Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Adrian nodded, pleased by her astuteness, and then he saw one of her smiles emerge.

  “Why do they collide, Adrian? What is the purpose behind it? I don’t think I’m spiritual enough to grasp it.”

  “Of course you are. You sing about it every night in the third act of our show.”

  She wrinkled her nose and Adrian soon saw her flash of understanding.

  “Kismet, do you mean? Destinies tied to each other?”

  Adrian nodded, wiping the figure eight from the glass pane and then drying his fingers along his pants leg. Ginger still wore a troubled frown. Lifting her chin, he mocked her fear with a grin.

  “What now, O’Toole? There’s nothing to be scared of. You are perfectly safe. I’m here to chase away any pesky ghosts hiding in your bedroom closet.”

  He heard her shaky laugh.

  “Who’s gonna chase away the ones hiding in your closet?”

  Adrian started to laugh then felt his heartbeat lurch as once again outside the window, lightning ripped across the blackness. Ginger’s fingers sought his for comfort and he clutched them firmly.

  At the touch, a brief image of a lace-frosted white silk peignoir, shimmering with tiny pearls, floated across his mind. The image faded quickly, leaving Adrian no time to ponder its meaning. Instead, he attempted to make his body shut down the strange excitement mounting within him by gathering Ginger closer to him, clinging to her familiar curves the way a drowning man clings to a solitary lifeline. Above their heads, the ceiling lights dipped and quickly resurged. Ginger attempted to hide a feeble shiver.

  “There’ll be no dress rehearsal if this keeps up,” she remarked.

  “Nonsense, O’Toole. Where’s your sense of tradition? Don’t you know the show must go on? We’ll perform by candlelight if we have to.”

  “Not me.”

  Adrian smiled at the denial, knowing she had no intention of reneging on the performance. She was a trooper, a showbiz junkie. No one had ever been able to keep her from not performing.

  Settling her more comfortably in the crook of his arm, they both were content to watch the snow flurries assaulting the windowpane for a few moments. However, Ginger soon began fidgeting.

  “Settle down, O’Toole,” he scoffed, “Have I ever locked you in a box and left your there?”

  “No, but there’s always a first time. You’re not yourself tonight. You’re distracted.” She lifted his fingers and caressed his injured thumb pad thoughtfully. “Your hands tell all your secrets, Adrian. I bet you didn’t know I knew that. Your face never gives anything away, but your hands? They tell volumes. Tonight, I watched them shake, and I don’t believe it was from the glass embedded in your thumb. You were afraid.” Adrian’s breath caught at her words, though she didn’t seem to notice as she continued stroking his right palm, giving a tiny sigh. When she spoke, Adrian heard the resignation in her voice.

  “I always knew this day would come, Adrian.”

  Adrian clenched his arms tighter around her waist.

  “What? Consorting with psychics? Or having to nursemaid my injured thumb?” She broke his embrace, and Adrian let her go, watching as she tucked herself into the corner of the window seat and stared morosely at the darkness outside the window.

  “Be serious, Adrian. I’m talking about us. We’re over.”

  “What! Because of a stupid broken glass? I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, O’Toole.”

  “I am. But suddenly, my hair color is all wrong.”

  Adrian held his breath for a second. Talk about slicing right to the heart of things. No appetizers here, just right to the main course.

  “Get to the point, O’Toole. I gather you’re referring to Miss Kelly’s red hair?” he chided outwardly.

  “You were mean and ugly to her on purpose, Adrian.”

  Adrian shifted his legs, flexing the kinks out of his knees and pretending as much indifference as he could muster.

  “I’m mean and ugly to everyone, you know that.”

  “Yes, and you never spare a thought to the havoc you create. You couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings in the matter. But you did care tonight. You shredded Janice’s self-esteem in front of us all and on purpose. You wanted her to despise you. Why?”

  “Surely I wasn’t as bad as all that?” Adrian parried. He knew he had gone out of his way to goad Janice into disliking him. But what else could he do? She had stirred up old longings he had spent more than twenty years burying.

