The Magician's Blood

by Linda G. Hill

  “I missed your eighteenth too.”

  “Yeah.” She ruffled his hair and he swatted her hand away.

  “So, where’s your new boyfriend?” he asked.

  “He’s around.” Herman glanced at her father, who was forcing a smile, and then she turned to the aunt she barely knew. The woman, as tall and solidly built as her younger sister, held out her arms for a hug.

  “Aunt Beryl, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, dear.” Her face lit up in a way that smoothed out her wrinkles. “You look lovely. I’ve seen pictures, but they certainly don’t do you justice.”

  “They were of the old me, I guess,” Herman said, blushing a little. “According to Dad and Chad, I’ve changed a lot over the last little while.”

  “Have you ever,” Chad said, staring at her.

  “I don’t always dress like this. I’m wearing my costume for the performance tonight.” She glanced at her father again to see if there was any reaction, but his fake grin remained fixed.

  “Where is Stephen, anyway?” he asked.

  “Right here,” Stephen said, stepping through the burgundy curtain with a flourish of fabric. “Hello, George, nice to see you again,” he said, nodding.

  “You two know each other?” Chad asked.

  “We met at the airport earlier,” Stephen said without missing a beat. “You must be Chad.”

  “Yeah. Are you really a real magician?”

  “I really am.” He was in costume too—his usual black tux, with full lace ruffles down the front of his white shirt instead of a tie. In his makeup already, to Herman he looked breathtaking. He stepped up to Chad and pulled a coin out from behind his ear.

  Chad rolled his eyes. “Even my dad can do that!”

  Stephen laughed. “Can he, now? Well, hopefully you’ll see me do something tonight that your dad can’t do.”

  Herman watched as her boyfriend glanced at her father; his forced smile went from pained to menacing.

  Stephen turned to Aunt Beryl and Herman introduced them. Beryl’s face reddened as she held her hand out and Stephen graciously kissed it.

  “I can see the family resemblance. You and your sister are very alike,” he said.

  “You’ve met Doreen?”

  “Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her a few months ago in Ottawa. She is a lovely lady.”

  “Th—thank you. I mean, yes.”

  When Stephen swiveled to look at Herman, she realized she’d been grinning since he made his appearance. Her heart filled with pride, knowing he belonged to her.

  “We need to make our final preparations, my love.” He took her hand and turned back to her family. “I hope you’ll be able to come back and chat after the show.”

  Aunt Beryl nodded emphatically, and George said, “I think so.”

  Chad said, “Yeah!”

  “Have you made arrangements already to spend some time with Chad while we’re here?” Stephen asked Herman.

  “I was hoping we could hang out at the West Edmonton Mall tomorrow, if that’s all right with you, Aunt Beryl.”

  “That would be great!” Her aunt nodded again.

  “Okay then, we’ll see you after the show,” Stephen said, leading them to the stage door so they could take their seats.

  In their dressing room, Stephen helped her put the finishing touches on her makeup. Margaret was nowhere to be seen.

  He kissed her one last time before he applied her lipstick. He wasn’t wearing any tonight, though he did occasionally.

  Herman puckered and a familiar rush of nerves that had nothing to do with stage fright traveled through her body.

  “You’re nervous?” he asked.

  He held the lipstick away from her lips and she said, “Uh-huh.”

  “Forget they’re there. You’ve done this plenty of times now. Concentrate on me.”

  “I think once I get out there I’ll be okay. I always feel a little jittery before a show.”

  “I know.” He sat back looking at her face critically.

  “Herman?”

  “Yes?” She looked him in the eye.

  “You’ll be fine.” He kissed her cheek as he stood. “I’m going out to check and see if they’re almost ready for us.”

  “I’ll wait here.”

  She squinted at her image in the mirror and tried to see a resemblance to her father, sitting in the same position, wearing approximately the same makeup, waiting to go onstage. But it was different for him because, at least in Stephen’s estimation, her dad was the magician, only posing as the assistant. Herman knew nothing of magic other than the connection she had with Stephen—the electricity that flowed between them—which was the only thing that kept her upright and smiling. She wondered if he knew how much she relied on that power. Tonight, she would be counting heavily on him to carry her through. The ladder, if anything, might stump her father, and she knew he would watch with a critical eye. She was still gazing at her reflection, lost in thought, when Stephen returned. He stood in the doorway and held out his hand for her.

