Lara gasped. The Devil’s mouth. It was just as Cecile and Barrow had described. Looking back toward Rue Vivienne, she thought she saw the outline of a woman standing under the dead streetlamp, waiting. She stared in that direction, letting the woman know she wasn’t backing down. Straining her eyes in the dark, Lara couldn’t make out if this was the same woman from the Père Lachaise.

There was a steady hum, as if a fluorescent light had just been turned on after a lengthy recess. Four sets of pillars led the way to a door, gaslights illuminating the path. Like a picture coming into focus, the circus with its MATINEE sign became clear. Lara looked down at her ticket. If she threw the ticket down now and ran, would this scene disappear? Tempting though it was to flee, she stared out at the figure of the woman standing in the shadows. If she didn’t go through the doors to Le Cirque Secret, then she had to face whoever was out there, knowing it was the woman. No, it was safer to be inside this circus.

Blinking, she took in the scene in front of her. An entire circus had just materialized in front of her eyes, supplanting a Parisian landmark. Lara looked around. The waiter at the nearby café continued to stack chairs as though the entire square had not transformed in front of him. Without a ticket, perhaps it hadn’t.

“For goodness’ sake, get in or get out.”

Lara looked around the pillars to find a clown holding a miniature version of himself—a ventriloquist dummy. Doro. From Cecile’s journal, Lara felt like she already knew him.

“Yes, you.” The clowns were dressed identically—all in white, from the face paint to the fez hat to the costume.

Above her, a horse whinnied. Was the statue alive as well?

Amazed, she spun around, not unlike Dorothy who had just entered Oz.

“Ms. Barnes.” The dummy’s hand pointed to the door. “This way, s’il vous plaît.” As the clown walked, the dummy peered around him. “I am Doro. Or, he is.” The little wooden hand pointed up to the clown, who held out his hand to claim her ticket.

She was reluctant to give it up.

“The ticket does not belong to you,” snapped the dummy.