  The window seat creaked and Adrian found himself impaled by Ginger’s piercing gaze. For someone not possessed of second sight, her stare was remarkably penetrating.

  “You saw something when the glass shattered, Adrian. What was it?”

  He hedged with a shrug.

  “An image.”

  “Of you and Janice?”

  “No!” The syllable exploded from Adrian’s lips, startling both of them with its vehemence. He felt himself flush at once and cautioned, “Dammit, Ginger, let it lie! I don’t know what I saw. I had only a grasp of the image for a moment. The woman could have been anyone.”

  Ginger’s face split into a wide smile and Adrian growled at his own stupidity. She had tricked him into admitting that to her. Her laugh echoed around the solarium wall and through his head. He studied her grinning features, and gave a second thunderous growl.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ve never seen you naked before, Adrian. It’s a truly amazing sight.”

  She had cleverly manipulated him on all fronts. She had sensed, without being told, that the image he saw was an erotic one. She wanted nothing less than the truth from him and she had gotten it.

  Angry with himself for not seeing the guise, Adrian could only stare pointedly out the window. He wished he could see a ripple of lightning crack the night skies apart in the way he had just been cracked apart. He waited but no flash came. Beyond the window, darkness reigned supreme. But for how long?

  Outside, a snow-chilled wind had sprung up and was gathering force. Somewhere nearby, he could hear a tree branch slashing against wood. Above them, the ceiling lights continued to flicker and dip and Ginger stirred. When she started to speak, Adrian lifted his hand.

  “Shut up, O’Toole. We’re not canceling the dress rehearsal.”

  “I know,” she stated, settling back with a sigh. She stroked the back of his right palm affectionately. “I don’t mind if it’s over between us, Adrian, really. I like Janice and you two look good together.”

  “Shut up, O’Toole. Curtain in fifteen minutes.”

  Chapter 9

  FRIDAY — 9:30 PM

  Janice uttered a cry of delight as she peered through the solarium doors to find the room totally transformed into a stage setting of a Victorian drawing room. Good Lord, how had Adrian managed to create all this in just an hour? Her glance slid right. She supposed the room wasn’t as real as it looked since magicians used the real as illusionary tools to fool their audience. If that were true, Adrian had certainly outdone himself. The set was impressive and she found the room’s transformation so delightful, she was almost willing to forgive and forget his earlier rudeness. He couldn’t be all bad if he could create such delicate beauty as this.

  Hoping she had time to give the stage setting a closer inspection before the others arrived, Janice crossed the room and climbed the proscenium stage ramp. Once on stage, she perched on the arm of the sofa, surveying the rest of the set pieces. For illusionary tools, they were remarkably accurate. There was even a stuffed bird in a golden cage and Janice felt sure Adrian would bring the bird to life sometime during the performance. Her gaze skimmed the decorated boxes on the floor. They stood empty now, but no doubt Ginger would disappear and reappear within them throughout the performance. Janice closed her eyes for a moment. To be whis
ked away, only to reappear seconds later elsewhere. Mmmmm, she could almost imagine the joy of such a time slip.

  With a contented sigh, Janice hiked her knees over the arm of the sofa and dropped her bottom into the belly of the cushions to continue viewing the set. To her left stood a fantasy bedroom, decorated with lace, ribbons, and roses. The main occupant, a four-poster brass bed, was straight out of an erotic novel and Janice’s pulse quickened at the thought of two bodies making heated love beneath the silken sheets. Dispatch that disturbing image to the back of your mind, Janice, and make it stay there.

  Obeying the command, her gaze swung to the mini-fireplace and the oil painting housed above it. The vitality of the young woman in the portrait struck her at once. So who was the woman and what did she mean to Adrian? Janice let her imagination run wild. She was a long ago lover. No, that was too simple. She was the woman Adrian wanted but couldn’t have. Yes, she liked that idea. Adrian brought to his knees by a beauty who had twisted him around her little finger and then callously dumped him. No wonder he hated women.

