Born of Deception (15 page)

“With your mother?”

“No. We have different mothers. We share a father.”

At the mention of her father, Calypso’s mouth tightens and she turns away. I feel a throb of pain before anger and resentment come racing in behind it. Why isn’t she blocking me now? Perhaps the block had nothing to do with me or maybe she didn’t know she was doing it.

“Is there any chance you and your father might reconcile?” I have a weakness for fathers. Growing up without one, I suppose I idealized the father-daughter relationship. For years I tracked Harry Houdini’s career and dreamed about a day that he would acknowledge that I was his daughter, if indeed I am. Now I know that he can’t really acknowledge me and I accept the relationship we are able to have with gratitude. That doesn’t stop me from wishing for more.

I glance over at Calypso, wondering why she hasn’t answered me. A sad little smile plays about her lips. “I dream of that,” she says as if in a trance. “I dream of my father accepting me for who I am and acknowledging my talents. Finally admitting that I can do some things better than he can. It will happen. Someday.”

I frown at the strange mix of determination and dejection in her voice, and slip my arm about her. “Are you all right?”

She takes a deep breath and smiles. “Of course.” She picks up a deck of cards off my bedside table. “You want to play?”

Calypso accompanies me to my rehearsal the next morning, though I make it clear that I have other plans for the day. She brings her satchel along with her so she can leave right from the theater. We’d played cards the night before until hunger forced us out looking for food and we ate fish and chips on the street like urchins before hurrying back to the hotel to finish our game. When we finally went to bed I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. As if by agreement, we didn’t talk about the Society or Pratik or the abduction attempt that morning. It was nice and normal. I’m hoping for more normal today with Billy.

To my relief, my mother sent a note, telling me she had to reschedule and would see me tomorrow morning. My day is guaranteed to be far more normal without my mother in it.

I introduce Calypso to Louie, and then we sit and watch the various acts. It’s odd seeing her reaction to things I’ve seen so often I could probably recite lines and do the pratfalls. She laughs like a child over Sally and Sandy and claps her hands at Bronco Billy’s tricks.

Jared shows up just before I go on, and I raise an eyebrow at Calypso.

“You and Cole don’t want me to be alone and you said you had plans, so I thought he could escort me home.” She smiles. “I rang him up this morning when you were getting ready for rehearsal.”

I note that Jared’s pale cheeks are stained red as he takes a seat next to Calypso, and I hide a grin at the confusion and excitement I feel from him. I wonder if she knows he has feelings for her.

I leave Calypso sitting forward in her seat, her eyes shining, with Jared sitting proud and upright next to her.

I’m unaccountably nervous to be performing in front of people I actually know, but I run through my tricks easily until I get to the iron maiden. Once inside, my ears start to buzz and my stomach roils. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I try to concentrate. It takes me far too long to get the cuffs off—something I can usually do in seconds. I stare at the spike I am supposed to lift upward but can’t seem to focus. Panic grows in my chest as a familiar tingling rises in my fingers, leaving them numb. There’s no way I can work the pin even if I could figure out how to lift the correct spike.

My legs tremble and I know I’m going to have to admit defeat. If I fall against these spikes, I could be seriously injured. I open my mouth to call out and a wave of dizziness sweeps over me. Gritting my teeth, I keep myself upright. I try to call again, but no sound comes out.

Please someone,
I plead in my head,
please someone help me
. I can almost feel energy leaching from me as the numbness travels all through my body. Why can’t I move?

I hear Billy from far away. He’s arguing with my assistant, trying to get her to open the door. How long have I been standing in here? Black spots whirl in front of my eyes. A blast of fresh air hits me in the face and I stagger forward. My legs fail and strong arms catch me.

Gasping for air, I find myself looking into eyes the color of a summer sky over an open prairie.

Billy.

I lose myself in his eyes for a long, breathless moment that feels as refreshing and pure as an ocean breeze. Then I blink and hear voices as the others cluster around me. It takes a moment for me to sort everyone out.

