Mystical Love (25 page)

Jasper removed Lloyd's iron grip from his arm.

“Stay out of this. I know what I'm doing.” Jasper faced the spirit again. “You will release the woman you hold or we will not help you,” he stated calmly.

At his decree, a resounding mewl spewed from Muriel's lips, and to Jasper's horror, Muriel's body was yanked to its feet. From the very air above, a circle of lights began to cascade down. An icy blast of wind followed, hitting the pair full force. They fell back at the assault, and then thinking better of it, both men planted their feet firmly on the carpet and stood their ground.

Behind them, as if propelled by an explosive force, the hallway door tore from its hinges and slammed to the floor with a walloping thud. The sound animated the whirling cyclone of lights. In a flash, it had propelled Muriel by them and through the door, leaving the air above the men's heads filled with deafening cracks of thunder.

The pair leaped through the door, in full pursuit of the cyclone. Through the corridor, down the staircase, the cyclone kept the lead. Jasper and Lloyd stayed close on its heels and before Jasper knew it, they had descended two floors and were entering the second level portrait gallery. The circle of lights sped to the south end of the room, subsiding its mewling as it stopped before the portrait of Lisette.

The men followed at a more leisurely gait, cautious of drawing too close to the spirit in its present whirlwind. And then the swirling lights turned opaque and offered Muriel's plump form to their view again. Simultaneously, the cloud shifted to the left side of the portrait and boasted arrogantly.

“I would hear from your lips the name of the woman in the portrait. If you can tell me, I will release the woman I hold.”

“It's a portrait of Lisette,” Lloyd whispered swiftly.

The cloud spoke again, this time its tone held a rasp of excitement.

“Be careful of the name you call out. It is possible to see what is not there. Your eyes may deceive your mind.”

“It's full of shit,” Lloyd said strongly.

Jasper studied the portrait before them. No, not this time. The spirit was in deadly earnest. He strode forward and examined the portrait more closely. The woman etched in oil was a vivid beauty with crackling red hair. For a moment, he could see how Janice could be mistaken for her. Their hair colors were exact. But there he thought the similarity ended. The woman in the portrait had a wild quality about her whereas he knew firsthand Janice's nature was compellingly serene. Was the portrait of Lisette? He didn't know. If only he could pierce the canvas. Sense the model.

“Arretez! Stop! I forbid it!” The command was like a thunderous cannon echoing on the battlefield, and at first, Jasper thought the spirit hurled it at him. And then he saw it. The portrait before them began changing, the colors seeping and bleeding into each other. “Stop!” The cry came again and this time, Jasper was physically thrown aside, out of the cloud's path. It swirled before the canvas, ordering loudly. “You will stop! I demand it!”

Righting himself with Lloyd's help, Jasper kept his eyes glued to the portrait. The colors were dissipating through the pores of the canvas faster, replaced by a new set of colors saturating the fabric from the reverse side.

“Non, you will not have him!” The voice raised an octave and then faded to a hushed stillness. Soon, a keening wail emerged from the center of the cloud. The wail was so tormented Jasper could almost feel the spirit's pain within his own mind. The colors were finally settling in the portrait. Through the pores, a new portrait was forming. All at once, Jasper felt his mind open up. Across the darkness, images and thoughts one after the other began to bombard him.

At first, the thoughts were disconnected, a curious form of double think, and then he was given one cold, lucid thought that replayed sickeningly in his head. Tuning into it, he suddenly knew what was coming. There, just around the corner of his mind, he caught a glimpse of the swimming future. As he picked up the strings of time, memories from the past opened before him like a curtain drawn back on a string.

And just like that, Jasper knew the identity of Lisette's murderer. Saw the undeniable truth. He cast a curious look at the circle of lights pulsing nearby. How wonderful to hold the key to the terrible secret at last.