  “What a perfectly adorable set.” Janice jumped at the sound of the lilting tones and then hid a smile as Muriel dropped onto the cushions alongside her. “One can well imagine the grandeur of being part of Queen Elizabeth’s royal court,” she stated with a sigh.

  “Or a love-sick debutante, courted by impetuous dandies,” Janice added.

  “Exactly, my dear. We seem to be on the same wavelength again.” They shared another smile, and then Muriel was studying the room on her own, her eyes, too, finally coming to rest on the oil painting above the fireplace. Janice sensed Muriel was as moved by the portrait as she.

  “I would never have suspected that beneath Adrian’s cranky exterior there lurked a sensitive, romantic side,” Muriel commented. “His jaded wit is so overwhelming, it quite takes your breath away. I think I have done him a grave injustice.”

  “Do you believe the concept of the set is his?”

  “I do. Don’t you?”

  Janice gave a quick nod, realizing she did. Furthermore, as much as she hated to admit it, Adrian seemed to be loaded with artistic talent. Blast the rotten swine! Why did he have to have an eye for arranging beautiful things in a most sensual, romantic way?

  “Never judge a book by its cover,” she quoted softly. “We all could learn from that lesson, don’t you agree?”

  When no response came to her question, Janice swung about, expecting to find Muriel’s attention still riveted on the oil painting. Instead, she found her studying the entranceway, her lips tilted in delight. Janice followed her gaze to the door, and spying the star-spangled figure poised there, murmured a breathless “wow.”

  Arms resting on the doorframe, Ginger stood in a dramatic pose, smiling at them provocatively. To say that she looked sensational was an understatement, Janice realized. She was quite literally a page out of a Victorian novel, and her gown, if it could be called a gown, sparkled and shimmered under the tray of overhead lights. As she walked toward them, the dress showcased her tiny waist and ample breasts. With a pang of envy, Janice tugged uncomfortably at her oversized, baggy sweater.

  Reaching the sofa, Ginger made a small pirouette before them.

  “Is this a sensational costume or what!?”

  “You look absolutely ravishing,” Muriel complimented.

  Ginger attempted a small curtsey in thanks, but ended the bow with a quick clutch to her bosom. She gave a bright laugh to cover her embarrassment.

  “As you can tell, I’m an overendowed substitute for Adrian’s sexy stage sirens. They rarely stay clothed long enough to worry about popping out of their costumes.”

  “Can we look forward to some Vegas nudity, Ginger?” Janice teased lightly.

  “God, no. This performance is strictly PG-rated.”

  “What can we expect?” Muriel asked quickly. “I must confess I’ve never seen a magician at work before.”

  “We’ll be doing three of Adrian’s most popular illusions. He thought since Carrington House has such a rich historical background, he’d set the scenes Victorian style.”

  “Is it his concept and design?”

  “Every bit.”

  “It’s magnificent.”

  Janice saw Ginger’s lips curve upward.

  “Trust me, it’s not nearly as magnificent as Adrian under the spotlight. His first illusion will astound you. It’s called the Vanishing Lady and I do mean vanishing. It segues immediately into the Artist’s Dream, my personal favorite.” She pointed directly at the oil painting nearby. “How Adrian accomplishes the illusion still baffles me every time I perform it with him.”

  Janice’s gaze followed her pointing finger.

  “Who is the girl in the painting, Ginger?”

  Ginger’s look at the painting was brief.

  “Sylvia Parker. Adrian’s number one assistant. Beautiful, no?”

  “Beautiful, yes,” Janice replied, emphatically.

  “Well, I better find Adrian,” Ginger said. “He always has last minute instructions before a performance.”

  Muriel’s hand arced through the air.

  “No need to go far — there he is now. And he looks as breathtaking as you do.”

  Janice’s head whipped around, eager for a glimpse of Adrian in costume.

  Muriel was right. He was breathtaking in his frills and satin, and like Ginger, he was a page out of a Victorian novel. Only he resembled no impetuous dandy. In his skintight breeches — and they were skin tight — he was every Victorian mother’s nightmare. A man who radiated a vitality that drew women to him like magnets.

