Proposition
Edward ran his hands over his hairless upper lip before he lifted his glass for a drink. He missed his mustache, but yesterday’s close call had him nervous. Firebreathing was a fairly simple act, usually, but he’d been slipping as of late. Drinking more meant he slept poorly, but he couldn’t help it. This time of year reminded him of losing their mother, of watching Clara take over her gig, of days spent crying together as they, two awkward teenagers, suddenly had to find their way in a rather adult world.
He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice a man claim the barstool beside him, but the stranger’s voice snapped him out of his spiral. “Hey – I recognize you. You were the firebreather at the circus today.”
Edward’s eyes swam to the man’s tan suit curiously. “You don’t seem to be the circus type.”
“Not usually. I went for the medium – you know her?”
“Unfortunately, I shared a womb with her. My twin sister.”
The stranger rotated in his stool to face him. “She’s got quite the gift, you know. Like, she’s truly gifted.”
Edward scoffed and grabbed his glass. After a deep drink, he wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry to say, buddy, you’re all wet here. It’s a graft. All spiritualists are. We learned the trade from our mother.”
“She thinks she’s pulling a scam, but I tested her. She’s the only medium who saw through my charade. Listen, buddy, I’m trying desperately to get through to the other side. My mother died unexpectedly a handful of years back, and she left me their fortune… But there’s more. They never told me where they hid it. If I can get through to them, I’ll offer a finder’s fee. Ten percent, perhaps?”
Edward’s ears perked up, so he set his glass down and rotated to face the stranger. “A finder’s fee, you say? How much do you think this hidden fortune is worth?”
“My father founded the Iron Clad Manufacturing Company. I know the bankruptcy case was big back in the day, but that was the company that went under. Our family’s wealth stayed intact since my mother so closely guarded it… I have no idea how much is hidden. But I’m guessing millions.”
“Iron Clad,” Edward said, his eyebrows rising. “So your mother was Nellie Bly, then?”
“That’s her.”
“What the hell are you doing out here in Pennsylvania?”
“Her family lives here. They raised me on her behalf – she was a working woman, busy between the reporter gig and the industry work. And my father was quite a bit older than her, so she didn’t want the attention. My aunt Mary Ann brought me up in a house my mother had built. I’ve always suspected the cash was somewhere on the property.”
Eddy propped against the bar, studying the man before him with a greedy gaze. Here was wealth he’d never even known, dangled before him tantalizingly. “So… How are you proposing Clara helps you?”
“I’d like her to try hard to get through to my parents,” he proposed. “And if she can’t, I’ve heard of a way we might be able to amp up her natural ability. It’ll require a bit of a hike, though.”
“What’s your name, chap?”
“Harry.”
“Harry,” Edward said, extending his hand. “I believe you’ve got a deal – but ten percent for me and ten percent for Clara, assuming we help you find it.”
Harold smiled and extended a hand.
***
“So just a couple more days, then we’ll move toward Pittsburgh,” announced Walter, the organizer of the carnival. Like many of the carnies, he’d grown up with their tiny circus. Now in his fifties, he was starting to look tired. When Clara was a child, she remembered him being so energetic. Now, his hair was barely blonde anymore. It was tending toward white.
She shoveled the last of her cornbread in her mouth and glanced at Alice, the dwarf, and Helen, the tattooed woman – the only other females she’d known the company of in the carnival. While Helen was chewing on a stray piece of skin by her nail, Alice rolled her brown eyes.
“Pittsburgh, great. You know what that means… Cleveland is next. Ever since the Cleveland Spiritualist Convention back in the day, crazies have flocked to the area.”
“I don’t mind it,” Clara said. “More people to sell to. A sale’s a sale.”
“And at least we’ll be able to razz ’em,” Alice added. “This area has been so boring with all these hoity-toity Philadelphians. Nothing but rich saps who come to stare at the freak show and then go back to their champagne toasts.”
As if Alice’s words had summoned the very archetype she’d just described, a figure emerged from the mist. A flat-topped fedora adorned his head, a perfectly pressed linen jacket cut a trim silhouette, and drainpipe-style pants completed the look. His eyes locked on Clara.
“Oh my,” Alice breathed. “Isn’t he just hotsy-totsty?”
When Eddy manifested at Harry’s side – complete with a white shirt, suspenders, and comically wide trouser legs – Clara felt her lips tighten into a scowl.
