“Is this when she was chased?” Ben placed the painting back on the table and leaned against it wearily. “And you two don’t think that’s odd? She happens upon a painting that no one else has seen, then she goes missing? Where is Le Cirque de Fragonard?”

“Near Marais.”

Ben grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.” The espresso had jolted him awake, but his eyes were burning and he longed for a bed. That would have to wait, though.

“Here,” said Gaston, handing him a thick pile of handwritten notes. “We found this on Lara’s bed in the hotel.”

“What is it?”

“She translated the third journal. You might want to read the translation from all three journals before you say that you don’t believe any of this. She did.”

Chapter 24: The Journal of Cecile Cabot—Book Three

The Journal of Cecile Cabot—Book Three

June 9, 1925

While it was my suggestion, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw them together. He was smiling, and it felt like a small betrayal. But what was I expecting? That he’d dread spending time with my sister? Surely I wasn’t that naive.

As I walked to the trapeze, a sly smile crossed Esmé’s lips. For the painting she was posed dressed in a black-and-gold-striped jacket with a short front and long tails, gold shorts, and stockings with a light netting. To indicate the pattern of her stockings, Émile sketched a crosshatch pattern over her thighs. Despite trying not to watch them, I felt the attention to my sister’s stockings had dragged on quite long.

Grabbing the Spanish Web, I began to climb but thought better of it and came back down. I’d perfected the corkscrew move to where I could float in midair for several minutes. It all began innocently enough. Fatigued after practice, I didn’t want to climb the ladder again. Standing at its foot, I closed my eyes and wondered what it would be like to move through the air, landing at the top. It was effortless, really, the lifting. My body felt light, as though it had longed to take flight.

Now I can take to the air at will—the ladder and rope are quite unnecessary. Yet for my audience, props are required. To simply soar to the top would have felt like I was performing some cheap magic trick with mirrors. Instead I lured them into an act they recognized and then slowly I pulled the rug out from under them, challenging everything they thought they knew about circus acts. I loved the sound of the gasps in the audience when I shed the ropes and bars and it was just me and the air. Those moments have provided me with the greatest sense of peace I have ever known, like a mermaid returning to water.