“Get her a glass of water,” Louie commands as Billy sits me down on the stage, careful to keep me upright with his arm. Calypso kneels next to me. She brushes my hair out of my eyes, her gaze wide and frightened.

“Are you all right?” Billy asks, and I take a deep breath before answering.

“I think so.”

“What happened?” Louie demands around his cigar.

“I don’t know. Everything was fine and then I got dizzy all of a sudden. I feel fine now.” And I do. The dizziness and tingling are gone as if they had never occurred.

“Has that ever happened before?” Billy asks.

I shake my head. “No. Never,” I lie, my eyes sliding over to Calypso, who had witnessed my collapse at the séance. The last thing I want is for my life as a Sensitive to intrude on my life as a magician. Sometimes I think performing my magic is the only sane thing I have left in my life. Calypso’s face is carefully blank and I remind myself to thank her later.

“You’re going to go see a doctor tomorrow,” Louie barks. “The last thing I need is for you to collapse onstage in Paris next week.”

I nod as he stalks off the stage. He may sound gruff but I can feel the worry beneath his words. He cares about his performers much more than he lets on.

I feel silly with everyone standing over me and move to get up. Billy gives me a hand and I stand gingerly. Sandy brings out a glass of water and I drink deeply. “I’m fine,” I insist, and Louie yells from his seat in the middle of the auditorium.

“Then everyone get off the stage except for the Woodruffs. I’m trying to work here!”

“Are you sure you’re up for our outing?” Billy asks as we go backstage.

I glance at Calypso, who is a few feet away, talking to Jared. “Yes. I’m fine. I just have to walk my friends out.”

He nods. “I’ll meet you in front of the hotel?”

I promise to be there, feeling a twinge of guilt. Should I really be going sightseeing with Billy? Am I being disloyal to Cole? It’s not like I’m attracted to Billy. Well, maybe I am. A little. But I love Cole and that’s that. Billy and I are just friends.

Calypso leaves after I promise to ring her later to tell her how I’m feeling. She takes a taxicab home for safety and for the first time I wonder where she’s getting her money. I’ll have to remember to ask Cole if the Society is supporting her or the other Sensitives. No one seems to have any jobs beyond letting scientists do experiments. But then again, maybe that is how the Society likes it. Why would they want their subjects to be independent?

I push the thoughts out of my head and hurry upstairs to freshen up and change. I am far too excited to be spending the afternoon with a man who is not my boyfriend, but chalk it up to my excitement about an afternoon free of care.

As if to prove to myself that the afternoon means little to me, I change into a plain blue dress and my blue wraparound coat. Nothing special, I tell myself, before taking special care with my hair and lipstick. I pull a straw hat down over my ears before opening the door to head downstairs.

My eye catches something lying on the carpet just outside my hotel door. I frown, bending for a closer look. Lying just inches from my toes is a medallion with some sort of strange symbol on the front. I glance around to make sure I’m alone before cautiously picking it up. The medallion is about three inches in diameter and made of some sort of heavy metal. Perhaps iron or lead. Etched into the metal are a crescent moon and two crossed arrows. I turn it over and try to read the writing on the back but don’t recognize the language.

It lies heavy against the palm of my hand and I turn it over and over, considering. Remembering the poppet, I hate the idea of carrying the medallion on my person, but I don’t want to leave it in my room unprotected either. It could be a clue to whatever it is that’s going on. Who could have left it and when? Did I miss it coming into the room or did someone leave it while I was getting ready? I swallow hard and glance down the hall, feeling vulnerable.

Knowing Billy is waiting for me and not wanting to stand in the hallway any longer, I shove it into my purse. I’ll show it to Cole later.

But I forget everything as Billy comes down the street to meet me, wearing his cowboy hat. He rarely wears it beyond performing, more’s the pity because it suits him so well. Like Cole, Billy seems to emanate light, but whereas Cole glows warm and dark, Billy is all bright sunshine.

I chide myself for my fanciful thoughts. Enough lights and sunshine and other notions. Cole is my boyfriend. Billy is just a friend.

Isn’t he?