  “My love, it’s time,” he said. It was their ritual; before each performance, with those very same words he came to get her, escorted her onstage on his arm, and presented her to the audience. She would curtsy, and the audience would cheer, then the show would begin.

  Her nervousness melted away, as she knew in her heart it would, while she watched Stephen perform. She even managed to smile at her family. They all smiled back at her, and her father gave her a thumbs-up, a compliment of the highest honor, considering how long he had been doing her exact job, at least in appearance.

  When the time came to perform the ladder, Stephen led her to the base and nodded at her reassuringly—nothing different from any other performance. She slipped out of her shoes. The moment her foot touched the bottom rung, her hands began to shake. She tried to convince herself she was just being silly. Forcing herself to take the first step, and then another, she reached the rung on which she knew to stop.

  Stephen gave a warning to the audience and, as always, the odd person let out an exclamation of horror when Herman’s body split in two. It was as she reached the third rung of five, the illusion showing the top half of her body getting farther away from the lower, that her foot slipped. Luckily it wasn’t the foot she had most of her weight on, but she felt a pull in her hip like she had stretched a muscle. She reached down to touch it but stopped short when Stephen shouted, “Herman, no!”

  It was too late. She tried to pull her hand up, but her finger was stuck to her hip. She pushed down on the full panic that was building in her chest, despite half of the people in the front rows screaming without constraint. Glancing down, she saw Stephen look out into the first row, presumably at her father. He held up his hand before reaching down to grab something at the bottom of the ladder and sprinting up it as fast as he could go. She gripped the rung with her one free hand, the ladder seeming to sway twice as much as it should have with his added weight. He stopped just below her and gently held the finger that was stuck to her hip. As soon as he let go, her finger was released. She lifted her hand to cling to the rung that was level with her face and exhaled heavily.

  When she looked down, Stephen held up three fingers. “Three rungs back together and then down,” he mouthed without looking her in the eye, and she nodded her understanding.

  Still shaking, she performed the steps necessary to appear in one piece, concentrating like never before on every movement. As always, the moment the illusion was complete, the audience applauded. She reached the floor and Stephen took her hand—the one that had been stuck—and he walked with her, their hands held high, to the front of the stage where she curtsied and he bowed. The audience was on its feet and the show was over.

  The curtain closed, and Herman fell into Stephen’s arms, barely giving him a chance to turn off his mic. “I was so scared,” she whispered in his ear.

  “You were wonderful,” he said, put
ting his forehead to hers.

  “What the hell happened?” Margaret asked, coming up behind Herman. “Why didn’t you tell her not to reach down?”

  Stephen smiled. “It never really occurred to me what that would do to the illusion, but it made perfect sense, didn’t it?”

  Margaret shook her head and whispered, “Fuuuuck,” as she walked away.

  “What did happen?” Herman asked.

  “Your finger fell off,” Stephen said mildly, taking her hand and holding it up in front of her face so she could inspect it for herself. “Which reminds me, we need to find your ring.”

  Herman looked at the finger; it didn’t feel any different. But she was concerned about her ring. An onyx band with a garnet set in it—both stones that represented protection—it was handed down to Stephen by his grandmother. He had given it to her for her birthday. She followed him to search for her beloved piece of jewelry. He found it near the bottom of the ladder, sitting on the curtain that covered the scaffolding.

  “Should we really be using this thing?” Herman asked him, looking up at the ladder as she slipped the ring back on her finger. She thought she caught a glimpse of the ghost of her Aunt Aggie, up in the rafters waving her fist at Stephen, but it might have just been the dimness caused by the lighting below the image. She was about to ask Stephen if he saw the apparition when she heard her father’s voice.

  “That’s a good question,” George said, appearing beside them. With him were Chad, Aunt Beryl, and Margaret.