SATURDAY — 5:00 AM

Seated on the lower slab of altar steps, Adrian wished he wasn't so damn bad at waiting. Since his declaration that they would wait the spirit out, the silence in the chapel had grown oppressive, making his insides feel like a taut cable wire. Though he hadn't been to church in years, he still believed in an all-powerful God, and right now he didn't think God would approve of them using his house of worship as a battleground. But what else could they do? They were safe nowhere else in the house. No crawlspace or corner would keep them immune from the cloud of sparkling light.

Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead. He had to think of a plan — any plan. However, he was currently devoid of ideas. And concentrating with such fervor to find one only forced his head to ache. He let his gaze do a long, slow slide to the chapel doors at the rear of the aisle way. What was the cloud's next trick? Would it be a fiendish revenge for their success in outwitting it so far?

He heard movement nearby and remembered he wasn't alone in his apprehension. Janice was exhibiting her fair share of nerves. In fact, her restless pacing back and forth in front of him was getting under his skin. With each turn of the room, her edginess raised a few more notches. Well, it was understandable. Fear of the unknown was knotting his own stomach. Should he reassure Janice? No, he didn't think it would calm either of their strained nerves. Anyway, he wasn't sure he wanted Janice to be calm. Fear kept the senses heightened and if Janice were scared, she wouldn't relax her mind. For the last few minutes, he couldn't chase away the unsettling thought that if either of them dropped the barriers of their minds to a relaxed state, their attacker would seize the opportunity to overwhelm them.

Adrian watched a flash of blue streak by his line of vision again. Sweet Jesus, the silence around them was enough to give anyone the screaming meemies. A blue pant leg flashed by again, striding away and then back again. Adrian stretched one leg out, barring Janice's path.

“Stop. You're making me dizzy.”

She stood there, facing him, but managing not to look directly at him.

“Sorry. I keep thinking that if I don't keep moving, my mind will be snatched away.”

They were on same wavelength, Adrian thought. Both sensed the same danger. Both knew the consequences. Adrian cocked his arm and patted the cold marble slab beside him.

“Come sit down. Let me entertain you.” She hesitated, a momentary look of unease crossing her face. Adrian grinned, patting the slab beside him again. “C'mon. I don't mean what you think. I'm not going to touch you. I thought we might wile away the time with a little magic.” Sighing, she plopped down beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees and casting him an attentive glance. Adrian reached out his hand. “Your compass, please.” She forked it over quickly. As his fingers collided with the plastic, a mewling wail screeched beyond the chapel doorway, rattling the nails on its hinges, and sending both of their glances to the back of the chapel in alarm. Behind their heads, the stained glass windows began to vibrate under the bellowing wail.

“Sweet Jesus!” Janice muttered, grasping Adrian's arm and huddling closer to him.

Adrian's head whipped around, stunned to hear his favorite vulgarity leave her lips. She had been around him too long — not only was she thinking like him, she was starting to swear like him. He switched the compass to his left hand and the mewl hissed away, cascading over their heads like the hum of live power wires. Adrian squashed an urge to duck under the invisible heat. It wouldn't do to let the spirit sense their agitation. He listened to the silence that fell instead. When no other sound taunted them, he wrapped his fingers around the compass and turned to Janice, clearing his throat.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” He raised his hand, flashing the compass at Janice, who nodded. Sure of her attention, he rhythmically moved his fingers, making the compass vanish from his right hand to his left and back again. He heard her swift intake of breath and explained, “The one thing that makes an act better than average is showmanship. Showmanship makes the ordinary extraordinary. This is called the French Drop.”

Adrian began a series of now-you-see-it, now-you-don't swaps. As his fingers flexed through the motions, he felt an unexpected surge of enjoyment. It was good to see a face register obvious pleasure in his illusion. It made him feel young again, when as a boy, the joy of magic had been the center of his universe. He had done magic for the love of it then. It helped take away the edge of his loneliness. With one last flow of his fingers, he raised both hands to Janice, displaying empty palms. She inhaled sharply.

“How did you do that?”

Adrian lowered his hands.

“Tricks of the trade.”

“No, really, Adrian, where is the compass?”