Fourteen

S
o far, March in London has been more like a lion than a lamb, but today, the clouds are scattered in a sky so cerulean it almost hurts to look at it.

Billy whistles when he approaches, admiration in his blue eyes.

“Why, you’re as pretty as a new saddle,” he drawls, and I laugh.

“Oh, please. You really expect me to believe that cowboy talk?”

He grins and offers me his arm.

“What a difference a day makes!” he exclaims. “It’s hard to believe this is the same city.”

I agree. “Where to?” I ask.

First on our list of things to see is the Victoria Embankment. There we see the Thames and Cleopatra’s Needle.

Billy cocks his head to the side. “I bet you I could shoot an apple right off the top of that thing.”

I laugh. “Good thing you don’t have your guns. I bet the British would frown on that.”

“Probably, but think of what an amazing bit that would be.”

I grin, relishing the lighthearted banter. No occult, no murders or abductions, and no worrying about my abilities transforming into something unrecognizable. Just a breathtakingly handsome young man and normal, carefree fun.

We stroll the streets of London, delighted by everything from Big Ben to Tower Bridge. Turning a corner, we run smack into a castle and laugh and laugh because we have no idea which castle it is and because castles are so common in this fairy-tale city that you can mix them up.

“Windsor!” I say.

“Buckingham! No, Balmoral,” he answers.

“Balmoral’s in Scotland. We should have picked up a tourist guide.”

He tucks my arm into his. “No. This is much more fun, isn’t it? Just two friends moseying around the city?”

We saunter back toward the river and find ourselves in a public garden where winter-pale young children are being minded by proper well-bred nannies, businessmen are sunning themselves on park benches in lieu of lunch, and a puppet show has sprung up as if out of the still sodden grass. A juggler tosses his clubs nearby, and like moths to a talented flame, we head right toward him.

“Were you in the circus when the ball master was there?” Billy asks, and I shake my head. “He was something else. He could juggle so many balls they looked like a solid circle when he had them all going round.”

I slip my silver bracelets from my wrists, juggling them in the air. Billy smiles and the juggler moves toward us. I see the juggler raise an eyebrow and I grin and toss my bracelets one at a time to Billy, who catches them effortlessly and to my surprise juggles them as easily as an expert. “Oh ho!” I say, laughing.

The juggler tosses his clubs in a smooth arc toward me, and I start my own circle. He’s obviously a showman because he quickly snatches more up from a bag near his feet.

He begins his own circle near me and then with a nod tosses me another pin. I catch his meaning and we begin doing a two-person juggle with Billy in his cowboy hat still juggling my bracelets next to us. A crowd begins forming and children start drifting toward us from the puppet theater. My pulse quickens and I see Billy grinning like a loon. He whisks his hat off his head and catches my bracelets in it as they come down, and then moves into a three-person nine-club-juggling pattern. The juggler sees this too and reaches down, kicking the bag toward Billy. Billy pulls three clubs out of it, and for a moment all three of us are suspended in a time out of time as we prep to bring Billy in and add three more clubs to the mix. I catch the juggler’s eyes.

“One. Two. Three.”

Billy tosses the clubs in one at a time and the pattern is set. Applause erupts all around us, and the three of us share a complicit smile. We’re standing in a triangle and I am the point man or girl, as the case may be, and can watch both the juggler and Billy. Concentrating fully on the smooth transition of clubs, I separate my mind enough to watch Billy’s face as we perform together. He enjoys it as much as I do, I realize, surprised.

We stand juggling like that for two more minutes before the juggler senses the restlessness of the crowd surrounding us. He gives me a little nod and drops the extra clubs at his feet, before moving on to another trick.

Billy and I step out of the circle of people and he takes off his hat and hands me my bracelets.

“That was wonderful!” I tell him, laughing breathlessly.

He grins in agreement. “Let’s go someplace fun for supper.”

I snort. “Is there such a place in London? I haven’t been to any, if there are.”

Billy throws back his head and laughs. Nannies, in their starched winter suits, stare after him longingly. “Then maybe you’re not going around with the right people!” he says.

