Iris filled Patrick in while Edward pulled stops and turned dials to crank the lighting system back up to full power. Thankfully it warmed up quickly.
“And Johann wants Edward to turn the aether frequency up so the mad inventor will shoot Cobb,” she finished.
Her words made Edward freeze. It had been one thing when he’d taken desperate action to save Iris. While he would do anything for her, his conscience had eased with the knowledge that it was partially the Eros Element that had caused him to break through his inhibitions and boundaries to use science to destroy another human life. Now he was going to do so again, but this time with a clear head and heart.
His chest tightened, and he stepped away from the console. Iris rushed to him.
“What is it? Are you all right?”
“I can’t…” He tried to breathe into shrinking lungs. “I can’t do this again. I can’t use it to kill again.”
Iris took his face in her hands and turned it toward her so he gazed into her dark blue eyes. “Please trust me on this—”
“I trust you in everything.”
Her eyes softened, and her lips turned up into a smile that he knew was only for him. “Then believe this, that Cobb must be destroyed, for if he gets hold of what you’ve discovered and developed, he will ruin many more lives than he already has. Firmin gave me a clue to what’s possibly the next step in developing the Eros Element into a power source, and ancient peoples tried to use it as a weapon.”
“And you think that’s what he wants.”
“In the end, yes. Not power to help, but power to harm.”
The weight of the responsibility threatened to crush him. He thought about why they had pursued their quest, so the poor would have access to a power source that wasn’t coal. He hated to play at being a god, to decide who would live or die, but he couldn’t let what they’d worked so hard to find end up in the hands of a power-hungry madman.
“Then I’ll do it.”
“I’ll be right here beside you,” she said. “For always.”
He put one arm around her, and supported by her strength, flooded the system with the aether, then closed his eyes and forced his memory back to Rome, back to the combination of tuning forks that had produced the frequency that pushed him into desperate action. He turned the appropriate dials, and the gas he could see took on a peach-rose hue.
“The rose is opening,” Iris murmured. “God save us.”
The tubes that held the gas glowed brighter and brighter, blinding like the airship when it had exploded. Edward wasn’t sure if current experience conflated memory, but he thought he remembered it exploding in a peach-rose hue, not orange-red fire. And then there was the lone parachutist after…
“Turn it off!” Iris yelled. “It’s too much.”
Patrick ran to the console, and he and Edward tried to reverse it, but the Eros Element seemed to take on its own life. Edward thought he saw a rose-colored snake slither through the tubing.
“It’s not shutting off,” Patrick shouted. “Get out now!”
Patrick grabbed Edward and Iris and pulled them out of the room and braced himself against the door. A crackle like that of a lightning storm sounded, and then the system exploded, leaving them in darkness.
* * * * *
The footlights took on a peach-colored hue, and Johann observed his own emotions, the building tension in his chest. He hated Cobb at that moment for manipulating of all of them, but most of all for what he’d done to Marie.
The discussion between Cobb and the inventor Farrell heated. The inventor gestured with his gun, and Johann grabbed Marie from Farrell and pulled her back toward him. The inventor continued to brandish his gun at Cobb.
Come on, come on, do it.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“I had Edward change the frequency of the aether lighting system.”
“But what if someone gets killed?”
“If we’re lucky, it will be Cobb.”
Farrell pointed his pistol at Cobb. “I told you not to underestimate me!”
The entrepreneur held up his hands. “Fine, Paul, we can talk about what’s bothering you. Just put the gun down.”
Why isn’t Cobb affected? Johann watched the tableau unfolding while backing away with Marie. Lucille and the stagehands also gave the two men a wide berth, and Johann gestured for Davidson to follow him.
A whine reached Johann’s ears, and he yelled, “Not so much, Edward!”
A voice floated up from below, Patrick’s—“It’s not shutting off.”
Johann experienced a range of emotions, from ecstasy to despair, the waves lasting only a matter of seconds. The sounds that came to him through the high pitch of the system were Farrell’s laughter. Peach-rose lightning crackled from the lights. Then the theatre went dark and was silent except for the sounds of one, two, three gunshots and a body hitting the wooden stage floor.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Théâtre Bohème, 8 December 1870
Johann threw MarieG to the ground and lay on top of her. Something on her costume ripped, and cold air tickled her side.
The thought floated through her panic, Merde, I suppose Maman was right about letting this one out.
Had the bullets hit Cobb? Someone else?
“Are you shot?” she whispered to Johann. Please don’t be shot, please be all right.
“No, are you?”
“No.” She tried to remember who was in the theatre. “But Maman. Maman!” She frantically looked around, but all she could make out was lumps in the dark. Some weren’t moving. The last she had seen Lucille, she could have been in the path of a bullet, especially if the shot had gone wild.
The house lights, which were on a different system, slowly illuminated. Although there was a trail of blood, Cobb and Farrell had disappeared. Everyone else stirred and checked for injuries.