“Who’s that?” asked Helen as she leaned close to the medium. “He’s got it.”
“He’s the latest sap I scammed,” Clara whispered as the men came to hover behind their table. Helen smirked at her, but Alice’s eyes lit up as she rotated her petite legs over the bench and turned to face the newcomers.
“Hello,” she said, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Alice.”
“Charmed,” Harry said, shaking her hand. “Harold Seaman.”
His eyes swam to Clara expectantly, but she had her gaze locked on her brother as she awaited explanation. Eddy jammed his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock.
“Lari, listen… My friend Harry here has a proposition for us, if you’ll hear him out.”
Clara tightened her jaw. Her natural instinct was to lash out, but she also remembered how it felt to run her fingertips over the crisp five dollar bill he’d left for a single reading.
“Listen, Clara,” Harry said, his voice soft and guarded. “Eddy and I were talking, and we know a way to amplify your gift. And if you’re interested, there’s a pretty big cut for you.”
Her eyebrows rose, but before she could respond, Walter wandered up and ran his eyes over Harry.
“What’s this about?” he asked. “Respectfully, sir, the public isn’t welcome back here. Employees only.”
“He’s got a proposition for me, apparently,” Clara said.
Walter’s eyebrows rose this time, and he turned to Harry curiously. He crossed his arms as he awaited elaboration.
“Missing money,” he said bluntly. “The Iron Clad fortune. I believe my parents hid it somewhere, but I can’t get through to them. Clara here surprised me yesterday, because she’s the first medium who seems to be able to get in touch with them, if you know what I mean. If she’ll come with me, I can help her amplify that ability so we can confidently communicate with them. And it comes with a cut of the profits.”
Walter’s face reddened with fury, but he took a deep breath and motioned with his hands to push the rage down. “She cannot go with you, sir. She’s one of my top money makers.”
“Maybe we cut you in, then?” Harry suggested. “Five percent of a million is still a hefty payday. You’d just have to lend her and Eddy to me for a few days, maybe keep the circus here a bit longer so they don’t have to travel so far to catch up.”
“A million?” Walter asked, his lips peeling back into a grin that nearly split his face. “Why didn’t you say so, boy? Of course I’ll let you borrow the twins! Where are you taking them, if I may ask?”
Harry exchanged a look with Edward that sent chills down Clara’s back. It was guarded, like the pair was weighing the worth of sharing a dark secret. When Harry met Walter’s gaze again, she found herself bracing so tightly that tension rose in her shoulders.
“The Seven Gates of Hell,” Harry stated. “They’re here in Pennsylvania, out in York County. Clara, here’s the thing… It used to be an asylum, and many of the people they institutionalized were simply people like you. Who can hear the other side, but they heard it stronger. Those people, they’re still there. We don’t have to go beyond Gate Five to get through to them and ask how to amplify your gift, from what I’ve heard.”
Clara stared at him with wide green eyes for a moment before she burst into laughter. It was so unexpected that Alice jumped on the bench beside her.
Harry knelt before her, his face grimly serious as he reached out to tilt her chin toward him. “Clara. You can be a skeptic. That’s fine. But please humor me.”
“A lot of money is on the line here, Lari,” Edward said anxiously.
She met her brother’s serious gaze before she brushed Harry’s hand away and lifted her chin. “I’ve got nothing to lose. And as of right now, nothing to gain, either.”
“Atta girl!” Edward cheered.
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion before he asked, “What do you want?”
“A week’s salary guaranteed, regardless of if we find this purported treasure, plus room and board. For both my brother and I.”
“And Walter,” Walter added. When the siblings glared at him, he shrugged. “Sorry, you two. But I can’t let my golden geese wander off without their farmer.”
“How much is a week’s salary?”
“About twenty-five dollars or so,” Clara admitted as Edward said, “At least one hundred.”
“Twenty-five each,” Harry said, nodding. “Plus room and board. I can do that. Half upfront, half when we get to the Gates.”
Clara stood and patted his shoulder. “It’s a deal. When shall we leave?”
