Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7) (7 page)

She pulled the footlocker into the lobby of the hotel. It was a very nice space. A hanging water sculpture created an aesthetic that distinguished it from other lobbies. A black and gold color scheme was tasteful and opulent.

The doorman wore a black suit and a yellow tie. "You must be the performer," he said. "They're waiting for you in the Grand Ballroom. Take a left and go all the way down the hall, please."

Sheryl raised her eyebrows in surprise.

She followed the directions. She spent her life in hotels, and she could tell this was an expensive one. The brass fixtures looked like real metal instead of plastic. The carpeting was soft and padded instead of the cheap, thin stuff found in most hotels.

She opened the stained glass doors of the ballroom and went inside. Considering how much she was being paid, she expected a big audience. Instead, the cavernous room was almost empty. Only nine people sat on chairs arranged in a semi-circle. Aaron and his red-haired girlfriend were in the center of the small group.

"This is it?" Sheryl said.

Aaron nodded. "Yes. You're in the right spot. Let me introduce you to my associates. Jack, Nancy, Kamal, Marina, Bethany, Leanna, Norbert, and Tawni."

Sheryl looked at the odd mixture of faces. Bethany and Leanna were identical twins, and their expressions were strangely blank. One girl wore costume jewelry made to look like a diamond necklace with an oversized pendent. Norbert was as massively muscular as Aaron. Jack also looked like a tough guy, although he was more compact. Kamal was obviously from India.

Sheryl's attention was drawn to Tawni. She was a tall, beautiful, athletic woman. Dark skin and sharply defined features made her elegant and exotic. Sheryl could easily imagine Tawni as the queen of an African nation.

"Begin your show," Aaron said. "We're eager to see what you can do."

Sheryl laid her footlocker on the floor. "You're serious? You paid me a million dollars to perform in front of your friends?"

"That's right. I'll also pay for your hotel room tonight."

She furrowed her brow. "You realize this won't even be my best performance. There won't be any grand illusions. I threw together this show on short notice."

"It will be fine. Begin." He sounded impatient.

"I need a table."

"Norbert, get a table, please."

Norbert jumped up and rushed out of the room.

Sheryl opened her footlocker and examined the contents. She decided to start with some rope tricks. They were easy and a good way to assess the mood of her audience. She could already tell it was a thoughtful, quiet group.

A minute later, Norbert returned with a circular, black table. It looked heavy, but he carried it effortlessly. He placed it in front of her.

She took a six-foot piece of rope out of the footlocker. It had two slip knots tied near the ends. A moveable knot made from another small piece was also at the right end. She draped the rope over her hands so all the knots were hidden from the audience.

"To start with," she said, "I'll show you how to tie three knots at one time."

She made a looping motion to tie a new knot in the center of the rope. She drew her hands apart quickly, exposing the two slip knots. To the audience, it looked like three knots had appeared at once.

"I can untie them just as easily."

She blew on one of the slip knots and gave the rope a gentle pull. The knot popped loose and vanished. She blew on the middle knot, but it didn't release because it was the real one.

She smiled apologetically. "Sometimes, they're stubborn."

She untied that knot the normal way.

"Let's see if this one behaves better."

She blew on the second slip knot and caused it to release. At the same time, she pulled the moveable knot to the center of the rope but kept it concealed with her hand.

"And finally," she said, "when I'm in a hurry, I use my patented whip tie."

She snapped the rope in the air, grabbed the ends, and pulled it taut. The moveable knot was now visible.

She waited for applause but heard only a few polite claps. It was a depressing sound.

Aaron stood up and walked around behind her. "Do it again."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to see the trick from this side."

Sheryl shook her head. "I only do a trick once. Please, sit down and let me continue the show."

He stood in place with his arms crossed. The room became very quiet. She remembered he was remarkably skilled with a gun, although he didn't appear armed at the moment.

"Besides," she added, "the trick requires preparation."

"I'll wait."

She looked at the others and saw no sympathy. She was on her own.

