Born of Deception

Nine

The train broke down. Again.

This is the third time our train has had unexplained mechanical problems. Louie’s starting to mutter about a curse and the rest of the troupe agrees that they’ve never had such bad luck. At least this time the train broke before we left the station and we can wait in relative comfort.

I take advantage of the lull and hurry to a public telephone. Even more unsure of Polish money than I am of British pounds, I reverse the charge and hope that the butler, or whoever answers the phone, will accept.

To my relief it’s Cole.

“Anna!”

My heart leaps at the sound of his voice. “Cole!”

“How are you?” we ask at the same time and then we laugh.

“You first. How is the tour going?”

“Fantastic. We played our final show last night and I should be home in a few days, barring any more train troubles.”

“Train troubles?”

“I’ll tell you when I get back. How is everything with you? Have you started school yet?”

“No. I’m going to wait until the fall. With everything going on . . .”

I hear the concern in his voice. “Has anything else happened?”

He lowers his voice. “Not exactly. We do have more information about Pratik’s death, though. That stone he had in his hand? It had markings on it. Harrison used his contacts to get it checked out. We already knew that it was cult related, but now believe that it was some sort of black magic. Whoever did it needed Pratik’s blood for a spell.”

My stomach turns as I think of that handsome, sad young man. Who could do something like that? “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

I could hear his sigh. “No, but the Yard is doing a search on anyone in the country who is an expert in the occult or black magic. Of course, that also includes university professors, et cetera. Once we have the list, we can check it against people who might have knowledge of our existence.”

I shut my eyes for a moment. I’ve been so busy performing I almost forgot about the horror waiting for me back in London. Plus, I have my own horror to contend with here. The strange nocturnal occurrence hasn’t happened again, but I have shared a room with Sandy for most of the trip since Budapest. I have, however, had two of those strange buzzing headaches as if a hive of honeybees has been loosed in my head. I decide against telling Cole over the phone. Though no one is paying much attention to me, people are milling about rather close. “I should be able to help once I return,” I tell him. “I’ll have several days off.” I don’t say maybe we can do something fun, because it seems so petty considering everything, but I do need it. I need to spend time with Cole alone doing something other than talking about cults and murders. The tour has drained me and I long with all my heart to do something lighthearted and crazy and fun.

Just then Billy strolls past, his handsome features alight with interest as he views the world around him. A slight smile curves his lips as if he finds life endlessly wonderful. He spots me and his smile deepens. A slow blush travels up my body and I smile and duck my head before he can spot the redness in my cheeks. Cole’s saying something but I miss it. “Excuse me? I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll meet you at the station. Perhaps we can go get something to eat? I won’t have a lot of time if the investigation heats up, but I’m sure we can figure out something.”

I swallow. I can hear the worry in his voice and know his quick mind has already leaped to something else. I confirm the date and time of my arrival and pause, waiting for him to say something personal. He pauses too, and for a moment neither of us says anything.

“I guess I’ll see you then?”

A lump rises in my throat and I nod before realizing he can’t see me. “Yes.”

“All right. And, Anna?”

“Yes?”

“I miss you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing at all. “I miss you, too.”

I hang up, my heart swelling with disappointment. Seeing Louie waving at me from across the station, I quietly gather my things and join the rest of the troupe. They’re chatting excitedly about the new luxury train that had been brought in to take us stranded passengers to our new destination. Billy is by my side in a heartbeat. “Do you need any help?”

I shake my head.

“You just ask if you need anything, you hear? I’ll be right there.” His blue eyes smile at me and my pulse races.

I could be in trouble.

My excitement mounts as the train lurches into London. The journey from Calais to London had seemed interminable, but now that it’s over, it feels as if the entire trip sped by. The troupe fell into an easy routine of traveling and performing and, after some tweaking here and there, we had really come together. Of course, being stuck together during the great train debacles helped. Nothing like being thrown together for hours to forge the bonds and friendships necessary to create a group of people eager for the success of a show. The larger changes, such as reordering acts, will be done over the next few weeks.

“Are you excited to be back in London?” Billy sits in the seat next to me that Jeanne had just vacated.

“Being in the same circus makes us practically kissing cousins,” he’d drawled the second night we went out to eat after a performance. I’d blushed, but he gave me such a devilish grin that I ended up laughing.

“Actually I am,” I told him. “It will be nice to have a few days off.”

“Do you have any plans?”