“This afternoon,” Harry proposed. “I’d like to handle the drive while it’s still daylight, then head to the Gates after dark. We’ll have to do a session out there, so if you don’t mind packing your supplies…”
“I’ve got it,” Clara said, already walking away. As she headed off, she heard Alice enthusiastically chime in, expressing belief in the quest to balance out her skepticism. Walter rambled to Edward, and their dreams of wealth floated after her as she headed back to her carriage to pack for a trip she very much didn’t believe in.
***
The straight-cut black dress was so much more comfortable than her showy spiritualist costumes. With its asymmetrical skirt hanging just below her knees and her hair pulled back, she felt rather prim and proper. However, she also felt underdressed the moment a shiny sapphire Ford Model A pulled into the dirt lot.
Fidgeting with the edge of a batwing sleeve where it met her wrist, she elbowed her brother. “Looks like you were wrong about the breezer, Eddy. He’s a sedan man.”
“Surprisingly sensible,” Edward agreed as he struck a match and lit his cigarette. After shaking it out, he propped an elbow against his sister’s shoulder and took a puff.
“Sensible for a drunk,” she muttered.
“Drunk?”
“You befriended him at a speakeasy. Really, Eddy, the company you keep astounds me.”
When Harry stepped out of the car, his eyes immediately locked on Clara. Nearly awe-struck, he slowly made his way to the twins.
“Clara,” he said, his eyes wide with what she initially thought was admiration. “I… You… Wow. You look… different.”
His tone wasn’t one of admiration. If anything, it sounded closer to disgust. As Clara huffed and snatched up her suitcase, Edward exhaled and quipped, “Oh, boy, you’ve done it now.”
“I have?” he asked before dropping an expletive. Jogging, he caught up to the medium and managed to cut her off. “Sorry, Claire. That came out really wrong. I just haven’t seen you without the makeup and mystic costume.”
“Excuse me for being a human being outside of work. And it’s ‘Clara.'”
Smirking, he reached out to take her suitcase. To Clara’s own surprise, she released it as he said, “It wasn’t an insult. If anything, I’ll double down on saying that you look like you stepped out of a magazine. Do you ever wear your hair down? Not often you see fashionable ladies who wear it long nowadays.”
Her jaw hung slightly agape as Edward jeered behind her, but another voice tore her out of her near-trance.
“You better be taking my bags next, boy.”
Walter. Of course. She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I wish I could say I’m surprised that he showed.”
Harry shot her a grin, then slid his eyes past her. “Sorry, Walter. I don’t recall that in Miss Waterson’s terms of service. I assume you boys can show yourselves to the rumble seat.”
“Rumble seat?” Edward demanded. “You mean a goddamn struggle buggy? Lari and I will hardly fit back there.”
Tightening his shoulders, Harry turned to face him. “It’s only polite to offer the lady the interior passenger seat. You and Walter will share the rumble seat.”
While the men protested, Clara muttered, “Walter is letting us have a few days off for this excursion.”
“Don’t make me sit in a coupe with the smelly carnie for eighty-two miles,” Harry whispered back.
Pursing her lips to suppress a giggle, she loudly declared, “It’s only polite to accept. After all, I’m wearing a skirt and it’ll be windy. I can’t hold it down for eighty-two long miles.”
While Walter grumbled about how scandalous modern skirt lengths were and Edward despaired over the long distance, Clara exchanged a look with Harry and headed for the car. The men caught up and examined it as Harry politely opened the door for the only lady in the group.
Walter whistled when he came to stand near the windshield. “How much did this hayburner cost? A year’s salary? I didn’t think this model was in production yet.”
“It’s not,” Harry said as he passed Clara her suitcase and closed the door. He gestured to the backseat before he made his way to the driver’s side.
When the door shut behind him, he exhaled the tension in his shoulders. “He gives me the jeebies. I don’t know how you two do it.”
“Polite to a tee. I would have said it to his face. You’re the Real McCoy, aren’t you?”
One brown eyebrow rose before humor crept across his features again. “We both are, Clara. Are you ready to open up your mind at the Gates of Hell?”
“At? I’m already there, aren’t I? Under the same roof as the likes of you once again.”
“I guess I should have packed a fire extinguisher, I have been told my devilish charms are fiery.”
As they exchanged a smile, Edward pounded on the back of the coupe. “Hey, there’s no leg room! And you left your damn suitcase back here, Harry.”
His smile widened as he started the car. With that, their slow trek across the uneven brick roads of Greater Philadelphia began.