I remained a filthy liar. There wasn’t anything fine about this situation.
Thomas stared at the door that would lead him to a path divergent from mine. For the first time in months, we would not be adventuring together. I felt his absence already as if a part of me had been carved away, and my body still yearned for its missing piece. I was whole on my own. I did not need another person to complete me, and yet the way we were parting made me feel ill. It was not right, but I didn’t know how to make it so. Perhaps that was the ultimate lesson in letting go—accepting that which was out of our control. I could only do my best and my part; it was up to Thomas to meet me halfway or not at all.
He slowly turned and faced me, jaw tight. “Farewell, Miss Wadsworth. It has been an absolute pleasure. Until we meet again.”
I ignored the similarity to how I’d parted with Mephistopheles. When he’d said goodbye, I didn’t feel as if the world had ceased to spin on its axis. Thomas tipped his hat and began to leave.
In my mind, I rushed after him, clutched his overcoat, and begged him to stay. To take me with him. To forsake my uncle’s command to remain here and see this case through in New York, and to marry me in the chapel this instant. Grandmama lived close by—though given the fact she’d not responded to any of my letters she might be traveling the Continent—and would be a witness, if only to spite my father.
In reality, I forced my lips together and simply nodded, watching him walk away for however long we’d be apart. Maybe a few weeks. Or maybe forever. Whatever he chose, I would live with it. However hard, I’d find a way. He paused, his back to me, fingers tapping the doorframe. I waited, breath held, for him to make a joke or run back and sweep me into his arms, but after another moment, he pushed himself forward and disappeared into the ship.
A sob tore its way from my chest before I stuffed it back in. I stood there for a few breaths, heart pounding. I had no inkling as to why this goodbye felt permanent. But I knew, somehow, deep within the marrow of my broken bones, that if I did not stop him, Mr. Thomas Cresswell would exit this ship and my life forever. I wrapped my unoccupied hand around the railing, allowing its icy bite to distract my thoughts. I’d need to seek warmth soon—the dull pain in my leg was turning vicious.
I focused on the physical pain instead of the new, more prominent ache in my chest.
Together Thomas and I had burned bright as a shooting star, and flew apart just as fast.
We’d stopped the Bavarian Ripper. Cleared the rest of the Moonlight Carnival of wrongdoing. Thomas was simply giving forensic aid here while Uncle and I traveled to our next destination, where he would, surely, eventually join us. All would be well soon enough—I was simply making more out of our goodbye than what it was. After all of the death I’d faced, it wasn’t hard to find a logical explanation for my hesitancy to say farewell to someone I loved. I reminded myself of earlier sentiments: Science is an altar I pray to. And it offers me solace.
I silently chanted the words like a refrain, staring out at the sea long after Thomas had left.
EPILOGUE
Liza walked down the promenade deck, hood tugged over her brow to stop the blasts of wind blowing over the Hudson from destroying her stylish coiffure. She stepped up beside me and gazed down at the circus crates that were being unloaded. I admired the painted moons on them—the dark black circles with silver crescents on their sides.
The Moonlight Carnival was off to entertain a new crowd in a new city. I had no doubt that Mephistopheles would steal the hearts and minds of everyone he met. Houdini had a stunningly bright future, too. He was well on the way to becoming legendary. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time we’d hear from either of them.
Which I wasn’t sure was a good thing.
“After everything you did, I would have thought you’d be brave enough to tell him the truth,” she said, gaze fixed on the crates below.
“Who?” I asked. “Mephistopheles?”
“Don’t be purposefully daft,” she slapped my arm.
Andreas had given her a tincture that had knocked her out. Apparently a few hours after my heroic act, she’d come stumbling back to the room, unharmed. He’d grown fond of Liza, her passionate spirit reminding him of his beloved Liesel, and spared her from further torture or death. I crinkled my brow and Liza sighed.
