Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions (8 page)

“How can someone defy time, Sophie? He has neither
the looks, nor the physique of a man in his fifties. In my opinion,
Stephen Elliott is no ordinary magician. I think he dabbles in
black magic, you know, sorcery. Perhaps he should be reported to
the authorities—”

Her voice faded away as the line of people started
moving again.

Ruby’s face grew pale and her eyes flew wide. Her
fingers dug into his arm. “I have lost my appetite, darling.” Her
voice was calm, but firm. “Shall we go home? I am not feeling
well.”

Stephen’s mind spun, could two elderly gossips
possibly cause him harm? “Certainly, my dear. Let’s take our leave
right away.”

Forcing himself to walk and act normally proved to
be difficult, especially when they had to stop repeatedly to speak
to friends, neighbors, and folks who knew “The Illusionist.” In his
mind’s eye he could envision the Philadelphia police officers
coming through the door at any moment to arrest him as they had in
Mexico City.

Retrieving their wraps, Stephen helped Ruby don her
coat. Then a male voice behind him made his blood run cold.

Chapter Six

“Mr. Marchand, how good to see you, sir.” Ruby spoke
first as she looked over Stephen’s shoulder.

Slowly, trying to control his temper, he turned to
face the man who had arranged the trip to Mexico all those years
ago. Memories of the beating he took and the cold, damp cell were
as fresh as the day they threw him in prison.

In a flash the anger dissipated. The man was elderly
now, a white-haired frail creature, sitting hunched in a
wheelchair. Thomas Marchand. Physically only a shadow of the fine
gentleman he once was, the man smiled toothlessly up at
Stephen.

“Mr. Elliott, may I congratulate you on your
continued success?” He held out a bony hand to Stephen, who offered
a perfunctory shake so as not to insult or injure. “I was sorry to
read of your brother’s passing. Michael was a fine solicitor, and a
very shrewd businessman too.”

They exchanged polite conversation with Mr. Marchand
and his nephew, who served as an escort. No explanation of
Marchand’s absence all these intervening years was given and none
asked for.

As they said their farewells and waited for the
hired carriage, Stephen doubted he would ever see Marchand alive
again. The man had to be eighty or more. The resentment he had
harbored for all these years was gone, and he realized how useless
the emotion had been.

Once they were alone in the carriage, Ruby once
again grasped his upper arm so tightly he could feel her nails
through his heavy coat sleeve.

“Stephen, I have been wondering the same thing those
women were speaking of. Why haven’t you aged at all? You do look
just as you did twenty years ago.” She spoke in a low, urgent
voice. “Something has happened to you, I can sense it.”

He gave her hand a pat then urged her fingers loose
from their death grip. “That cannot be, Ruby. Nothing has happened
to me. I am just fit and healthy. You know some folks age slower
than others.” He kept any other comments she might misconstrue off
his lips. She had been insulted by the two women’s comments and
lashed out at him as a consequence.

“Darling, there is no reason for concern,” he
continued. “You are still as beautiful as the day we met.”

She hit him on the shoulder, surprisingly hard for a
small lady. “I’m not worried about me, you dolt. It is you I’m
concerned about.”

He shrugged, but inched away from her and her sharp
nails. “I admit they had me feeling a bit apprehensive with their
talk of black magic, but it is just nonsense from gossipy
women.”

Ruby made no comment, which was a bad omen. When his
wife stopped talking and began thinking, it usually meant Stephen
would pay some kind of price.

As it turned out, he did have good reason for his
qualms when he opened the door one week later to find Doctor Walker
on the doorstep with his black bag in hand.

“Hello, Doctor Walker,” Stephen stood back and
allowed the man to enter. “What brings you here today? Is Ruby
suffering from some malady she has not seen fit to enlighten me
on?”

Collecting the doctor’s black coat, he draped it on
the coat rack in the wide foyer.

“No, Mr. Elliott. Your wife has summoned me about
you.”

Stephen had no time to recover from this surprise
before Ruby swept in from the kitchen, greeting the doctor warmly.
“How good of you to come, Doctor Walker.”

