“You’re not only embarrassing yourself, but me and your father as well.”īefore anyone could aid the ringmaster, he pried the serpent away and drew in air as if he’d been submerged in the seawater we traveled through. I held my own breath, unable to release the tension in my spine.
His eyes rolled backward until all I saw were their whites. “Good heavens,” Miss Prescott muttered when he dropped to his knees, wheezing. And I adored it more than I cared to admit. My breath came in short gasps that had nothing to do with the corset of my fine dress. To compile facts like the scientist-in-training I was. I almost stood, convinced we were bearing witness to this man’s death, but forced myself to breathe. My own breath caught when he bent over and sputtered, gasping for air. Mephistopheles clutched his throat, his bronze face turning a deep purple under the filigree mask. From one blink to the next, his tie was no longer made of cloth-it was a writhing snake, wrapping itself about his neck. “And horrified,” he continued, a slight croak now in his voice. Harvey and Miss Prescott among the first. “Tonight is the first of seven in which you will be dazzled.” The ringmaster lifted his arms, and a dozen white doves flew from his sleeves into the rafters. I had the distinct impression we were all prey dressed in our finest, and if we weren’t careful, we’d be devoured by his mysterious show. Mephistopheles prowled onstage, a caged animal waiting for an opportunity to strike. “Are you brave enough to survive? Perhaps you’ll be another who loses their heart and their head to my midnight minstrel show. “Our tricks might appear sweet, but I promise they are not treats,” he whispered. Passengers fidgeted, probably wondering at the sort of bargains they might make-how low they might fall in the pursuit of pleasure so far from society’s watchful shores.
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