“Honestly? You carve open the dead, seeking the truth behind their deaths. You crave dissecting things to solve puzzles. Yet you are hopeless, dear cousin, when it comes to being truthful. Most especially to yourself.” She faced me, hands on her hips. “Did you tell Mr. Cresswell that you love him? That you cannot wait to see him again? That you are afraid he blames himself every time he sees your injury?” She studied me and shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You stuffed it all inside and pretended everything was well. But that isn’t the truth, is it? You’re worried.”
“I… it’s—it’s all very complicated.”
Liza actually snorted. “It’s truly not that complicated at all, Cousin. Thomas—cunning as he is—believes every half-truth you tell him and yourself. He cannot see through your mask. It’s likely the only thing he cannot puzzle out, and I’d wager it’s because he feels too much for you. I guarantee he believes he’s doing the gentlemanly thing by leaving—he’s giving you a choice to follow Mephistopheles, even if it breaks him apart. Did you notice the red rimming his eyes? He’s not slept since you were hurt. Uncle tried removing him from your rooms and your Mr. Cresswell nearly turned feral at the idea of leaving your side. You’re both so intelligent in matters involving the mind, but the heart? It’s as if beings from other galaxies are puzzling out fried potatoes.”
“He… what?” I could not even wrap my brain around the absurdity of the thought. “Why would he believe I’d choose anyone else? I jumped in front of a blade for him. I’m fairly certain that indicates my preference. His leaving has nothing to do with that.”
“Are you certain?” Liza gave me an exasperated look. “How did the two of you part? Let me take a stab at the scene—oh… sorry.” She cringed, motioning toward my leg. “That’s probably the wrong term for a while.”
I huffed a laugh. “What am I going to do with you?”
Liza wrapped an arm around me, holding me close. “You’re going to love me by heeding my romantic advice. Now, then, I wager Thomas formally bid you farewell. Cold. Not an ounce of flirtation to be found. I bet he even tipped his hat instead of kissing your gloved hand.” She grinned at my scowl. “Shed your mask, Audrey Rose. Tell him your fears. I promise you he doesn’t care about your cane or broken leg. It’s your soul he fell in love with. He’s giving you the opportunity to decide your own fate, but trust me, he loves you deeply.”
I turned away, suddenly not wanting Liza to see the tears that had begun streaming down. “What about you and Houdini?” I asked, deflecting. “He didn’t lie to you, you know.”
Liza shifted her attention back to the circus crates. “I know that. We just—while I adore him, I want a different sort of future. The carnival was exciting, but, hard as it might be to believe, I miss Mama.” Now I was the one who snorted and she nudged me. “Harry will find a woman who makes him happy, and I will find someone, too. Now, then, stop trying to hide from your own truth. Tell Thomas you love him, or you’ll spend the rest of your days regretting it.”
“But what if he is leaving because of the accident? What if he—”
“Pardon me.” Liza cleared her throat and nodded toward the opposite end of the promenade. “I think I see Mrs. Harvey waving all the way down there. I must go to her at once.”
“Honestly?” I swiped the wetness away and turned, annoyed by my cousin’s swift departure. My scolding died on my lips when I met Thomas’s gaze. He’d managed to slip in beside me, a magician in his own right. I shook my head as Liza winked over her shoulder and hurried away. Tears slipped freely over my cheeks again while he studied me. I angrily brushed them away, hating that, while I could mostly corral my emotions during an investig
ation, I had no control over them outside the laboratory.
“Cresswell,” I said, lifting my chin. “I thought you had business to attend to.”
“I did,” he said simply. “You see, I happened to ask Lord Crenshaw where he had such a handsome walking stick made when your uncle and I conducted our final interview. Imagine my surprise when he said he’d purchased it here in New York. There’s a shop right up the block, actually.” He moved closer, pointing in the general direction of where the store must be located. “I believe this rose beats the one Mephistopheles tried to give you.”
“I… What?”
Thomas tossed a cane into the air with one hand, caught it with the other, then handed it over to me on bended knee. It was a beautiful ebony cane with a carved rose knob. The shaft looked like the stem of the flower complete with thorns. I stared at it, unable to formulate words. It was stunning—a piece of art.
“Thomas, it’s—”
“Almost as handsome as me?”