"I'll break the rules just this once," she said.

Sheryl retied the slip knots in full view of everybody. It wasn't a special trick, anyway. She didn't feel bad about revealing the secret.

She repeated the performance without bothering with patter. She simply rushed through the motions silently.

"Now let me try," Aaron said.

Sheryl glared at him. "Are you serious?"

His handsome face had an intense, brooding expression. Overgrown eyebrows cast shadows over eyes that stared at her without blinking.

She gave the rope to him.

He duplicated the trick with a surprisingly deft touch. Magic seemed to come naturally to him.

He sat down. "You may continue."

"Thank you." She sniffed.

She took a long, thin piece of rope out of her footlocker. She showed it to the audience to prove it had no knots this time, and indeed, there were none. She began to coil the rope around the fingers of her left hand. This action seemed innocent, but it was the heart of the trick. She was actually going back and forth and bending her fingers in a special way to tangle the rope. She laid the coil down on the table, and it still appeared normal.

"This is a variation of the whip tie," she said, "except this time I'll do ten knots at once."

She grabbed the end of the rope and gave it a hard jerk. The tangles tightened and ten knots formed instantly. She held up the rope so everybody could inspect her work.

Marina jumped up. "I want to try that." She walked around the table.

"I'm not even done with the trick," Sheryl said.

Marina just stood with an eager expression.

"Please, I'm trying to put on a professional show. I was paid a million dollars to entertain you."

"I don't care."

Marina's lovely green eyes held a disturbing intensity. There was no compassion in them. Her peculiar perfume made Sheryl think of a graveyard for some reason.

Sheryl backed away. "I didn't sign up for this. I came here to perform, not unveil my secrets. This isn't a magic class."

"Considering the size of your paycheck, I'd expect a more accommodating attitude," Aaron said. "Teach the trick to Marina."

"What happens if I don't?"

"I don't want to make threats. Cooperate, and no harm will come to you."

"That sounded like a threat to me. Maybe coming here was a mistake." She glanced at the door.

He sighed loudly. "You're wasting everybody's time. Marina, please, encourage her to cooperate."

Marina swept Sheryl's legs with a low kick. Sheryl landed flat on the floor, face down. While she was still stunned, Marina sat on her back, grabbed her hair, and pulled hard. Marina held a long dagger in front of Sheryl's wide eyes.

"Do I have your attention?" Marina whispered in Sheryl's ear.

Sheryl whimpered. "Yes."

"Aaron and I are the most violent people you've ever met. He exterminates his enemies like rats. The blood I've spilled could fill a swimming pool. We are the monsters from your nightmares."

Sheryl swallowed.

Marina continued, "If we give an order, we expect it to be obeyed. Everybody else in this room understands that rule. Do you?"

The edge of the dagger gleamed in the light. It looked razor sharp.

"Yes," Sheryl said.

"The correct response is 'yes, ma'am.'" Marina gave Sheryl's hair a sharp jerk.

Sheryl winced in pain. "Yes, ma'am."

"And you will address Aaron as sir. Think of him as your personal god." Marina released Sheryl and stood up.

Sheryl's legs were shaking as she got to her feet. She felt nauseous. Marina's dagger was already gone, hidden somewhere in her clothes.

"Teach me the rope trick," Marina said in a cold voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Four

The performance lasted two hours, and for Sheryl, it was a very long and miserable two hours. Aaron and Marina kept interrupting and making her repeat tricks. A few times, they suggested variations and demanded that Sheryl try them. She felt like a student taking an exam in front of a classroom.

Aaron was particularly relentless. She was learning two things about the man. First, he was insatiably curious. When he had a question, he wouldn't stop pressing until it was answered. Second, he didn't give a damn about politeness or manners. He obviously didn't care if other people thought he was a total asshole.

Sheryl was finally on her last trick. There were more gadgets, but she didn't intend to use them. This show had gone on long enough.

