Free Mrs. Houdini by Victoria Kelly

pain, but also the way she knew it would change them both, how they would emerge, not unscathed but happier.
    â€œYou are my own,” he said.

    As a performer, Harry had determined that true power belonged to those who knew how to create not merely illusions but transformations. It was a fact of human nature, he said, that people wished to become something else. They wanted to travel to that mysterious in-between place that lives only in magic, which ordinary men and women cannot reach. Characters in fairy tales were awakened from death as if they had only been asleep—they hovered, suspended, between two worlds—and Harry knew that people wanted this experience for themselves. If they could go to that place, and come back from it, they would somehow be different—they, too, would be anointed and saved.
    This was the secret that drove the success of Harry’s Metamorphosis trick—when one person was locked inside the trunk, and disappeared, and then reemerged free and unbound; it was as if he had been able to pass through walls, to fade into the ether in which the secret, dreamed-about places lay, and come back from it changed.
    It was with great surprise that after their first night together, as the morning breathed itself through the open window of Harry’s room, Bess learned that she was expected to take Dash’s place in the trick. Dash wanted to strike out on his own, Harry said; he had never quite been comfortable with the uncertainty of the profession, and he wanted to return to the city and try his hand at other things.
    â€œYou and I will be the Houdinis now,” he said, beaming. “Harry and Bess. We’ll be on the billing together.”
    Bess was aghast. “You can’t be serious. A few days isn’t enough time for me to practice all those tricks.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine. You’re much smaller than Dash—it will actually be better this way.”
    Of course, she knew that what he was doing was merely deception, and if one knew the secret one could easily step into another’s part. Surely, as a Floral Sister she had been playing a part. Still, knowing how tricks were done and doing them were two different things altogether.
    â€œWhat should I wear? I don’t imagine I could wear one of my singing costumes, with all those feathers.”
    Harry went over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of thin black tights. “You can wear these.”
    Bess took one look at the tights, hanging limply from his hand like a wrinkled snakeskin, and burst out laughing.
    â€œI couldn’t possibly! You’ll—you’ll have me look like a prostitute, in front of all those people?”
    â€œOh, don’t be embarrassed, Bess. I’ve been to plenty of shows—circuses, things like that. This is what the women wear. You’ll have some kind of a dress on, too. Just—not so much as you’re used to.”
    â€œI don’t think I can step onto a stage in that.” Out of costume, her usual nonstage underclothes alone consisted of drawers and an undershirt, a drawstring corset, a petticoat, a long-sleeved chemise, silk stockings and garters. “I’ve never shown so much of myself.”
    Harry laughed. “Yes, you have.”
    â€œMy singing costume wasn’t that—”
    â€œWith me. Last night.”
    Bess glared at him. “You’re a lousy brute!”
    Harry shrugged. He was much more cavalier when he was talking about his act—a different person altogether, not the tender, nervous boy of the night before. Still, his stage arrogance—the confidence, the clear-eyed determination—was alluring.
    â€œBesides, I’ll bet you know how to do half of my magic already. I’ll test you. The ropes—”
    She shook her head. “Now you are trying to fool me. That’s the one thing that’s not a trick. I’ll bet you really do know how to break out of those ropes and