  But the people were so shocked at seeing her alive, they couldn't react to her shouts.

  She was mobbed by a crowd of carnies in a heartbeat. From inside the throng of people, she spotted Brendan and the constable running after Bella, but feared they were too late.

  "Neve! You're alive! How is it possible! I saw you with my own eyes!"

  Dozens of voices, with nearly as many accents, called out to her. Everyone seemed overcome with surprise and relief. A barrage of exclamations hit her from all sides. Everyone was struggling to embrace her, eyes brimming with tears.

  She felt exhausted and overwhelmed.

  The freezing potion had worked a little too well. It gave her the appearance of death as long as it was in contact with her skin. They'd used the ivory comb to pull off the illusion.

  In between mourners, Brendan had ducked out from the secret compartment and removed the comb, letting her recover a bit before the next round.

  Jim and Georgie came running from between the tents where Bella had disappeared.

  "She got away! I'm sorry, Miss Neve. She scrambled up the side of that tent like a monkey. I never seen anybody that fast in my life!"

  "Georgie! Jim! You were supposed to be with the others in my caravan!"

  "And you were supposed to be safe. You don't look so good." If she looked half as bad as Georgie's grim expression indicated, she might have pushed the illusion of her death a little too close to reality.

  It had been a dangerous game, but it had to be absolutely convincing to get Bella to lower her guard.

  Somehow, Neve had known Bella was perversely proud of what she'd done. Somehow, she'd known Bella couldn't resist gloating over the body of her dead and defeated enemy. It had been a terrible risk on a hunch, but it had paid off. She finally had the answer to the question which had haunted her for ten years.

  Her father hadn't made a mistake. He hadn't died because he was fatigued from the stress of being her only parent and a world-class illusionist all at once.

  No one could have predicted how pathologically sick Bella's craving for fame had already become. No one could have spotted the monster hiding in their midst.

  She almost collapsed in a storm of cathartic grief and rage as the exorcised ghosts of the past were released.

  Just as she was certain she couldn't stand up a moment longer, Brendan appeared. She could tell from his stormy expression Bella had escaped him as well.

  "The constables are hauling Max into the police wagon. He seemed almost relieved. I don't think he had the stomach for murder his mistress did. Once he hears that gramophone recording, he'll confess everything he knows. We will catch her, Neve."

  "Maybe, maybe not." She took a deep breath, and looked around at all the people rejoicing just to see her alive. "Either way, I don't think she's going to be in a position to hurt me again."

  A Majestic Return

  It was opening night in Chicago. As they had done before in cities with large venues, the circus split in two. The games and rides set up in a local park, while the performing troupe decamped to the theatre. For the first time in many years, Lang had enough money to book hotel rooms for most of his key performers nearby.

  With seven children to consider, Neve had needed an entire suite. They were all adjusting to their new situation with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Some changes, like magic lessons and plenty of good food, were welcomed with relish. Others, like wearing fancy clothes and not being allowed to pickpocket fellow hotel guests, were substantially less popular.

  Neve sat in a chaise in the lobby of the elegant hotel, reading the paper. The story of her father's death was news yet again, as his killer had been revealed. She may have run to ground, but Bella was going to have to hide her face for a very long time.

  She tugged at the elbow-length kid gloves Brendan and Andrew insisted she wear. She had at least managed to talk them into a more sensible hat. It was still broad-brimmed in the fashionable style of the moment, a deep cobalt blue trimmed with red velvet and yellow flowers. The hat matched her new dress, with red puffed sleeves and bodice. A blue toile corselet covered the yellow silk skirt embroidered with hummingbirds.

  It was certainly a different ensemble than her old coveralls and jumpers. She had to be much more careful of mud than when she had leapt into a pig sty chasing Roderigo.

  Such was the life of an heiress and celebrity. She giggled a bit at that thought. It would take a while before she got used to her own changed situation, as well.

  Faye bounded down the spiral staircase and barreled through the lobby at her. Monique was in hot pursuit.

  "Miss Neve! You're not leaving are you? Not without us?"

  The little girl crawled up into Neve's lap, shoving the paper out of the way.

  "I'm just going to get ready for the show, sweetheart. But you and the others will be coming, too. Monique will bring you in a few hours. Remember what I taught you?"

  Faye frowned. "Preparation and practice makes perfect."

  "Right. So I have to go to the theater to prepare for my show." In addition to the magic lessons from Neve, the children were also receiving lessons from Monique and Andrew Lang on somewhat more practical matters like reading, mathematics and manners.

