Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  And then the vision evaporated completely, leaving her dizzy and light-headed. The solarium room walls swam back into view and her gaze latched onto the drawing room set center stage and to reality. The buzzing in her ears ceased, and once again, Bette Midler’s dulcet tones filled her ears. On stage, Ginger rematerialized in Adrian’s arms and he lowered his mouth to hers. As their lips met, waves of nausea rocked Janice’s stomach and it took all of what was left of her flagging energy not to black out under the phantom jolt. And then, like thieves fleeing down a darkened alley, both Adrian and Ginger vanished from sight. Her nausea and pain fled with them, leaving her even more lightheaded. A second later, one perfect red rose appeared on the floor in their place. In her ears, Janice heard a last haunting refrain: “In the spring, becomes the rose.”

  Chapter 10

  FRIDAY — MINUTES LATER

  Janice held her breath, her whole body wedded to the music. As the last tender strains of guitar strings faded away, the spotlight on the rose dimmed and the rose vanished from sight. At first, there was no movement or sound and Janice felt immense relief. It was heaven to have her pulse quieting and returning to normal.

  Center stage, the birdcage began to twirl on the tabletop and though the tune was distinctly familiar, for the life of her Janice couldn’t remember its title. No matter, the sweet sound was like the tinkle of crystal bells and acted as a welcome tonic to her frayed nerves. And then the soft, breathless sound of Michael Crawford sprang from the speakers. With seductive entreaty, he identified himself as the Angel of Music and called out to his ladylove, Christine.

  In response to the musical plea, the drapes over the window casing began to slide back. The mood music changed from mysterious to romantic. Tremulous organ chords gave way to strings and percussion, and a single spotlight came up on the drapes highlighting the window frame. To Janice’s surprise, the draperies revealed not a window as expected, but a life-size picture frame with blank canvas.

  In sweet syncopation to the music, color began to seep through the pores of the canvas material and Janice gasped along with the others. Before their eyes, the blank canvas began to take shape and form, transforming itself into a life-size portrait of Adrian in all his Victorian splendor. And then the portrait came to life and Adrian stepped from it into the den.

  Janice caught her lower lip between her teeth in surprise. He was good. Damn good — just as her sister had raved.

  Mesmerized by his appearance, her eyes followed the seductive lift of his hands back toward the painting. A warm glow flowed through her as the painting transformed itself once again. Going blank, it rearranged colors, and to Janice’s delight, reformed into a portrait of Ginger seated upon a garden swing. And then the spangles on her spectacular gown took on life, shimmering profusely, and Ginger stepped from the swing into Adrian’s waiting embrace. They shared a brief kiss and the music swelled in perfect harmony.

  Janice heard a low, pleasurable sigh emanating deep within her own throat and swallowed hard to keep it from being heard. She kept her gaze glued to the clinging couple, leaning forward in her chair, awed by the fusion of music and movement. Never had she seen it so skillfully blended or so ably executed. That it had been designed to create an emotional impact on the five physical senses was clear, right down to the seductive, soft fragrance of jasmine permeating the air. She realized Adrian had meant to move the viewer with the romantic beauty of the piece, and she knew that no viewer would be immune. She was moved by the illusion, sensed by their reverent silence the others were, too.

  On stage, Ginger fled Adrian’s embrace, drew close to the portrait and vanished once more to still life. Adrian reacted instantly, raising his hand to the portrait hanging above the fireplace. With split-second timing, the two portraits traded places. Stunned by the quick change, Janice emitted another sigh of appreciation. She studied Adrian’s profile and saw his concentration was intense as he stared at the portraits. What was the secret? Where was the power? How was he able to maintain such a high level of energy, while being drained so physically and psychically?

  The answer suddenly struck her. His hands! The power emanated from his hands. They were beautiful under the lights, expressive, mesmerizing. His entire act and stage presence were built around them. The way he smiled at the audience, flicked his hands. The way he paused for effect, like now, teasing them into catching their breath, making as if he were losing his concentration and the illusion would be lost. It was an incredible stage ploy designed to pull the heart out of an audience and cement them to him. It worked simply because it was the perfect symbiosis of his mind, heart, and soul with theirs.

  Hearing the music swell, Janice returned her gaze to the portraits. They were shifting again, but now with an unexpected twist. Ginger’s portrait vanished, replaced by a portrait of a woman with flaming red hair. Janice recognized the painting at once, as did Lloyd beside her. He stirred in his chair with a gargled croak. Turning her head, she found him tossing on his glasses so he could inspect the window frame more closely. By the look on his face, it was clear that he had recognized the painting as an exact duplicate of Princess Lisette in the gallery across the hall. Janice saw his mouth form the word “how?” She didn’t know and the shake of her head told him so. He returned his glasses to his shirt pocket, stuffed them down and refocused his attention on the window frame. She did the same, though in her ear, she heard him mutter beneath his breath.

  “He’s too damn good.”