She turned to Stephen. “I asked the doctor to come
and check you over since you have been feeling a bit run down
lately.”

As she made the ludicrous statement, she cocked her
head ever so slightly, asking him to play along. Stephen had been
out maneuvered. He gave in with a sigh.

When the physician finished with his examination
thirty minutes later, Stephen put on his shirt again. The older man
took a seat in one of the library’s leather wingbacks, regarding
him solemnly.

“Mr. Elliott, you are in remarkable health,” the
doctor declared. “By our fifties we often start to experience
arthritis and other signs of aging—” He peered at Stephen over the
top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. “However, you seem to be an
exception to the rule. Have you no need of corrective eyeglasses
either?”

Stephen shook his head and sat down in the chair
opposite the doctor. “Thank you, sir, I am sure my wife will be
pleased to hear this information. I am sorry you were called out
here for no reason. I attribute my good health to regular physical
activities and my wife’s excellent cooking.”

The man hesitated for a moment then gazed at Stephen
with uncertainty in his kind old eyes.

“Is there something you wish to say, Doctor
Walker?”

“I don’t know quite how to put this, Mr. Elliott. I
find it most distasteful to ask, but I must or I fear there will be
no end to the pressure induced on me to obtain an answer.”

“To whom and what are you referring?” Stephen was
confused. He stood and shrugged into his jacket again.

“There has been, ahem, talk about you. At
night.”

“Doctor Walker!”

“Please let me say this, sir.” The man’s forehead
glistened with sweat. “I need to know. I can put their fears to
rest.”

“Whose fears?”

“The lady’s name shall not pass my lips, sir.” The
old man drew himself up, putting on a righteous air. But Stephen
wasn’t fooled. The doctor was trying to deflect his own culpability
for an uncomfortable situation.

“Just ask your question, Doctor. I may or may not
answer it.”

With a deep breath, the physician plunged in. “What
are you doing late at night in your workshop that requires you to
be…um…unclothed?”

“You’ve been looking in my windows!” Stephen
couldn’t help but yell. Anger reared its ugly head, flooding his
body with hot rage. He jumped to his feet and began pacing, trying
to think.

“N-no, I…uh…the lady,” the doctor nearly fell off
his chair with surprise.

How can I possibly answer the question? Dare I
refuse to allay their fears?
Reflexively Stephen started to
reach for the stone, but remembered he had locked it in the desk
drawer for the examination. He walked to the sideboard and poured
out some whiskey then froze. If he drank this, word would surely
get back about how the famous magician was a drunk.

“Would you like a drink?” He held the glass out to
the doctor.

With a nod, the man accepted the glass and gulped it
down with a gasp.

“Doctor Walker, I will say this once and once only.
What a man and his wife do, in the privacy of their own home, or
workshop, is no one’s concern but their own.”

“I—yes—certainly. Quite so, sir. I apologize for the
question.” Picking up his black bag, the doctor stood.

Relaxing, Stephen smiled. The poor man was
mortified. Draping a companionable arm around his shoulder, the
magician led the way out.

“In the future, sir, you may want to reconsider
listening to neighborhood talk.”

“I have to agree with you there, Mr. Elliott. I
deserve to be chastised.”

Apologizing again, his face still as red at the
holly berries on the Christmas wreath; the physician stepped out of
the library.

Ruby waited in the hall. “How is he, Doctor
Walker?”

The physician’s eyes darted from her face to
Stephen’s then to the front door. “Your husband is fine, Mrs.
Elliott. There are no problems with his health, I assure you.”
Hurrying to the door, he spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll see myself
out,” he mumbled and was gone.

Ruby closed the door after briefly watching the
rotund doctor scurry to his carriage and drive away. Then she
turned and regarded Stephen from head to toe.

Grinning, he shoved his hands in his pockets and
leaned against the doorjam, waiting for her to speak. Finally she
let out a sigh and came closer, wrapping her arms around him. “I
still think something is amiss.”

“What is amiss is how my wife has no faith in my
physical abilities,” he said, and reached down to lift her into his
arms. All this fuss about his body made him randy as hell. In three
strides he was heading up the staircase. “I intend, my dear, to
demonstrate how capable I can be.”