  She wanted to adopt the lot of them, but it would be complicated. According to Mr. Parillo, the courts might look askance at an unmarried young circus performer adopting seven children. Their practical care was another matter. She had the resources to manage that, especially with help from the other members of the troupe.

  "Come now, ma chere. The other children will be worried We should go back and let them know you haven't run away." Monique attempted to coax Faye out of Neve's lap, without much success. "If you come with me, I wil
l show you how to make another dress for your dolls, oui?" The little girl looked as though she were considering the offer.

  Young Franklin and Cecilia, the twins, had shown some affinity for horses. They might be dropping out of magic lessons to study with Gloria. Archie was obsessed with the big cats and monkeys. He'd been stalking Bosworth whenever possible, peppering him with questions. And she hadn't missed the look of awe and longing Georgie had given Bella's silks and costumes, piled in a trunk in Monique's tent.

  She could make a fine acrobat, as agile and fearless as she'd been on the rooftops chasing Brendan. Although that might mean speaking with Mr. Propp from the Royal Russian about finding a proper trainer. Neve was so caught up in planning for her wards and their futures, she missed seeing Brendan walk into the hotel.

  "There you are!" Brendan's voice boomed across the lobby. Happier than she'd ever seen him, he rushed across the room, plucking Faye off her lap and spinning the girl in circles.

  "I have the most unexpected news!"

  "What?" She jumped up from the chair in concern. Any time anyone mentioned news since her "funeral," she'd felt her heart constrict, wondering if Bella had been found.

  "I've just been speaking with your most excellent solicitor. It seems someone asked him to start making discreet inquiries back in Ireland about my, ahem, legal entanglements. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  "I might." She smirked at him and he put Faye down to be lead back upstairs by Monique.

  "It seems I've had an unknown advocate in my absence. Father Riordan."

  Recollection sparked in Neve's mind. "The parish priest with the donkey? The one with the mechanical leg?"

  "The very same. It seems being the village confessor put him in the position of knowing very well that the manor lord had been up to no good. When I left, he began harassing his heir to drop the charges against me, or at least submit to a proper investigation.

  "He wasn't too keen on the idea, knowing it could implicate his father. Eventually, the good Father prevailed upon the Alchemists' Guild to perform an official inquiry. I'm not sure exactly how they did it, but they were able to find enough evidence to convince the courts. They declared I was acting in self-defense brawling with the old lord, and the fire was an accident.

  "The warrant for my arrest was revoked over a year ago. I'm a free man, Neve. I have been since I've known you -- I just didn't know it myself!"

  He grabbed her and spun her around in his arms.

  "That's wonderful, Brendan! I'd only been thinking we could open the case and let someone hear your side of things. This is much more than I'd even dared hope."

  "Neve, with this behind me, I can think about the future--"

  "Well, right now, the future we need to be thinking about is tonight's performance. The one we're going to miss if we don't get moving!"

  It was time to head to the venue, the new Majestic Theater. She'd been in awe of the beautiful new building. It hadn't even been built when she'd last been to Chicago. Gilt and rich murals covered every surface. The seats were covered in plush red velvet.

  It was like a palace.

  She grabbed her wrap, and took Brendan's arm.

  As they walked down the street towards the Majestic, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness.

  "Am I really ready for all this, Brendan?"

  "For what? Happiness? Joy? Delight? It's hard to say. Although you seemed like you were doing an excellent job of enjoying that chocolate cake at lunch."

  She smacked his arm.

  "You know what I mean. Am I ready to perform for a crowd this size? They'll be expecting someone amazing. They'll be expecting someone like my father."

  "Then they'll have to adjust their expectations. Because you, my love, are a hundred times more amazing than Giovanni, however magnificent he may have been."

  Neve smiled and blushed. And then her stomach growled. They both laughed.

  "It's good to know some things haven't changed."

  They were passing an apple cart tended by an old woman, who stood cowed under a rough shawl. The apples weren't caramel-covered like the ones at the carnival, but it would make a nice snack.

  "I can pay for my own these days," she retorted, pulling a coin from her small bag. She offered it to the woman, who held an apple out to her with a surprisingly spry flourish.

  As Neve reached for the apple, it flew away, pinned to the wooden wall behind the cart by one of Brendan's knives. He glowered at the old woman.

  "I know that move," he growled.

  Quicker than Neve would've dreamed possible, the old woman jerked the apple free of the knife, throwing back the shawl. Beneath the expertly-applied greasepaint and powder, she recognized Bella!

  The woman ran, clutching the apple.

  Neve and Brendan gave chase, following her around the nearest corner. It was a blind alley. Bella Venezia had reached the end of her flight.