His words wash over me with cold reality. The afternoon has been so relaxed that I’ve forgotten that I’m meeting Cole tonight for dinner.

“I think I’m going to have to pass. I guess this morning took more out of me than I realized.” The lie is out of my mouth before I even thought about it. Why don’t I want him to know I’m going somewhere with my boyfriend? This is the second lie I’ve told today and the realization takes the top off my happiness.

Whatever is going on with me, I need to get a grip on it and soon, otherwise I am going to end up being as duplicitous as my mother.

Cole and I aren’t in his motorcar for more than five minutes before we’re arguing.

“You still should have told me,” he reiterates. “Where did you say you were all day?”

Irritation crawls across my skin. “With a friend. Sightseeing. Which I wouldn’t have to do if you had thought to take me yourself.” I’m being beastly, but can’t seem to help myself. It’s certainly not his fault that I’m feeling guilty enough about spending a very enjoyable day with another young man. And in a way it is his fault. It’s not like he’s been attentive.

“We did go sightseeing when you first arrived before all hell broke loose,” he says, his voice tight. “And what does sightseeing have to do with the fact that you collapsed during rehearsal and didn’t bother to tell me about it? Didn’t it occur to you that I might worry?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I was perfectly fine. How was I supposed to know that Calypso was going to run off and tell you straightaway?”

“I won’t even dignify the Calypso statement with an answer. The point is, you should have told me.” His jaw clenches.

“No. The point is you are making a mountain out of a molehill, like always!”

He pulls in front of the Wrights’ trim little brick house and I hop out, giving the door a satisfying slam. He follows me more sedately as if aggrieved by my childish behavior.

Leandra greets me at the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you tell by my face? Or could you sense it?” I ask, handing my coat to her housekeeper.

“Your face. And women’s intuition. And Cole looks terrible, so I know something happened.”

We follow her into the sitting room and she asks me if I want any refreshments. “Actually, I could use a brandy if you have it.”

Cole stiffens next to me, disapproval turning his mouth downward. I don’t care.

Arching a brow, Leandra brings me a drink and I sip it, allowing the warmth to fill my chest. I take a deep breath. “Did Cole tell you about Calypso getting attacked yesterday?”

Leandra listens intently as I tell her about Calypso staying with me and about my near collapse. When I finish, she pours another brandy and moves to stand in front of the fire.

Harrison comes into the room and gives Leandra a kiss on the cheek, his love for her evident in his eyes. My stomach knots. I wish Cole and I could be that easily affectionate.

Leandra pours another drink and hands it to Harrison.

“Do I look like an orphan?” Cole asks. “I’ve had a terrible day and need something to wash it down with.”

“I thought you disapproved of drinking,” I flash.

He looks down at the glass Leandra poured him. “Good God, where would you get that idea?”

From the look on your face when I asked for a drink,
I want to tell him, but I hold my tongue. Tonight his disapproval is just universal.

Leandra fills Harrison in while Cole and I sip our drinks. I’m very aware of the fact that we’re standing across the room from one another and I regret it, but I’m still too angry to make an overture of reconciliation and he either doesn’t want to or doesn’t know that he’s supposed to.

“Speaking of information, did you get the list of people who are experts in the occult?” Cole asks. I drag my attention back to the conversation.

Harrison nods. “As we suspected, there were the usual—university professors, spiritualists, et cetera—but several are very interesting.”

“Let me guess. Harry Price is one of them,” Leandra says.

“Of course. Mr. Casperson is on it, as well.”

“Really?” Cole’s voice goes up in surprise. “I wouldn’t have thought he was interested in that sort of thing.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Anyone interested in talking to the dead and other psychical phenomena would probably have at least a passing interest.”

Harrison’s snorts. “Well, his is more than a passing interest. He has studied extensively with one of the top occultists of our time—who, incidentally, is back in the country.”

“Who’s that?’

“Aleister Crowley.”

A chill prickles the hair on my arms. Mr. Casperson studied with the man the newspapers call the wickedest man in the world? I thought about how Casperson looked the last time I saw him at the séance. Sick. Nervous. Scared. Could he be the mole? Could he have killed Pratik?

