Althacazur looked down at the adoring monkey. “I know. Mr. Tisdale here was once quite famous himself.” The monkey gazed down at his foot modestly. As if performing a Shakespeare aside, Althacazur leaned in, placing his boot on the ledge again directly in front of her, and whispered loudly, “He might have led a country in his previous life.” He turned to the monkey, who cast his eyes down toward the ground. “Is that fair to say? Well, he doesn’t like to talk about it too much, but let’s say he ruled a country some years back that’s famous for its gelato. Am I right, Tis?”

The monkey looked ashamed, embarrassed at having his identity revealed in this current form.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s been a great manager of the circus. He gets a little nostalgic for his old being, but, well… that isn’t to be anymore, is it, Tis?”

The defeated monkey shook his head. Lara was mortified to think that if the clues were correct, the monkey standing in front of her was once… Benito Mussolini?

As if he could read her mind, the poor creature looked up at her, squeaked, and sulked off, his head hanging.

“Oh, Miss Barnes. A little rule. Please don’t say or think the actual names of my creatures in their previous lives. It reminds them of who they once were. You can hint at it, but never say it. Tisdale, Tisdale, come back… she didn’t mean it.”

Althacazur turned to her. “You must understand… everyone in my collection was once a famous performer of some type or another… opera singers… rock stars… politicians. Ah… politicians are the best, by far. Such egomaniacs. I adore them!” He gave a jaunty jerk of his head in Tisdale’s direction. “They’ve all, well, ended up…” He pointed toward the floor. “Down there, as you all like to call it. But I said, ‘Fuck no, we’re going to get a troupe together and allow these poor damned souls to perform again.’ So here we are for one night only—Le Cirque Secret.” He pointed to her. His delivery was over the top, like a vaudeville performer.

The doors opened and hordes of performers emerged—clowns, trapeze artists, bearded ladies carrying house cats in cages, followed by horses and elephants.

Althacazur took the house cats from the bearded lady. He opened the door, and the cats jumped out. “Make sure Tisdale is out of sight.” He turned to Lara. “They try to eat him when they change.”

Lara was confused until Althacazur snapped his fingers and the tabby and the black house cat morphed into a lion complete with a full mane and a black panther, respectively. Lara remembered the passage in Cecile’s diary. “Hercules and Dante.”