by Rachel James
“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.
And then t
he 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 vision to clear through the misty w
hite. 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?