Lucille rushed to Marie, and the two women embraced.
“I thought he had hurt you,” Lucille said. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
“Me, neither.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucille told her and held her hands. “For all of it. For the secrets I kept from you.”
“And I’m sorry too, for running away.” They embraced again.
Iris and Edward emerged.
“Is everyone all right?” Iris asked. “We heard gunshots.”
“Yes,” Marie said. “Although Cobb and Farrell are gone.”
“So is Davidson,” Johann observed. “I suspect he went after them.”
“Does this mean you won’t be arrested?” Marie asked. “Davidson definitely got a good demonstration of how the aether lighting affects people.”
“Yes, I wonder what he was feeling,” Iris said.
“So you know who Farrell was?” Marie asked Lucille. “He had talked to me once before, but he said he knew you.”
Lucille looked away, and Fouré nudged her. “You need to tell her everything.”
“Very well.” She looked at Marie, and her eyes glazed with tears. Marie watched her, shocked. She’d never seen her mother cry.
“You don’t have to do this now,” she said.
“Non.” Lucille wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Fouré gave her. “You have a right to know, and I won’t let any more time pass. Paul Farrell was an inventor and assassin I hired to take care of Cobb the first time he showed interest in you several years ago, even before you were the ingénue in the production that drove poor old Maurice mad. He had a grudge against Cobb, and I wanted to use that. I did not realize how truly insane he was.”
“Why didn’t you just warn me?”
“Because I was afraid you would let the knowledge of how alluring you were to men run away with you like it did me. I didn’t think the opposite would get you in trouble.”
“I ran
off with Cobb because he stole and then burned the traveling papers I’d gotten without your knowledge. And then he blackmailed me.” Saying the words and seeing the hurt in her mother’s eyes made Marie’s stomach turn. “But wait, like it did you? What happened?”
Fouré looked down at Lucille with a grin and then gestured to Marie. “Well, you did.”
Johann turned and coughed, and Marie’s cheeks heated. “This may be more than I want to know,” she said.
Lucille took her hands. “I do not regret what I did, for I do love your father even if we have not been able to have a traditional life together. I would not keep him from his career, and he knew he could not take me out of Paris. I was expelled by the Roma community here for becoming pregnant out of wedlock. Zokar defied our father to stay in contact with me, and I am glad you found him, but I did not want you to know of my impulsive behavior.”
Marie put the heels of her hands to her head. “This is too much.”
“I know it’s a lot.” Lucille placed her hand on Marie’s cheek. “And I promise that if you have any more questions, I will answer them honestly.”
“I need some time.” Marie took her mother’s hand and kissed it.
“Take what you need.”
“Don’t worry,” Marie said. “I’ll be in shape for the performance tomorrow night, although I’m not sure the lighting system will be.”
Lucille smiled. “I will leave that up to you. Don’t worry, I will not force you to take the stage again, although you’re managing your talent beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
And for the first time, Marie felt she could drive her ability rather than it take her over.
* * * * *
Johann walked out of the theatre and into the cold air with Marie. She paused and looked out on the street, where a few people still milled about, but it was generally quiet.
“What are you thinking?” Johann asked.
Marie turned to him and smiled. “That I finally feel like myself.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. She molded herself to him, and she sensed he only held her, not any role or pretension. He hadn’t since before Paul Farrell had jumped out of the shadows. But she had to make sure.
“Does that mean you’re willing to think about being my partner in adventure?” he asked once they broke apart.
“What are you asking me, Maestro Bledsoe?”
“That once this siege is over, we finish our grand tour and go to the Ottoman Empire.”
Marie looked up into his turquoise eyes. “You do realize what my talent is, right?”
He stroked her cheek. “Yes, that you can take on any role very convincingly.”
“And you do remember what I was playing on the stage,” she pressed. A little flicker of hope ignited in her belly, but she wouldn’t fan it until she knew with certainty.
“The idealized woman. But you haven’t been playing her the whole time, and my feelings for you have only grown as you learned to manage your role. Silly fille, I’ve loved you more as you’ve become more yourself.”
Although she could have drawn from any number of heroines with a happy ending, Marie knew her joy was hers alone, as was her answer. “Then yes, I will travel with you.”
Iris and Edward walked out of the theatre, and Edward put an arm around Iris.
“Did I hear someone say something about the Ottoman Empire?” he asked. “Sorry, we were just inside the door.”
“Sounds good to me,” Iris said. “There’s something I’m missing in interpreting that manuscript Firmin gave me. I need to visit temple ruins there and see if I can find the key.”
“And I do like to finish what I started,” Edward added.
“Are you all right?” Johann asked.
Edward nodded, and for once his smile wasn’t shadowed by anxiety or regret. “Now that I know the Eros Element was causing my mood, I’m handling things much better.”
