Light Fantastique (31 page)

And Firmin thinks I can figure out the key.

She knew she would have to reach back farther than Fausta to the mind of the author of the manuscript, but she wasn't so good at directing her talent that she could force objects to show her things, particularly not objects of low density like paper and cloth.

There must be something I can do, some key somewhere. The priest said something about one they were burning. Perhaps it's survived at the temple. But which one?

A knock on the atelier door startled her.

“
Entree!
”

Marie entered. A thousand questions leapt to Iris's mind, but she only asked, “How did you sleep?”

Marie's cheeks flamed, and she looked away. “Fine.”

“Did you have sweet dreams of Johann?”

“Alas, the situation is not that simple. But I'm not here to talk about him. I saw Amelie Lafitte this morning. She's extremely neurotic after something happened at the student gathering referenced in Cinsault's letter.”

“What happened?”

“I'm not sure, but I've sent for Davidson to investigate the church next door. That's where they met. She brought this brochure back with her.”

Marie handed Iris the pamphlet, and the symbol brought her back momentarily to the evening in her father's study. “It's the neo-Pythagorean symbol.”

“Yes. Can you read it?”

“I think so. It's Greek, which I'm not as strong in as in Latin. We should get Doctor Radcliffe to take a look at it—he's much better than I am.”

“That's not quite what I meant.” Marie gestured to Iris's hands. “What the brochure says may not be as important as what it can show us about the meeting.”

“I can try, but paper doesn't hold impressions as well.” She closed her eyes and focused on the brochure the impressions it gave her had the quality of candle smoke in a breeze—hard to see and even harder to sense beyond the occasional whiff. “Faint screams and rustling, that's all.” She opened her eyes. “But the rustling sounds like what we heard at the marquis's chateau.”

“She said something about that, and that now that the rose is open, the thorns will dance.”

“The voice in the temple!” Iris had tried not to think too much about that day when Edward had saved her but lost his sense of self, but the words had been etched into her mind. “It said, ‘The rose is opening.'”

“What rose?” Marie asked. “It's winter.”

“It has to have something to do with the Eros Element. It can be made into a weapon, and something about the numbers in this manuscript is the key.”

Footsteps on the stairs outside the atelier startled them.

“Mademoiselles?” Inspector Davidson called.

“In here,” Iris said.

When he came through the door, the paleness of his face such that even his freckles had disappeared shocked Iris.

“You were right, Mademoiselle St. Jean. We found the immolated remains of what must have been a painting in its frame. You're all lucky that somehow it didn't catch the gunpowder in there. The main question is how.”

Marie put a hand to her throat, and she and Iris exchanged a panicked look. They had all come too close to being blown up.

“But it may play to your advantage, Mademoiselle. You see, these were delivered to me this morning.”

“What are they?” Iris asked.

He held out the photographs of Marie embracing Johann and of Johann and Frederic arguing in front of the broken window in the theatre.

“Bollocks,” Iris murmured.

“I'm not sure what to pursue, a mysterious fire that could have killed all of you or the fact that someone very badly wants Maestro Bledsoe to be blamed for Frederic LeClerc's murder. Who took these photos?”

“Would you believe a spirit?” Marie asked.

* * * * *

Marie met Johann in the theatre lobby after his rehearsal but before hers, and the expression on his face told her that he had seen the same pictures she did. They passed the window repairmen, who gave them suspicious looks.

“There's nothing like blackmail for breakfast,” he told her.

She tried to smile, but the tightness around her mouth that had started when she saw the photographs wouldn't let her. “That's not something to joke about. The spirit wants you out of the way. But there's something bigger going on.”

She filled him in on what Amelie Lafitte had told her and the strange burned painting in the church that didn't catch fire to any of the other very flammable things in there.

“And what of the other students?” he asked.

That at least was a relief. “Davidson is going to talk to Amelie and get their names, then try to track them down.
He says not to go anywhere, though.”

Johann snorted. “Right. We're trapped here, as your friend in the theatre can attest. Did you tell Davidson about him?”

Although he must have meant the words as a joke, they jolted Marie. “He's not my friend. As for Davidson, he wants to help me trap the inventor, but he's pulled too thin right now to get involved in a love triangle murder.”