  "You're going to jail, Bella. Or Bertha." Neve breathed a sigh of relief. "It's over."

  "No! You two took everything from me! Everything I worked for, my entire life! You may have ruined Bella Venezia, but you can't make me go back to being Bertha Vane. And if you destroy the only life I've ever wanted, you don't get to walk away without blood on your hands!"

  The redhead glared at them both, bit viciously into the apple, and crumpled into a heap on the ground.

  They rushed towards her. When they reached her, Neve turned her over onto her back, pushing the shawl away from her face. She gasped in shock.

  In those few moments, Bella had aged fifty years or more. Her red hair turned stark white. Her face was as sunken and wrinkled as a rotten apple.

  The fruit must have been poisoned with an illegal aging formulae. Bella curled up on the cobblestones, closed her eyes, and breathed her last.

  Brendan ran back to the corner of the alley and hailed a policeman. They'd have to explain what happened. At least now they could call off the manhunt for Bianchi's murderer. She'd no longer be a threat to anyone.

  A cold pall fell over Neve. She couldn't believe the woman would rather die than face the shame and indignity of paying for her crimes. She'd rather be dead than give up her foolish pride and vanity. It was such a terrible waste. Neve had seen too many lives wasted already.

  "Are you all right?" Brendan's voice was kind and concerned.

  "No," she replied, shaking. "But I will be." She shivered, looking down at the crumpled wreck which was once Bella Venezia.

  "Do you want to put off the performance tonight?" His arm wrapped around her, giving her a comforting squeeze.

  "No. I spent ten years putting off my life." She grabbed Brendan's hand. "Whatever happens, I want to spend it together. I don't want to wait any longer."

  The police officer came and took their statements, bizarre as they seemed, as an ambulance wagon arrived to collect the remains. Since there was no sign of a struggle, and a body which seemed to have expired of nothing more ominous than old age, he agreed to let them go free after taking their names and the name of their hotel. He agreed to send an aethergram to the theatre for them, letting Lang know they were running late, but the show would go on.

  Walking to the theatre, Neve grew calmer with every step. The fear she'd carried for years slipped away, dissolving like the illusion of snow at the end of her act.

  She was struck by a thought. She'd feared falling in love, feared displaying her talent, feared Bella and Max. She'd feared becoming an adult and not having a place to belong or people who had a reason to want her around.

  She'd faced all her fears these past few weeks, and all she'd really lost was her fear.

  In the end, she'd realized people loved her. They appreciated everything she did, but they loved her just for being herself.

  The spotlight was wonderful, and helping the circus get back on its feet was more than she could've believed possible. But as long as she had friends, the family she'd never really lost, she'd feel like a queen.
r />   She cast a sidelong glance at Brendan, his arm still draped around her.

  "How would you like a promotion?" she asked. "Since I'm a part owner in Lang & Perrault's, I can do that, you know."

  "What kind of promotion?" he asked, hesitantly. "I think we've already got a featured act, and she's quite formidable."

  "I was thinking of something a little more personal. I could use a good bodyguard."

  "Bodyguard? But your only real enemy is sort of . . . desiccated, at the moment."

  "Well, you know me. Meek little thing I am. I think my body needs guarding. Night and day. All the time." She gave him a smile full of promise and mischief.

  Brendan's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I think that could be arranged. In fact, I can think of a nice legal arrangement we could make down at the courthouse, tomorrow if you like? Now that I don't have any particular reason to avoid the judicial system. . . ." He leaned down to kiss her.

  The circus was going to be delayed a bit, anyway. A few minutes more wouldn't matter in the least.

  ~*~

  The papers in Chicago were riddled with news and gossip concerning Lang & Perrault's World Famous Circus over the next week.

  On one page was the story of the strange case of Bertha Vane, aka Bella Venezia, who'd confessed to the murder of the Magnificent Bianchi in this very city. The people of Chicago, who loved a nice sordid tale, passed the story around with great relish.

  Another page held the glowing review of Lang & Perrault's triumphant return as a World Famous circus troupe. After their Chicago run, the entire company would be traveling to Paris by airship for an extended European tour.

  A highlight of the show was the new headliner, the Amazing Bianca, a beautiful female illusionist with a breathtakingly original performance. Society matrons pretended to be scandalized at the thought of a lady illusionist, while debutantes promptly started a fad of learning parlour tricks for parties and donning tiny silk top hats.

  Somewhat further into the depths of the newspaper, a small notice announced the courthouse nuptials of one Neve Bianchi and a foreign gentleman named Ronan Malone. No one of consequence gave it any particular note.