I chew on my lip. As excited as I am to see Cole, it also means dealing with all the trouble with the Society and a murder investigation. It’s not like I’m returning to a happy homecoming. “Visit with friends, I suppose,” I say.

“No sightseeing? That’s no fun. You should get out and see more of jolly old England. Don’t you want to see Big Ben or London Bridge or the National Gallery?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to an art museum while you’re here?”

He shifts in his seat. “Well, no,” he admits. “But I would like to see Madame Tussauds wax museum.”

“I’d like to see that too, actually.”

He nods. “Let’s do it, then. Before we go to France, we’ll go to Madame Tussauds.”

I swallow, thinking of the investigation, the Society, seeing Cole. “I’m not sure I’m going to have time . . .” My voice trails off awkwardly.

For a moment, a shadow crosses his face. “Oh, sure. Well, let me know if you do. If not, I can always go with Sal and Sandy.”

My stomach hollows. I’d love to go with him, but is it fair to bring him into the craziness of my life? “I’ll let you know. I really would like to go.” I give him a smile to illustrate my sincerity and he nods.

“Sounds good.”

He returns to his seat just as the train lurches into Charing Cross station. I forget everything as I scan the crowd for Cole’s tall form. I don’t see him as the train comes to a stop and I drum my fingers on the armrest of my seat, waiting to disembark.

When it’s time to get off, I snatch up my valise and handbag and get in the line heading out the door. I step onto the platform, my eyes flicking this way and that, until I finally spot Cole’s black Homburg tipped just so. I wave my valise wildly, grinning like a happy monkey. The doubts that have plagued me for the last few weeks vanish like a puff of smoke.

I rush down the steps, my chest pounding. It’s not until I’m within several feet of him that I realize he doesn’t seem to be nearly as happy to see me as I am him. I falter, wondering if he’s going to hug me in greeting or just stand there like a lump of handsome flesh. Discomfort sticks out all over him, from the clenching of his jaw to the tension running across his broad shoulders.

My throat tightens in disappointment. What’s wrong? Has something happened or is this just Cole being Cole and not wanting to show affection in public? And why can’t anything just be simple with us anymore? He bends and gives me an awkward kiss on the cheek. “Welcome back. I hope you had a good trip.”

It’s hard to believe this is the same boy who gave me such a passionate kiss at our good-bye. “Fine, thank you.”

Cole reaches out and takes my valise. As his hand brushes mine I try to make a connection but can’t.

“Do we need to get your things?” he asks.

Hurt runs through me and tears prick my eyes. I try to tell myself that everything is fine, that this is just the way Cole is, but it doesn’t help. “Just the trunk with my clothes in it. All the props are being taken to the theater.”

We wait for the porter to unload my case and I try to make an emotional connection with Cole.

Nothing.

My chest constricts. Cole is blocking me. Why? Is he feeling something he doesn’t want me to know about?

“Anna!”

My head swivels and Billy gives me a easygoing wave. “I’ll see you later?”

His handsome face is so open and friendly that I smile and nod. “Of course!”

His magnetic one-of-a-kind smile lights up his face and he gives me another wave.

Jealousy hits me like a bag of bricks and I turn to Cole in disbelief before the block goes up again. He snatches up my bag. “Are we ready?” he asks. His mouth flattens into a tight line and his back is ramrod straight.

I nod, resentment keeping me mute. How dare he be angry with me because I smiled and waved at someone I work with? How dare he?

Cole clears his throat as we leave the station. “I was a bit worried I’d be late to meet you. Leandra and Calypso held me up at the Society. Calypso wanted to come with me, but Leandra needed to talk to her.”

His voice may contain a note of apology, but the words are like darts aimed at my heart. Only Cole would think it all right to tell his girl that he was almost late to get her because of other women.

Once we reach the motorcar, he opens my door and I get in, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and concern swirling in my stomach. I don’t even know what to say to him. This is definitely not the welcome I had expected, but considering our argument before I left, perhaps I should have. Maybe I was a fool to think that the kiss had made up for it?

“What’s going on?” I ask bluntly after he starts the car.

He glances at me, his brows drawn together. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There’s so much going on, I don’t know what you want to know about first.”

Us. I want to know what is going on with us. But all my emotions are tangled inside, so instead I blurt, “What were you doing with Calypso and Leandra?”

He glances over at me, his brows raised. “With everything that’s happening, that’s what you want to know first?”