They reached the townhouse, and Johann pulled Marie into the receiving parlor and shut the door. He took her into his arms and bypassed the offer of her lips to kiss the top of her head.

She jerked away. “I knew it. You're disappointed in me now that you know what I've done.”

“I don't consider any of that your fault, particularly as I've also acted stupidly in order to obtain my freedom.”

Marie's nerves felt as though they were fringed, each end raw, and she didn't care to put on a role to deal with the situation. “So you're calling me stupid.”

“Now you're determined to make me at fault. I got enough of that from my family.”

“And you're trying to convince yourself that what I did doesn't matter, but your actions show how you truly feel.”

“That doesn't matter to me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I need to know something, though. How do you do what you do on stage? How are you so convincing?”

Dark spots appeared at the edges of Marie's vision. “What do you mean?”

“The spirit alluded to it, and Radcliffe has observed it. When you're in a role, you change.”

Bitterness came to the back of Marie's throat. This was it, the final secret. She recalled her mother's words,
Focus on Maestro Bledsoe—he is accustomed to being one thing and acting another. Ask how he manages it.

But would he believe her? And would she then have to explain to him that he wasn't attracted to her, but the ideal woman she played?

She bolted for the door. “I have to go. I have to eat before rehearsal.”

A quick glance over her shoulder told her he really was disappointed in her, but she couldn't tell him what she could do because then what if he thought that was how she'd gotten in trouble with Cobb? Or that she'd used it to ensnare him?

No, she would be better off trying to manage it on her own.

Chapter Thirty-Three

T
héâtre Bohème, 8 December 1870

As the orchestra warmed up for the opening night performance of Light Fantastique, Johann was grateful he was familiar with the music. He'd be relying on his hands and fingers to play the notes because his mind and heart would be on stage with Marie.

She'd avoided him since Tuesday when he'd asked her his awkward question, but when he'd snuck in to watch the rehearsals, he'd noticed what Radcliffe and the spirit had alluded to. She took on the look and demeanor of the character, and when she glanced out to where the audience would be, the force of her persona hit him, club-like, in the middle of his chest.

She was his ideal, and he wanted her completely.

On one hand, he was impressed with her ability, but on the other, terror strong enough to double him over punched him in the gut at the thought of the spirit or Parnaby Cobb, whom Lucille had confirmed was in Paris, seeing her and having the same reaction.

And he knew without a doubt that she was perfect for him even when she wasn't playing a part. He craved her kisses and wanted more, but he also admired her ability to take care of herself and her loyalty to her family. He'd never met someone as simultaneously tough and tender as she. But what he admired most of all was that she'd found the courage to stop running from what she feared the most. He understood why she had wanted to avoid the stage. Now if only she'd confide in him about what she did to return to it.

Johann couldn't see the crowd, but the murmurs and shuffling of clothing told him that it was a full house. Just after they played the overture, a hush indicated that something of significance had occurred. He glanced up to the best-positioned box to see that the empress had arrived with the emperor's cousin. The emperor himself wasn't there, and it was rumored that he was ill after his brief imprisonment by the Prussians before his spies had broken him out. The empress nodded and gestured for the actors and musicians to continue.

Marie took the stage in a fake box toward the top, and the audience applauded wildly at the reappearance of their beloved Fantastique. Once their adulation subsided, a slow clap brought all eyes to a box on the opposite side of the theatre, where Parnaby Cobb sat and didn't stop applauding until Marie acknowledged that she'd seen him.

Johann held his breath and calculated the quickest way to get to her if he needed to, but she only nodded as regally as the empress had. Johann suspected that only he saw the flash of fear in her eyes.

As the main male character descended into a madness brought on by love and opium, Johann similarly felt pulled down into the bog of his emotions. He had to watch the score, Fouré, and the stage, but he also had to ensure Cobb stayed in his box, and the return from the two intermissions was maddening waiting for him to reappear. There was an empty box that had been reserved, but it stayed unoccupied, and Johann guessed that was where the spirit watched.

And she is the idealized woman in a room full of fools and madmen.