I laughed, though more treasonous tears burst out, too. “Indeed.”
A seriousness entered his eyes, making my heart flutter. “Our work will always be important to each of us. But you have my heart wholly, Wadsworth. No matter what. The only way that will be taken is in death. And even then I will fight with every piece of me to hold your love near. Now and forevermore.”
I’d had nearly the same thoughts before everything went to hell on that stage. I ran my fingers through his hair, twisting a lock around as I gazed into his eyes. They were filled with adoration as real and true as anything. What we had was no illusion, but it was magical. I let my hand fall away from him and gripped my new cane, testing its weight. “You know? I believe this is the most precious rose I’ve ever received.”
He gave me a slow, playful smile. “My magic trick was fairly impressive, too. Do you think Mephistopheles will take me on? I could practice. Actually,” he said, taking my arm in his, adjusting his gait as I moved unsteadily beside him, “we ought to do an act together. What do you think of ‘the Amazing Cressworths’? It’s got a pleasant sound to it.”
“Cressworth? Did you honestly combine our names? And why does your name go first?” I stared at him out of the corner of my eye, mouth curved upward despite my best efforts. “I think the most amazing part of our act would be not lulling the audience to sleep with your wit.”
“Devilish woman,” he said. “What name do you suggest?”
“Hmm.” I leaned on my cane, pretending to think long and hard. “I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.”
“Mmm. Speaking of that,” he said, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Always a troublesome thing.”
“Indeed.” Thomas managed to slip his hands around my waist. “We’ve already lurked in London alleys, explored spider-filled castle labyrinths, survived a lethal carnival…” He brought his lips close and I tilted my face up, heart fluttering as he brushed his mouth against mine softly. His kisses were an intoxicating form of sorcery. “Perhaps now we can try one of my suggestions? Might I offer—”
“Just kiss me, Cresswell.”
His crooked grin set fireworks off inside me, and without uttering another word, he obliged.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The RMS Etruria had many lavish rooms for first-class passengers, but the dining saloon described is from my imagination. I used real elements and added many of my own—creating the backdrop for a traveling carnival, complete with a stage and a black-and-white checkered floor. (Though the ship did truly have refrigeration and electricity.)
Funnel cake: the earliest recipe I found for funnel cake came from a German cookbook published in 1879. The description Thomas gives of a pastry fried in butter comes from it, though it’s not mentioned by name.
Harry Houdini would have been fifteen in 1889, which was a little too young for the story, so I took the artistic liberty of making him seventeen. Houdini began publicly performing magic in 1891, not 1889, though he did perform as a trapeze artist at the age of nine. He met his wife, Bess, in 1893 and they had a wonderful love story.
I hope Houdini fans and historians won’t mind my use of his famous escape tricks, even though they occurred later in his career. “The torture cell” was actually named the “Chinese Water Torture Cell” and was first publicly performed in 1912.
“The Milk Can Escape” was performed in 1901. When Mephistopheles says “… failure means a drowning death…” in that introduction sequence, it’s the actual tagline from the Houdini promotional poster. The “Metamorphosis” trick was performed by other magicians, but Houdini’s act caught attention in 1894 because both he and his wife performed it on stage. (Other acts only featured men.) Houdini was incredible at marketing himself and his tricks, which I tried to show a glimpse of when Liza talks to Audrey Rose in their cabin and says, “He claims there’s power in how you sell something.”
Houdini’s magic career spanned from dime museums, to vaudeville, to being part of a sideshow in a traveling circus. After altering his acts to draw larger crowds and create higher stakes, he became known as the King of Cards, the King of Handcuffs, and the escape artist/master illusionist we admire today. There are rumors he met someone early on who helped clean up his grammar, and I imagined that mysterious figure as Mephistopheles. Later in life, Harry famously fought to debunk frauds when spiritualism became popular. It was a fun detail I added when Liza dreams of speaking to the dead and he yells from the stage, “Spiritualism is a hoax.”
For more information on Houdini’s life I recommend reading ESCAPE! The Story of the Great Houdini by Sid Fleischman.