  Deep in conversation with Lloyd and Jasper, he didn’t seem to notice the hot looks in his direction. Janice wondered if he knew the effect he created wearing those breeches. Lord, he had to, she decided. There was a maddening air of arrogance that lived about him. Out of nowhere, she sensed he liked turning women on, perhaps even counted on his ability to do it. Disturbed by where her thoughts were heading, Janice realized forming an attraction for Adrian Magus would be fatal for a woman, a complete loss of her peace of mind.

  He seemed in no hurry to join them, even seemed to ignore them. And then in the next second, his gaze was riveted on Janice’s face. He gave a slight bow in greeting and Janice wondered why she should feel so strangely flattered by that steady gaze. And then he was all business again, whistling for Ginger who hurried to his side and was catapulted out the door. In seconds, Jasper was jumping the stage ramp and skidding to a halt in front of them.

  “We’re minutes away from the start, ladies,” he remarked. “Time to find our front row seats.”

  He held out his hand to Muriel, who slid forward and allowed him to pull her up. Janice popped up and swiftly traced her way down the sloped ramp to the back of the solarium where Lloyd was finishing the final chair arrangement. He held a seat out for her, nodding.

  “For you, mademoiselle.”

  Janice dropped down with a cheeky grin, settling herself in for a comfortable stay. She felt a shadow by her side almost immediately and looked up to find Jasper hovering close. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she responded by raising her eyebrow. He bent down to her ear level.

  “I have been dispatched by Adrian to take your compass, Janice.”

  “My compass!” Good Lord, how did Adrian know she carried a compass? She slid her hand into her slacks pocket and withdrew the oblong cylinder. “How did Adrian know?”

  “I told him. He needed some personal effects for his illusion. He took my pipe. He wants Muree’s wedding band. And since you brought no purse, he’ll take your compass.”

  Janice dropped the compass into the middle of his outstretched palm.

  “I’m not sure I like it that you can read minds so effectively, Jasper. It makes it hard to keep a secret from you.”


  He grinned affably, wrapping his palm around the compass, and then retrieving the ring Muriel held out to him.

  “Harmless hobby, really. I never intrude where I’m not wanted.”

  Janice laughed cheerfully, waving him away. Whirling, he sped out the door, but was back in seconds, pausing only long enough to switch the room lights off before slipping into his chair alongside Muriel.

  In less than two minutes, music cut through the dark, streaming about their heads and bouncing off the walls. Center stage, a spotlight snapped on and Adrian stepped out of the dark into the light.

  “Oh, my.”

  The words were out before Janice could stop them. Gorgeous, he really is absolutely gorgeous. His smile broke then, warm and spontaneous, and his gaze penetrated the darkness between them. Janice had the uncanny feeling that he had been able to read her thoughts just then. She stifled a shiver; however, in the next instant, the shiver fled, cut off by Bette Midler’s rich, velvety tones and Ginger’s sudden appearance from between the parted curtains. Adrian held out his arms and she stepped into his embrace, pressed her open lips to his and immediately vanished from his arms and their sight.

  In the same instant, Janice felt a sizzle along her temple, her mind suddenly colliding with another’s. In her mind’s eye, a vision erupted, drowning out the room around her and sending a faint buzzing along the rim of her eardrums. Caught off guard, she gripped the chair arms in preparation for the phantom pain she knew would soon begin skittering along her pulse point. She hated unexpected tap-ins. They were painfully unnerving. She tucked her chin into her chest but was a fraction of a second too late. A flood of light came, followed by the sudden clear vision of a frightened young girl cowering in a crawlspace.

  The woman’s lips moved, but no sound emerged — at least none Janice could hear through the din clogging her ears — yet she knew the girl was calling for mercy from someone who was stalking her beyond the crawlspace. The vision lasted no more than thirty seconds before it began to fade, yet Janice attempted to hold on to it, hoping for a chance to memorize the young girl’s face. It was a struggle; the more she tried to center her mind’s eye on the girl, the more someone or something pushed the image from her mind.