Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(76)

Thomas wrapped an arm around me.

“Don’t. It means you’re healing, Audrey Rose. Cherish it. Don’t condemn yourself for moving on, or for living.”

I kissed Thomas sweetly, then stood in front of him, his hands anchoring me in place, while Miranda stepped onstage, demanding her father cease the tempest he’d started. I leaned my head against Thomas’s chest, watching the storm rage.

If only there were such things as sorcerers, I’d beg for a spell to find the devil before he struck again.

“Miss Wadsworth, Mr. Cresswell, I’d like to introduce you both to Miss Minnie Williams.” Mephistopheles brought us backstage, where performers sat in silk robes, sipping tea or spirits and celebrating their nightly success. “She’s an exceptional Miranda, but, alas, she’s moving on to calmer shores.”

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.”