Adrian's lips tilted in a boyish smile, liking the way her eyes sparkled at him with a combination of disbelief and eagerness. He leaned forward, his right hand searching her left ear. Pulling back his hand, he revealed the compass once more to her. She tore it from his grasp. Wonder filled her voice as she turned it over in her palm.

“How did you do that? I was watching carefully.”

Adrian's mouth snaked to a wry grin.

“Obviously not close enough.”

She seemed to accept that answer, though she didn't look up at him again. Instead, she continued staring at the compass and twirling it. Adrian wondered what she found so intriguing to think about.

“What happened to you, Adrian? What happened to you to make you so jaded and cynical about life?”

She asked the question with such sincerity and caring that Adrian responded unexpectedly with the truth.

“Death. That's what happened to me.”

Her head shot up then, her glance searching his.

“You lost someone you loved very much?”

Adrian tore his gaze from her searing one, to a point beyond her right shoulder.

“Not just someone. Everyone. My life is one long trail of people dying and me moving on. I never knew my parents. They were killed in a sailing accident. I was washed up with the boat wreckage and eventually found by a retired sea captain. Life was good back then. He loved me a lot. No one's ever loved me that way since, not even my ex-wife.” His gaze sought Janice's face and he noticed her expression was pained, as though she had been wounded. His laugh sounded broken even to his ears.

“He recognized my gift of second sight long before I did and encouraged it. He saw how good I was with my hands. Taught me what little magic he knew. The rest came from books. He said it would help to ease the loneliness of living with a crusty old bachelor.” Adrian smiled, suddenly amused. “He was right, the old salt. Magic became the center of my universe.”

“You saw his death coming, didn't you?”

Adrian dropped his gaze, scanning the slim fingers caressing the compass.

“Yes. I suppose being the foolish boy I was back then, I thought my gift could overpower death. It was a devastating moment for me when I realized I couldn't save him.”

Reaching over, Adrian plucked the compass from Janice's fingers and began to flip it in and out of his palm. She watched the nervous gesture a moment before commenting softly.

“I once saw a film where a character said how we face death is as important as how we face life. That thought stuck with me for a long time. In a small way, it wormed its way into my paintings, which in turn have given meaning to a lot of people who can't cope with their lives as they are.”

Adrian spun the compass between his fingers. He ventured a subtle question.

“What would you tell a patient haunted by visions of a red-headed woman?”

Her reply was husky.

“Was it as bad as all that, Adrian?”

Adrian lifted his gaze from the compass.

“No, actually your image was comforting. I could always rely on it, no matter how many foster homes I was moved to. It would go away for months, but, like the proverbial bad penny, it always came back.”

Slim fingers plucked the compass from his grasp and Adrian twisted his head to find Janice staring at him pensively.

“I don't suppose this will mean much to you coming from me, Adrian, but my sister Bibi saw your act in Vegas last year. She talked about it for months afterwards. Tonight at the rehearsal, I saw what impressed her so. Watching your illusions, I never felt so connected to the beauty of sight, sound and movement. And the others in the room felt it, too.” She pinned him with a long, silent scrutiny and though he wanted to look away, Adrian found he couldn't. She was mesmerizing him with her sexy, husky contralto. “You've been blessed, Adrian, though you can't see it. And you're luckier than most. Some people never find anyone to love or anyone to love them. You've been loved by a sea captain, a wife, and an adoring public.” Adrian felt her open his palm and drop the compass into its center. He looked down at the fingers curling his own over the plastic and took comfort from the warmth. “You're a nice man, Adrian Magus,” she murmured, “and all your barbed insults can't ever make me dislike you again.”

She removed her fingers, leaving him to stare at the compass in his palm. He felt a strange wetness forming behind his eyes and willed it away.

“You're one hell of a counselor, Doctor.” He closed his fist and cleared his throat. “You'd make one hell of a lap dog.”

She gave a bright laugh and Adrian swung about, depositing the compass on the floor in front of them.

“Now,” he grinned boyishly, “here comes my best trick yet.”