At the end of the play, the actors made their curtain calls, and the audience showered Marie with flowers. She indicated Fouré and Johann. He was surprised to find he also received loud applause, and Fouré complimented him on his passionate performance. A few of the other musicians offered him grudging congratulations, and Inspector Davidson, who had also been in the audience, shook his hand.

“A great performance, Maestro. Makes me glad I waited to arrest you.”

Johann's attention narrowed to where the inspector held his hand tightly. “Wait, what?”

“I'm sorry, but my superiors have made it clear that there have been too many strange goings-on around the theatre, and there's a lot of pressure for an arrest to show that some progress is being made.”

“Can't this wait?”

“The security of Paris depends on it.”

Johann tried to pull away, but the inspector's grip crushed Johann's hand.

“But I didn't kill Frederic LeClerc. I had an alibi. Two, actually.”

“Your alibi is dead and disappeared. I tried but couldn't find the woman who talked to Professor Bailey.”

Johann looked up to the boxes. The empress had disappeared after the final act and just before the curtain calls, and Cobb was also gone. Would he try to go backstage?

“Look, Inspector, I'll go with you willingly if you will stay with me this evening. I fear Mar—I mean Fantastique is in danger of being kidnapped.”

“As long as you don't leave my sight, I will stay with her to protect her. Who do you think is going to try to kidnap her?”

“One of two madmen.”

“And if I do this for you, you will help me and go willingly under arrest until I can find the real murderer?”

Johann gripped the inspector's hand in return. “So you don't believe I did it.”

“No, I don't. But I need to maintain my position here to continue my work.”

“At least I should be safe from the Guild in jail.”

But the look on the inspector's face told Johann he might be a sitting goose, and his name would be foie gras once the Clockwork Guild could re-enter Paris or activate a sleeper agent to finish him off.

* * * * *

Marie acc
epted the congratulations of the cast and select members of the audience her mother had deemed worthy of visiting her backstage, but she couldn't help but look around for Johann. She had managed her ability to take on the role, and while sometimes it had felt like a runaway team of horses, she had wrested control and had the best performance of her life.

Finally he appeared, and although he grinned when he saw her, the lift of his cheeks didn't match the tension around his eyes. Inspector Davidson followed behind him like a shadow.

“What's wrong?” Marie asked him.

“I came to congratulate you, and the inspector is here to protect you. Parnaby Cobb is in the audience, and we don't know what your friend downstairs is going to do.”

“You didn't answer the question.” She was sweating in the costume wedding gown. She thought she'd noticed the distinctive rose-colored glow of the Eros Element in the footlights, but the gas lights still heated the stage. A shadow fell across them, and she looked up to see Parnaby Cobb approaching them.

“A marvelous performance, my dear!” He kissed both her cheeks in the French fashion. “I'm so glad you've put your talent to good use during your leave of absence.”

“I didn't take a leave of absence,” she told him. “You fired me.”

Lucille walked up to them, her mouth set into a firm line. “Monsieur Cobb.”

“Madame St. Jean, you're looking well.”

“What are you doing here? I told you never to set foot in my theatre again.” The stage hands came from the side and back of the stage to stand around here and form a protective barrier between Cobb and Marie. Fouré stood beside Lucille.

“I'm only here to congratulate Marie and see when she wants to return to work for me.”

Johann put an arm around Marie, and she leaned into him. “The answer to that is never.”

“Oh, so you would prefer to consort with a murderer than with me?” He assumed his kindly uncle expression that made Marie's stomach turn because she knew that was when he was about to spring a trap.

“He hasn't killed anyone.”

“Oh, really? There are photographs that are pretty damning evidence, my dear, and I know for a fact that the inspector is going to cart him off to jail as soon as the festivities are over.”

Marie's mind leaped off Cobb's words. How did he know about the photographs? And Johann was to be arrested?

“By whose orders?” she asked.

“The chief of police. Paris is an unsafe enough place. There's no reason for a murderer to be walking about free, and it would be quite scandalous for a famous actress to take up with him.”

“That might help my reputation,” Marie said. “You don't know the French.”

“I know enough of them.”