I look at Cole and see he’s thinking along these same lines.

“Do you think Mr. Casperson could have had something to do with Pratik’s death?” he asks Harrison.

“It’s difficult to tell, but we need to keep a closer eye on him. I know Scotland Yard will be questioning most of the people on this list. I’ll make sure I am there when they get to Mr. Casperson.” He glances over at me. “My friend also told me how to destroy the poppet without hurting Anna. He’s going to help me do it tomorrow.”

“How?” I ask. The whole idea of someone creating a likeness of me to inflict harm terrifies me.

“We have to slowly warm it with our hands until the features become unrecognizable. Apparently, my friend is going to be casting some sort of protective spell over you, as well.”

My heart stutters. “I don’t have to be there, do I?”

Harrison shakes his head.

“Good, because I’m leaving for France the day after tomorrow.” I don’t say it out loud, but considering that I am still having episodes, it’s a very real possibility that whoever made the poppet has made another one, or worse.

Cole moves over to where I’m standing and takes my hand. His regret and love come through loud and clear and it occurs to me how lucky I am to have him in my life. In spite of the arguments we seem to keep having, our connection is still so strong. I wonder if I could fall in love with someone I didn’t have a psychic connection with.

Leandra pours another round of brandy for everyone. “You’re doing the Paris shows, right?”

“Just three days.”

She nods. “Good luck.”

I wince. The words seem inane after the topic we were just discussing and once again, I feel a strange disconnect between my life as a Sensitive and my life as a magician.

Is a normal life even possible? And more important, is it possible with Cole?

The question haunts me until it’s time for the troupe to leave for Paris. As I had expected, the doctor found nothing wrong with me, my mother found everything wrong with me, and Cole stuck close by. It was a relief to see my mother go so I could spend the afternoon with Cole. She seemed oddly reluctant to leave me and was only partly mollified that I would be seeing her shortly. As if in accord, Cole and I spoke of nothing negative and, as if sorry he hadn’t taken me anywhere for the past few weeks, he showed me the National Gallery then we found an old bookstore where we poked around for hours. It was probably the best time we’ve had together since I came to London. The thought saddens me even though I’m relieved we were able to reconnect before my trip to France.

The weather holds bright and clear as the troupe once again crosses the Channel to Calais but instead of heading east this time, we climb aboard a train headed south toward Paris. It’s funny to think that Mother and Jacques made this same journey yesterday. Of course, they were in the first-class carriage, while we’re riding in second class, but they too must have seen the countryside gripped in that magical moment between winter and spring. It’s the kind of weather that makes you think of bicycles and picnics that start out under soft blue skies and end in downpours.

Those of us in the troupe who’ve never been to France are riveted to the windows as our train meanders past medieval castles, soaring cathedrals, and charming stone cottages. It’s about four hours to Paris by train, and they slip by slowly as we travel through the small cities and towns with delectable names that roll off the tongue like Auchel, Amiens, and Beauvais. I’m so mesmerized by the passing scenery that I don’t notice that Billy has taken the seat next to me until he asks, “Are you feeling better today?”

I do, however, notice his voice, stiff and somewhat cold. I raise an eyebrow. “I feel much better, thank you.”

“Did you get some rest the other night after I left you at the hotel?”

His tone is leading and I nod again, puzzled by his behavior. “Actually, I packed first, but then I lay down. I’m fine now.”

There’s a moment of silence before he huffs, clearly irritated.

“What?” I ask, exasperated.

“I saw you going out with your friend after you told me you were too tired to go to supper with me.”

My face flames as the memory comes rushing back. I had lied to him and now I was caught in it.

“Are you his girlfriend? Is that why you gave me the gate, claiming to be exhausted, and then ran out with him?”

A thought pops into my head so forcefully it almost hurts. He’s jealous. He saw me with Cole and he’s jealous.

A little seed of pleasure sprouts in my chest.

What kind of person am I? What kind of girl moons over one fellow and then is almost giddy when she discovers another one is jealous over her?