  Janice agreed completely, but before she could express the sentiment openly, the music peaked. The finale was in sight and she suspected its ending would be masterful and emotionally draining. She steeled herself for the onslaught and was surprised when a flicker of apprehension coursed through her. A quick, disturbing thought asserted itself like a neon sign in her mind. Danger. Watch out. Where had that thought come from? She must still be on edge from her earlier vision. She brushed at the goose bumps that pricked her skin and searched her mind. Nothing now. The thought had fluttered away as quickly as it had come.

  Leaning forward in her chair, eager to be drawn into the last fusion of music and movement, Janice listened carefully as the Phantom’s words beckoned, offered her to share one love, one lifetime. One love, one lifetime. The words began to echo over and over in her head and she couldn’t make them stop. She shook her head for relief and felt an unwelcome sense of inadequacy sweep over her, followed by a light throbbing along her temple. Not again! She willed the pain away with another shake of her head and focused her attention on the continuing illusion. She’d not give into another aggravating vision. One a day was plenty.

  The original painting reclaimed its home over the fireplace, Lisette’s portrait vanishing. Janice’s gaze flew to the windowpane, anticipating Ginger’s arrival. The canvas went blank, seeped bright colors but showed no distinct new pattern forming.

  Janice stole a peek at Adrian’s face and her heart skipped a beat. He was in trouble, his concentration unraveling. She wasn’t sure how she knew; his expression telegraphed no sign of distress. It was his hands, she realized. They were giving him away. They were struggling for — no against — something.

  Suddenly, she saw him break off in mid-concentration, grasp his temple and double over as if in pain. Simultaneously, she felt her own mind plunge into a vortex of white light. Grabbing the arms of her chair, she fought to anchor herself to reality. Heavens, she was slipping again. Only this time she was going to sink deeper than before. Her throbbing temple was visible proof of the danger. She heard muffled groans all around her and knew this time she was not alone. Each of them was sinking like a heavy stone to the bottom of a bright white sea.

  In sheer desperation, Janice forced her head to turn, her hand groping for Muriel’s for support. Or was it guidance? Icy fear snaked around her heart when her fingers collided with Muriel’s only to find them pried to the chair arms like steel bands. Janice forced her v
ision to clear through the misty white. Promptly, she was rewarded with the sight of Jasper, head in hand, fighting off his own set of pain. Muriel sat staring vacantly into space, her face deadly calm. She seemed to be in no pain, but her blank expression scared Janice more than if her body was besieged and wracked by uncontrollable shudders. Someone unknown was controlling her.

  Flashing images across the white light cut off Janice’s thoughts and she clutched her head in self-defense. Disjointed, garbled sounds began to assail her ears again and again. First came the knockings, rappings — distorted voices scrambling through her head. They all shouted for her to get out. Then she heard tortured cries, pleadings for mercy. Through the light, she caught sight of her earlier vision. Once again, a young girl in a cramped crawlspace reached out begging for mercy, her hands emphasizing her entreaty. Hands! Clawing hands! Adrian’s hands!

  Janice felt a cold touch on her arm and jumped sky-high. Her elbow jammed against cold steel and the pain was so intense it brought her out of her reverie and back into the solarium room. The gut-wrenching image dimmed, leaving Janice immobile, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage.

  “Jan-ice!” Lloyd’s cry was breathless as if spoken through gritted teeth.

  Janice turned her head, almost blacking out in the process. She clutched the chair arms again and braced herself. She must get a grip on reality, no matter the pain. Blinking rapidly, she forced her eyes to look at Lloyd, who was clearly struggling to control and center his own thoughts. With sheer force of will, he threw off the pain long enough to lift a finger and point center stage.

  Though it was a struggle, Janice swung her head around again and guessed she was searching for Adrian. Her rapid eye movement made her head spin and she willed it to stop. She had to find Adrian. Screams began to sizzle through her ears once more, sending waves of nausea to the pit of her stomach. She willed the screams and nausea to stop. Where was Adrian? She needed Adrian. Why did she need Adrian?

  Out of nowhere, the screams and pain died down, allowing her to fight past the blinding light and perceive him. He was struggling to his feet, balancing his head carefully atop his neck. Though he moved like a slug, Janice thought him lucky. He seemed to be the only one of them capable of moving inside the pain with any degree of success. She watched as he struggled to his knees, clutching the sofa for needed support. Semi-upright, he dragged his body sideways, away from the window frame. At the outer edge of the sofa, he went still and Janice wondered if he had blacked out. She couldn’t tell since his prone figure was backlit by the proscenium lights, which were fast becoming cloaked in a transparent blue haze. The jasmine scent was suddenly everywhere, causing Janice to wish she could cover her nose to keep from inhaling the noxious smell. God, would this nightmare never end? Her stomach was heaving enough already without the smell. As if on cue, her mind cleared to see a thin blue mist begin to seep slowly through the pores of the canvas frame.

  “Janice!” The groan was anxious and she turned to Adrian, grateful he had moved again, this time able to reach the opposite end of the sofa. “Janice!” The call was more urgent this time. Filled with her own desperation now that the blue mist was rising upward more quickly, she stammered hoarsely.

  “Here.”

  “Get behind me,” he ordered. When she didn’t move, an emphatic growl followed. “Get behind me!”