The barely healed wound in Marie's heart opened again. “Fine. I get it. You have the chief of police in your pocket. I should have guessed. What do you want for Maestro Bledsoe's freedom?”

“Only for you to come back to work for me. I'm interested to find out what your friend Professor Bailey has been working on, and I have not forgotten my promise to ensure Miss McTavish's academic career. I would hate for her talents to go to waste if no school were to have her.”

Marie had to remind herself to breathe. He was willing to ruin all of them to get her back.

“And what of the play?” Lucille asked. “She is the star, our Fantastique.”

“I'm sure that Miss Sellers can step into the role admirably. That's why I paid for her passage here.”

Iris and Edward had come backstage during the conversation. Marie was relieved to see Iris clutch Edward's arm and pulled him into the shadows before Cobb saw them. Iris mimed a puppet master pulling the strings, and Marie nodded to show she understood. Cobb had never been out of the picture. He'd only been abiding his time until they made some progress with the Eros Element.

Marie's main focus was on securing Johann's freedom. A flash of gold caught the corner of her eye, and panic exploded in her chest. A clockwork butterfly clung to the curtains to their right.

The Guild! Right, Cobb is involved with it. If Johann goes to jail, they'll have him trapped, and he won't last a week.

She swallowed the bitterness and closed her eyes, prepared to take on her most hated role, that of Marie the maid, the repentant employee.

“I will come work for you,” she said.

“No!” Johann and Lucille shouted. Johann's arm turned to rock around her shoulders.

Cobb ignored them and looked her over. “You're willing to do that to buy your lover's freedom?”

“I will do as you say.” Marie pulled away from Johann, who kept contact with her as long as he could and reached after her.

She'd taken two steps toward Cobb when a voice came from above them, “Parnaby Cobb, you and I have unfinished business.”

The spirit,
still in his metal mask and cape, rode down one of the ropes and landed with a flourish that Johann had to admire. He didn't think he'd be glad to see the spirit again, but he was happy for anything that would keep Marie out of Cobb's clutches until he could come up with some way to rescue her.

If he was smart like Edward, he could…

Edward!

Johann had seen him and Iris in the shadows, and Johann caught Edward's eye. He made a turning motion with his hand and mouthed, “Turn up the aether light!”

Sure, he didn't know whether the right frequency was up or down, but he hoped Edward would get what he meant.

Iris whispered to Edward, who nodded. They disappeared into the shadows, and Johann waited and listened. He recalled that the inspector carried a weapon, but the spirit had the same thought. The spirit grabbed Marie and held the gun to her throat. Johann kept himself from lunging after her.

“Lay your weapons down, gentlemen,” the mad inventor said. “Or I shall finish Fantastique.”

Davidson did as he said, as did some of the stage hands. At the spirit's direction, they threw the weapons into the now-empty orchestra pit.

“You stole my plans,” the spirit said to Cobb. He still held Marie.

Cobb laughed, clearly surprised. “Oh, Paul Farrell, is that you? Why are you wearing that ridiculous mask?”

The spirit stiffened, and Johann crept behind him. He feared the madman would twitch or jump, and that would be it for Marie.

“I liberated an automaton from the tunnels, and it has allowed me to borrow its face.”

“In that case, I
liberated
your designs. You didn't have the resources to implement them, and I paid you well.”

“You paid me barely a pittance.”

“You gambled it all away to the Clockwork Guild.”

“And now I know that you orchestrated that event to keep me in your power. You don't let go of people once you have them. I want my plans back, Cobb.”

Johann wondered if he and the spirit had gotten caught in a similar trap. Even if he could pay back what he owed, would he ever be free?

He would worry about that later. He watched the lights and waited for a certain tint to tell him it was time to take advantage of the other's high emotions and act.

He only hoped he'd be able to keep his own under control.

* * * * *

Edward led
Iris down the stairs to the control area for the theatre's lighting system. They'd adjusted the volume of the aether gas so that the lights still had an extra warm and flattering glow and the frequency to a benign level. His hands trembled at the thought of what he would have to do.

Patrick O'Connell stood in front of the bank of dials and levers, shutting it down.

“Stop!” Edward said.

Patrick started, and his frown deepened when he saw them. “What's happening?”

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—”