Why does he have to make me feel so small? “I was just wondering,” I mutter.

“It’s like I said. I stopped at the Society this morning and she and Leandra both happened to be there. What is the matter with you? Don’t you like them?”

Why does he have to sound so reasonable? “Nothing is the matter. Of course, I like them. I’m just tired. Forget I said anything.” I stare out the window, holding back tears of anger and confusion.

Silence falls until Cole clears his throat again. “Now, would you like to hear about the investigation?”

Actually, I’m torn between wanting to hit him and wanting to kiss him, so I just take a deep breath and nod. His face gets serious and I marvel at the way he can separate all his feelings into little boxes. Along with his analytical mind, it’s one of the qualities that will make him a good detective.

I don’t think I’ll ever be that focused and I try to keep my mind on what he’s saying.

“We haven’t had as many breakthroughs as we’d like, but odd things keep popping up. We did finally find a witness who saw Pratik on the day he disappeared.”

“That’s good!” I exclaim.

“Yes, except when Harrison and I went to interrogate her, she seemed incredibly confused and had a hard time even recalling the incident.”

I frown. “How did you know about her in the first place?”

“We spoke to a shopkeeper near where Mr. Gamel and Pratik live and he pointed us in her direction. Evidently, the woman mentioned the incident to him. She says she thought it odd to see an Indian man being led by a white woman as if he were blind.”

I screw up my face, trying to understand. “And now she acts like she doesn’t remember?”

Cole nods. “Strange, right? Of course, she complained of having a horrible headache, so we made arrangements to return later that week, but that interview didn’t go any better. She said she only vaguely recalls the incident and has no details. She can’t remember what the woman looked like at all.”

He pulls over in front of my hotel but doesn’t get out of the car so I stay put as well.

“Do you have any other leads?”

“Apparently Pratik had been acting strangely the week before his disappearance. Very moody. Well, you met him. But according to Rose and Jenny, he had been really talkative with them. Rose even thought maybe he had fallen in love.”

I frown. “That’s not the sense I got at all when I met him. Did you notice him acting that way?”

Cole shakes his head. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but I didn’t see much of him in the week before he disappeared. The day we came to get you was the first day I’d seen him in almost two weeks. He seemed preoccupied, but I thought maybe he was really involved in some testing. Sometimes that happens.”

“Who was he working with?”

“Mr. Price.” Cole chews on his upper lip, his dark eyes brooding. I try to get a sense of what he’s feeling, but all I get is his worry. At least he’s not blocking me. “What?” I ask, knowing there’s more.

“Someone tried to take Leandra. That’s one of the reasons I was at the Society this morning.”

I straighten. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. She sent the boys to stay with Harrison’s mother in the country but spent the night in the apartment at the Society. Harrison had a late night and didn’t want her to be alone so she stayed with the rest of the Sensitives. She was attacked on her way home the next morning. She was walking and someone grabbed her from behind and tried to pull her into an alley. Luckily a Good Samaritan happened by. Harrison is fit to be tied, because very few people knew she wasn’t staying in her house.”

“Maybe someone is following her?”

“Perhaps.” I can tell by his voice that he doesn’t believe it.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“Harrison and I believe there’s a very good chance that it’s someone inside the organization. Or that at the very least someone from the inside is giving out information.”

I swallow. “To Dr. Boyle?”

He shrugs. “There’s no hard evidence that he’s involved, but you and I both know it’s a very real possibility.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“No. That’s where you come in. You’re the only person we know who can sense what other people are feeling. The Society is trying the business-as-usual approach, so the scientists are running tests. They are all chomping at the bit to test you, so I thought maybe you could check out the scientists first and then make up something to get close to the board of directors. Most of them are scientists too, but not all of them.”

I nod. “I’ll be happy to help out in any way I can, but as you know, my abilities are still erratic. They’re more powerful now, but I can’t always pick up someone’s emotions by sending out a pulse strand, the way you taught me. Sometimes I need to touch them.” When Cole began training me to control my sensitivity to other people’s emotions, he told me to envision myself connecting to them with an imaginary ribbon that pulses with their feelings. The description is apt if a bit fanciful, and the name stuck.

“I know.” Cole leans back in the seat, thinking.

I bite my lip, knowing what I have to do. “I think I know a way I can touch all of them without anyone being suspicious.”

“What’s that?”

“I can hold a séance. They’re going to want to test me anyway. That would be a perfect way to get a good read off all of them at once.”