  Janice’s blood chilled at the command. Get behind him? What for? She tried to connect her mind to his but was thwarted. All she felt was emptiness, but the power of that emptiness propelled her from her seat. Bolting up the ramp, she scurried to the haven of Adrian’s side in less than fifteen seconds.

  He was on his feet now, more in control of his body and moving past the pain. He pulled Janice behind his back, sheltering her from the mist that now hung in wide strips in front of the painting. Janice peered over his shoulder at the shimmering shape transforming itself into a distinctly feminine form.

  “I don’t sense a threat, do you?” she whispered. Her fingers plucked at his shirt back for reassurance. The feel of his body heat seeping through the material steadied her as she awaited his reply.

  “She’s waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” he barked over his shoulder.

  “Well, don’t take it out on me!” Janice barked back.

  At their heated words, the shape before them surged upward, shimmering from blue to angry red. Janice’s heart dropped to her toes and she took a hasty step back. Adrian had the good sense to do the same. Had the mist sensed their anger? It must have. Why else would it continue to alternate from red to blue repeatedly as if soaking up their emotions?

  Eyes glued to the mist, they watched and waited for a sign. When none came, Adrian called out loudly to the others.

  “Can you move, Lloyd?”

  His reply was swift.

  “Think so.”

  “Get over here.”

  Seconds later, Janice felt her right shoulder shaded by a second barrier.

  “Jasper?”

  “Blinding headache, I’m afraid. Vision’s gone. No help to you.”

  “Muriel,” Janice called out, casting a half-glance his way. “She’s out.”

  At her words, he reached out and groped for Muriel’s pulse point. Locating it, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

  “Can’t see her face clearly, my vision’s fogged, but her pulse is strong. She’s unhurt.”

  “You better move away from her, Jasper,” Adrian cautioned as the mist began to drift down and away from the painting. “Our lady friend is about to make herself known to us, I think.”

  Janice heard the scrape of Jasper’s chair and knew he had followed Adrian’s warning. It was a good warning, Janice surmised as she peered between the men’s shoulders and saw the mist had finished its transformation. Before them now floated a curvaceous, womanly shape.

  “For three centuries, I have been empty.”

  The voice was so startling clear that for a moment Janice thought it had come from the mist itself. But when Adrian and Lloyd swung their heads to the right, Janice realized she had erred. Muriel had spoken, or at least a melodious voice similar to Muriel’s had spoken. It spoke again, repeating itself.

  “For three centuries, I have been empty.”

  The spirit paused, obviously expecting a return reply. When none came, the spirit tried again.

  “I cannot harm you. I am spirit, lost and empty. I seek release, only release, nothing more. I seek to speak to the woman. Will she speak to me?”

  Adrian made a protective gesture as if to deny the spirit, but Janice thwarted him by slipping between the men’s shoulders. She felt Adrian’s fingers tug at her sweater back and was cheered by the support.

  “I will speak with you. My name is Janice.”

  “For three centuries I have been empty, Janice.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand the meaning of your words. Will you tell me what they mean?”

  “Across time, I have come to show you their meaning.”

  “Show?”

  “Through you and the man.”

  “Man?”

  “The one who stands behind. The one who pretends to dislike you so.”

  Adrian’s fingers twitched on her waist and Janice found herself liking the misty cloud. It didn’t beat around the bush. The spirit seemed to sense her acceptance.

  “In the spirit world, all has purpose. Believe you this?”

  Janice sobered, nodding her head.

  “I believe it.”

  “Then believe my single words. Another has interfered with my destiny. Altered its purpose. For that, I am imprisoned in emptiness.”

  “In a crawlspace?” Janice asked, suddenly understanding her earlier vision.

  “You have said it.”
<
br />   “You seek the crawlspace?”

  “Non, I seek not it. It is matter, nothing more. Rien plus.”

  “I don’t know what you seek then.”

  “Aubert. Until I am one with Aubert, there is only emptiness. That is my destiny. Do you understand this?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  The spirit drifted closer then, causing Janice to take a hasty step back. Adrian’s hand slipped around her waist to keep her from treading on his toes.

  “Does the man who transforms matter understand my words?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Adrian replied.

  “Then believe you this. Until I am one with Aubert, this house shall serve as prison, as my soul is imprisoned.” The spirit waved her hand, and all around them, Janice heard the sound of sizzling fire. Outside the solarium windows, the night sky exploded with a fiery, red glow.

  “What the hell? … ”

  Lloyd’s curse was cut off as Adrian slammed his elbow hard against Lloyd’s ribcage. The spirit waivered, and in the distant regions of the house below and above, there was the rending sound of bolts soldered into place.

  The spirit moved then, floating upward, startling them all with her agility. Janice took a half-turn back, colliding again with Adrian. She clutched his shirt collar for support, wondering briefly how much more abuse his toes could take. If she got any closer to him, they’d be breathing out of the same pair of lungs. Cautiously, she watched the mist drift its way back to the window frame and begin to dissipate into the canvas pores.

  “Lisette?” Janice called out uneasily.

  The mist paused in its evaporation. Through Muriel, it spoke again, its tone sad and wistful.

  “That which was Lisette is non plus. Her body is lost, now remains only her spirit. Soon, without release, even that will be lost.”