She took a sheet of paper and some pencils from the footlocker. In front of everybody, she tore the sheet into nine roughly even pieces. She distributed the scraps of paper and pencils to the audience.

"I want everybody to write a three digit number on your paper," she said. "Any number will do. Fold up the paper and don't let me see."

While they were working, she went back to her footlocker. She dug out a piece of slate, chalk, and an envelope. She placed these items on the table.

"Everybody ready?" she asked.

Her audience nodded.

She picked up the slate and used the chalk to write the number "514." She didn't let anybody see what she was writing. She placed the slate on the table with the number hidden.

"Aaron," she said, "please, gather up the papers and mix them around in your hand. Make sure you don't know whose is whose."

Aaron gave her a distrustful look as he followed her instructions.

"Thank you," Sheryl said. "Now, choose one piece of paper at random. Put it in the envelope and seal it. I'll look away just to be extra safe."

She went back to the footlocker. While he was working with the envelope, she retrieved a cigarette lighter from her tightly packed supplies. With the same hand, she covertly grabbed a prepared scrap of paper and hid it between her fingers.

"Ready?" she said.

"Yes," he answered.

She turned around and faced him. "Please, give me the envelope."

He handed the envelope to her. She used the cigarette lighter to ignite the corner. The envelope and the paper inside were made of flash paper, so they burst into flame instantly. She tossed the envelope into the air and simultaneously released the prepared scrap which was made of ordinary paper. To the audience, it appeared as if the envelope had burned up, leaving the chosen paper behind.

The prepared scrap fell to the ground. Sheryl picked it up and made a show of wiping off the soot.

She handed it to Aaron. "Please, read the number."

"5-1-4," he read aloud.

She grabbed the slate off the table and turned it around with a professional smile. She was rewarded with polite applause.

"I figured it out," Aaron said. "It's not a very good trick."

Her whole body sagged. "It works on most people, sir."

"Most people are idiots." He returned to his seat.

"Regardless, that was my last trick. I'd like to go to my hotel room now. I'm tired. Thank you for being such a memorable audience." She closed the footlocker and latched it.

"You're not leaving," Aaron said.

"Why not?" She looked at him. "You want an encore?"

"No. I'm going to interview you now. I want to know your hopes and dreams. Your secret fears. You're going to tell me everything."

Sheryl opened her mouth to complain, but the look in his eyes stopped her voice. He would get his answers even if it killed her. The strangely dark shadows had returned to his face, and this time, she was sure it wasn't an illusion. The light was avoiding him.

Everybody else watched her silently. None of them would lift a finger to help her. She felt very alone and afraid.

She cleared her throat. "First, could you tell me who you are, sir?"

"When the time is right," Aaron said. "I know you grew up in Houston even though you lost your Texas accent. Your mother is a nurse and your father is a high school basketball coach. You attended the University of Texas, but you quit after three years and never graduated. Let's start there. Why did you drop out of school?"

She stared at him in shock. He had done his homework, and that fact made her uncomfortable. She had dealt with stalkers before.

"Dropping out wasn't the plan," she said. "My parents had very little money, so I had to support myself while I went to school. I performed magic on weekends. My first gigs were birthday parties, and everybody loved my act. Within a year, I was doing corporate functions and trade shows. They paid well but required serious rehearsal. I had less time for studying."

"And eventually, you became a professional magician instead of a student."

"When I got an invitation to perform at the Magic Castle in Los Angeles, I knew I was done with school. It was a good decision financially. I earn a lot of money as an entertainer."

"432,000 dollars last year," he said.

She narrowed her eyes. It wasn't fair that he knew everything about her, and she knew nothing about him.

"More or less."

"What drew you to magic in the first place?" he said.

"Why do you care? What is this about?"

"Answer the question."

She took a deep breath to regain her composure. "I suppose it started when I was a little girl. I've loved secrets and mysteries for as long as I can remember. They make me feel special. I hate being just like everybody else."

"I know about secrets and mysteries." He nodded.

"I bet you do. I still haven't figured out that spitting trick."