Her answer was a giggle as she draped her arms
around his neck and put her head on his shoulder.

As they lay in each other’s arms, perspiration on
their satiated bodies cooling, Ruby expressed what had apparently
been on her mind. “Why were you shouting at the doctor tonight, my
love?”

“Oh, yes. We need some curtains for the workshop
windows, sweetheart,” he said, lifting and positioning her on her
side so her rump was against his front. Both of his hands were full
of her luscious breasts.

“What does that have to do with yelling at Doctor
Walker?”

“Apparently someone saw me replenishing my magical
abilities.” He nuzzled his nose into the base of her slender
neck.

“What?” Ruby violently flipped over to face him in
the darkness. “Someone saw you n-naked and had the audacity to ask
Doctor Walker to question you?”

Stephen put his fingers back on her breasts, loving
the way they filled his hands. “So it would seem.”

“This isn’t a good omen. What if someone decides
again you are performing black magic and you get put in prison…or
worse?”

“You worry far too much, darling. I let the good
doctor believe someone had witnessed a perfectly legal act between
a husband and wife.” He cupped her face in the darkness. “An act
very similar to what we just did.”

She shoved his hands away. “I see how much better
this will appear. Now we will be discussed as sexual deviants who
make love in a workshop in the light of a full moon.”

Stephen grinned, rolled onto his back, and closed
his eyes, ready for sleep. “I quite like the image, Ruby. We should
try it.”

* * *

Using his coat sleeve, Stephen rubbed the bird
droppings off the shiny black fender of his Ford Model T. The auto
sat gleaming in the sunlight in front of the house. Oh, how he
loved this machine.

He grasped the handle and gave it a crank. Only half
a turn and all four cylinders sprang to life, purring throatily.
This was the sound of a real powerful driving machine. He couldn’t
wait to get the vehicle out, away from the people and houses, so it
could hum along at top speed.

Today was perfect for driving—clear and sunny—and it
hadn’t rained in over a week. The mud holes in the road should be
dried up nicely.

Jumping into the seat, he put it in gear and drove
away, waving to Ruby who stood on the front porch watching.

What a glorious day! This would be a wonderful time
to have whole day to take a respite from the accounting books and,
truth be told, away from planning and practicing magic.

Last evening he had endured the re-energizing
process so he would be fully prepared for tomorrow’s show. The
almanac had said rain was coming, so he wanted to make sure he had
enough magical power. After his experience with Doctor Walker,
Stephen had made sure the gate to the back yard was locked, no one
was lurking in the bushes, and the new curtains Ruby had made were
fully drawn. Only after these precautions were completed did he
fully disrobe and expose the Mayan charm and himself to the
moonlight’s power. Stephen preferred to perform the process naked
because his body didn’t heat up as much, cooled faster, and
absorbed more energy.

He steered the shiny machine around a corner.
Restoring himself totally nude had all the earmarks of a sexual
pagan experience. Ruby knew the effect of his lunar encounters.
Inevitably, Stephen would wake in the workshop as randy as a
stallion. When he recovered and staggered up to bed, she was always
there to offer comfort.

Occupied with these thoughts, Stephen prepared to
turn onto a busy street, heading for the shops. A pretty little
bauble might help improve his wife’s mood of late.

In front, a man driving a horse-drawn wagon full of
lumber headed around the bend. A group of children lingered in
front of the sweet shop on the corner, looking in the window at the
colorful display. The wagon took the turn too fast. First one
eight-foot length shifted then suddenly the whole stack teetered.
The horse shrieked. Stephen reacted.

The woman with the children faced the horror as the
event unfolded. Her expression would end up staying with Stephen
for years.

Instinctively braking hard, he reached toward the
falling load. Green light beams shot from his fingertips. The
boards froze in mid-air feet from the children.

Slamming the auto into neutral and pulling the
parking brake lever with his free hand, Stephen jumped out and
focused both hands on the heavy wood. By now people were screaming.
The wagon overturned with a loud grinding groan. The driver jumped
clear, landing in a heap on the dirt road. Someone sprinted over to
lend the driver aid.