“Then let’s figure out how to make this work,” Johann told them. “And I know just the way. Marie St. Jean,” he said and got on one knee. “We’ve been through life and death, airship crashes, crazy inventors with guns, and bizarre circumstances, and through it all, you’ve been as graceful and gracious as any man could wish. Would you be my wife?”
Marie’s eyes widened, and the flicker of hope in her belly spread to become a happy glow warmer than the aether lighting. “Are you sure about this?”
“As sure as I have ever been. And I want you, all of you.”
“Then yes!”
This time when they kissed, it was the fulfillment of all they’d wished and desired.
Epilogue
Airship over the French Countryside, Midnight 25 December 1870
“Are you ready, Fantastique?”
Marie turned from the window of the small pantry off the airship’s ballroom and smiled.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Iris had never looked so pretty with her white-blonde hair piled atop her head and the unusual color of her eyes particularly vivid with the satin lavender gown she wore.
“Yes, we seem to be beyond the siege lines, so we can start,” Fouré said. “I won’t have the Prussians upstaging your wedding with a shell.”
“I’ll inform the captain,” Radcliffe told them and slipped out.
“You both look lovely,” Fouré said, “but especially my daughter.” He held out an arm, and Marie took it. Radcliffe returned, and the door opened a crack.
Amelie Lafitte peeked out. “There are so many people!”
Her loveliness had returned after Radcliffe exposed her to the Eros Element and cured her hysteria. Marie hadn’t seen him look as hopeful as he did after, and she knew he would be taking off to the States soon. Although he still had work to do on his method, particularly on someone not recently traumatized, he would want to find his Claire.
But first, a double wedding and honeymoon in the Ottoman Empire so Iris could search for the key to decipher the manuscript Firmin had entrusted to her.
Amelie, the lone bridesmaid, processed toward the podium. Then Iris went out on Radcliffe’s arm. Marie felt Iris’s spike of excitement through the bond they shared and then the smooth calmness of the certainty that she was making the right decision marrying Edward.
The music changed to a more—what else?—dramatic entrance, and the door opened to reveal the ballroom decorated in red and green. Small aether lights twinkled in the trees along the bank of windows and seemed to talk to the midnight stars outside. Marie’s gaze was drawn to Johann, now beardless and smiling and in his best tails. She wondered what Iris thought as love and lust bloomed in Marie’s chest, and she smiled not-so-innocently at him. Fouré handed her off, and Johann leaned in after taking her hand.
“You look ravishing. Also like you.”
“I’m marrying you, not Fantastique, Marguerite, Henriette, or any of the others,” she murmured back.
“And I couldn’t be happier.”
The witnesses were Lucille and Fouré, who had finally married, as well as Radcliffe and Patrick and Zokar and Saphira. Sadly, Inspector Davidson couldn’t be there. The charges against Johann had been dropped as soon as Cobb had managed to leave Paris, and Lucille had given Johann and Marie the profits from the opening performance of Light Fantastique as a wedding present so he could pay off the Guild when they approached him for it again.
After witnessing what had happened in the theatre and Amelie’s treatment, Davidson was convinced that the Eros Element did have the power to influence emotions and investigated accordingly. Frederic’s murderer was found to be the guardsman outside the chapel who was also attracted to Marie after seeing her around the theatre, and the murder of Monsieur Cinsault was pinned on the neo-Pythagoreans who weren’t keen on his exposing them to the students. The assassin acted before he had intended, thanks to Eros.
As for the third man, all they could surmise was that the neo-Pythagoreans had mistaken him for Edward.
Davidson had disappeared soon after the cases wrapped up, presumably in pursuit of Cobb and Farrell, who Lucille’s sources said left together. No one was sure what to make of that, but Zokar was happy to get his automaton back even if its face had disappeared. His family and people and as much as they could bring were also on the airship headed to a new life and country.
As Marie kissed her husband, she found herself grateful to be surrounded by family and friends. It was a freedom she never thought she would have, the freedom to love and be loved for and as herself.
She knew she would take the stage again, but for tonight, she found wife to be the best role of all.
About the Author
Cecilia Dominic wrote her first story when she was two years old and has always had a much more interesting life inside her head than outside of it. She became a clinical psychologist because she’s fascinated by people and their stories, but she couldn’t stop writing fiction. The first draft of her dissertation, while not fiction, was still criticized by her major professor for being written in too entertaining a style. She made it through graduate school and got her PhD, started her own practice, and by day, she helps people cure their insomnia without using medication. By night, she blogs about wine and writes fiction she hopes will keep her readers turning the pages all night. Yes, she recognizes the conflict of interest between her two careers, so she writes and blogs under a pen name. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with one husband and two cats, which, she’s been told, is a good number of each.
You can find her at:
Web page: www.ceciliadominic.com
Wine blog: www.randomoenophile.com
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A Perfect Man
Light Fantastique Page 30