He turns toward me and takes both of my hands in his. The gesture and the caring I feel from him bring tears of relief to my eyes. I blink them back.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asks, his voice soft. “I know how much they upset you.”

I shiver, remembering how it felt to be a ghost’s mouthpiece. “Maybe I don’t have to have a real séance. I can just pretend to have one until I get a solid read on everyone.”

“If I remember correctly, the séances you were doing with your mother were fake until suddenly they weren’t. We’ve practiced trying to control how and when you feel someone’s emotions, but we haven’t played around with your ability to conjure up dead people or your visions of the future.”

He has a point. “But Walter is the only spirit I’ve actually brought up. Perhaps that was just an anomaly?”

“Do you really want to risk it? What if we summon something or someone we can’t control?”

I chew on my thumb, wishing I had a deck of cards. Shuffling calms me, and right now my nerves are pinging around my stomach like manic grasshoppers. I think of Jonathon, a young man I didn’t even know, and poor Pratik, who I had only met once before he was brutally murdered. I’m connected to both of them in a way that is both baffling and frightening. Then I think about Leandra, Calypso, Jenny, and the other Sensitives who I do know and I’m sure of what I need to do. If someone is targeting Sensitives and someone within the Society knows about it, shouldn’t I do anything in my power to stop it? Wouldn’t that be worth the risk?

I turn to Cole.

“Let’s do it.”

He nods slowly. “I’ll talk to Harrison and Leandra as soon as possible.”

We cart my things into the lobby and then he kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll let you unpack and rest. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

I nod and he’s gone, leaving me feeling orphaned and alone. I try to shrug it off, but the feeling clings to me, soft and limp, like a damp blanket.

I check at the desk for messages and mail and receive a handful. Clutching them, I follow the porter who hauls my trunk up three flights of stairs, because the lift is broken again. I wish Louie had at least sprung for a hotel with a lift that didn’t threaten to plummet to the ground with every groan.

After putting my trunk in my room, he hovers, waiting for his tip. I cover my sigh with a smile as I hand him a coin. I’ll have to get more money from the bank tomorrow. Payday isn’t for another week.

Unpacking my clothes, I make a pile to send out to get washed tomorrow. At least the hotel has a laundry service. I rinsed my black beaded dress several times over the three-week tour to get the blood out, but even laundered it will never be the same. Not to mention it smells bad, which made everything else stink, even after Billy found me a cloth bag to wrap it in.

I empty my trunk and am about to close the lid when I notice a lump about two inches long under the lining. Some sort of object is stuck under the silk, but I don’t see any loose spots where something could have slipped underneath. The silk lining is pulled tight and sewn under the leather of the trunk. Frowning, I run my finger around the top and find an area that feels different from the rest. I bend for a closer look. The spot is only about an inch long, but it appears as if it’s been glued instead of sewn.

Working it with my fingernail, I pull the hole open and then yank on the threads to make it large enough to get my hand in. Tilting the trunk to make it easier, I pull out the object. It’s warm to the touch and I drop it the moment I realize what it is.

A poppet.

One of my friends from the circus, Alice Brown, a former maid from Atlanta, also known as Komatchu, the Last of the Zulu Princesses, taught me about poppets, or voodoo dolls. Her mama used to make them on a regular basis to curse people she thought had wronged her. Alice, a devout Baptist, didn’t believe in them, exactly, but said she had seen too many strange things happen to people after her mama fashioned one of those dolls.

Gingerly, I pick up the poppet and sit it on the dresser. It’s made of wax and molded into the crude figure of a woman. Bright blue beads make up the eyes and a bit of red ribbon is worked into the wax to resemble the mouth. A scrap of cloth is wrapped around it and there are a few human hairs stuck to the head. The hair is dark brown.

Like mine.

My heart vaults up into my throat and my stomach churns. No. It can’t be me. Why would anyone want to curse me? Maybe it had been there when Jacques and Mother gave me the trunk? No. It had been brand-new from the shop.

My legs give out and I sit heavily on the bed, staring at the little effigy meant to be me. I think of the lights in the mirror and the mental confusion that has plagued me like it did at Cole’s house and at the Society meeting. Cold runs through me as I remember that Pratik had been killed ritualistically. As much as I detest Dr. Boyle, his lust was for money and power. This, this is something else.

One thing is certain. I need to tell Cole right away.