Andreas Bichel, also known as “The Bavarian Ripper,” was the true-life inspiration for the killer. I reimagined him using his fortune-teller “talents” as part of a traveling circus and altered his crimes to reflect tarot cards. By the time this novel takes place, the real Bichel had already been executed. Killing method: He’d lure young women into his home, promising to show them their future with his portending mirror, tie their hands behind their backs, blindfold and murder them. Just like Andreas in this story, he stole fabric from his victims, which is ultimately how he got caught. The sister of a missing woman went into town, asking shop owners if they’d seen her sibling, when she saw the tailor making a waistcoat from her sister’s petticoat. He provided the name of the man who’d given him the material and placed the order, and she summoned the police. They later found the bodies of the missing women buried in Bichel’s woodshed.
One of my father’s friends was a VICE cop in NYC, and he’d talk about the dangers of getting too into character during undercover operations. While crafting Audrey Rose’s performance, I fashioned her acting in a way that not only seemed slightly out of the norm for her, but had her succumbing to that very danger. Audrey Rose worked so hard at crafting an illusion, that it almost became real. Many thanks to my dad’s friend for the inspiration behind the undercover operation.
Any other historical inaccuracy or creative liberty not mentioned was done to (hopefully) enhance the reading experience of this extravagant, yet fictitiously doomed, luxury liner.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Strangely enough, publishing a book is not unlike the circus. There are many performers, all juggling different aspects of the process, working together to turn a simple document into something show-stoppingly spectacular.
Many thanks to Barbara Poelle, who keeps me in constant awe of her ability to switch between fierce agent and gentle friend as quickly as Andreas demonstrates the switch-change card trick to Audrey Rose. To the team at Irene Goodman Agency, Heather Baror-Shapiro at Baror International Inc., and Sean Berard at APA, for continuing to work your sorcery. I don’t need a magic mirror to see how bright the future is for Audrey Rose and Thomas.
Jenny Bak, your incredible edits take a dull first draft and shine it up until it sparkles more than Mephistopheles’s flashiest tailcoat. You’re my partner in all things gory and glitzy; thank you for always indulging my d
ark side. Sasha Henriques, you continue to add layers of awesome with your notes—many heartfelt thanks! To the entire troupe of wondrous performers at JIMMY Patterson Books and Little, Brown, and the talented ringmaster who brought everyone together: James Patterson, Sabrina Benun, Julie Guacci, Erinn McGrath, Tracy Shaw, Stephanie Yang, Aubrey Poole, Shawn Sarles, Ned Rust, Elizabeth Blue Guess, Linda Arends, and my copy editor Susan Betz. From marketing and publicity to an incredible sales and production team to interior art and cover magic, I’m forever grateful for your support and hard work with this series.
Mom and Dad, you’ve always believed in the power of dreams, and I’d be lost without your love and support. (And going with me to all those doctor’s appointments, especially when they take blood. I die.) Kelli, keep slaying your dreams in the most spectacular fashion. (I made a Dogwood Lane Boutique pun!) As always, thank you for being my personal stylist and keeping both myself and my house on trend. I think I’ll keep you as a sister. Ben, Carol Ann, Brock, Vanna, Uncle Rich and Aunt Marian, Laura, George, Rich, Rod, Jen, Olivia, Gage, Bella, Oliver, and every fur baby in the family, much love to you all.
Irina, Phantom Rin, maker of otherworldly art. Once again you took images from my imagination, improved them, and turned them into stunning pieces. Many thanks for the idea of including moons and stars on Mephistopheles’s gloves, and for bringing the Moonlight Carnival characters to life with your custom tarot and playing cards.
Traci Chee, from traveling together for book events, to being hotel roomies (and foodies), to always being there through all the good stuff and hard medical stuff, I cannot tell you how much your friendship means both on the publishing stage and off.
Stephanie Garber, I honestly don’t know what sort of supernatural powers you possess, always calling EXACTLY at the right time, but I’m forever grateful for you! All of our talks about plot and characters and bookish recommendations and life are general is pretty legendary. :)
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