  “Of course, why not?” Stephen answered.

  “That was so cool!” Chad exclaimed, looking at her hand.

  “Maybe Herman is hesitant to go up there again?” Margaret said.

  Stephen looked at Herman. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I’m okay with it,” she said, glimpsing the confidence in his eyes.

  “The two of you were meant for each other,” Margaret said, sounding exasperated. “You do know you’re as crazy as he is,” she said to Herman.

  “Why crazy?” Herman asked.

  “You just lost a fucking body part!” She turned to Chad. “Excuse my language.”

  “I got it back,” Herman said, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers.

  “Yeah, but have you thought about what might happen if you actually fell?”

  Herman frowned. “What would happen if I fell?” she asked Stephen.

  They all looked at him for the answer. George crossed his arms.

  “I’d catch you,” he said.

  “Which part of me would you catch first?”

  “All of you. You know you don’t actually come apart. It’s an illusion.”

  “So I didn’t actually lose my finger?” She looked from Stephen to Margaret to her father and back to Stephen again.

  “That’s questionable,” Margaret said, staring at Stephen.

  “I’m not a surgeon,” he said, smiling.

  “Okay, so if I didn’t lose my finger, why couldn’t I move until you touched me? Why was my hand stuck? And how did I lose my ring?”

  Herman was relieved her dad hadn’t said anything; what could he say with Chad standing there?

  “I can’t explain why your hand was stuck,” he said.

  “Can’t? Or won’t?” Margaret asked, her eyes narrowed.

  “Won’t,” he amended.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous to have my daughter doing these tricks without a knowledge of how they work?” George asked.

  “I don’t want to know. He’s offered to tell me lots of things, but unless I need to know, I’d rather keep them magic.”

  “I want to know,” Chad piped up.

  “Nobody asked you,” Herman said in a sisterly way.

  He looked disappointed but then his eyes widened. “Can I go up the ladder?”

  “No!” the five adults said at once, Aunt Beryl loudest of all.

  “Did you enjoy the show, Aunt Beryl?” Herman asked.

  “Yes, thank you, Herman. You were beautiful.” She smiled, but her gaze wandered back to the magician. She closed her eyes as though suddenly aware of what she was doing and looked at her niece.

  “I’m afraid I might have been one of the people who screamed when your … accident happened. I’m sorry,” she said, looking sincerely apologetic.

  “That’s okay.” Herman smiled. “Even though Stephen asks the audience to stay calm, there are always a few people who scream, right from the beginning.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having a word with you in private,” George was saying to Stephen, “before I have to leave Edmonton.”

  “How long will you be staying?” Stephen asked.

  “Two days. I’m leaving on Monday afternoon.”

  “Maybe Monday morning then. Will you be bringing Chad to the mall tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take him,” Aunt Beryl volunteered.

  George said, “I’ll come too. We’ll make it a family outing, shall we?” He looked at Herman for an answer, but his sideways glance was directed at Stephen.

  “Can I come?” Margaret asked.

  “Sure,” Herman said, grateful that her friend had once again come to their rescue. It wouldn’t be just family.

  “Great!” Margaret said. “Now, why don’t we find a party to go to?” The way she looked at Stephen seemed to say she wanted to be rescued herself.

  “Aww, I wanted to learn some magic,” Chad said.

  “Maybe your dad will let me show you a few tricks tomorrow,” Stephen said.

  George nodded cautiously. Chad turned to his dad and George smiled at him. “That will be fun,” he said. “As long as it’s nothing too complicated.”

  “Of course not,” Stephen said.

  “Let’s go then, Chad,” Aunt Beryl said. “I’m sure your dad wants to go and spend some adult time with Herman.”

  “Off you go,” George said to his son. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They all said goodbye to Chad and Aunt Beryl, and Herman suggested to Stephen that they get changed.

  “Actually, you might want to stay as you are, unless you want to go back to the hotel,” Stephen said, and she remembered all she had to change into was a short skirt and no panties.

  “Right. Will you get changed before we go out?”

  “Nah, I’ll just take off the coat. Where are we going?” he asked Margaret.

  “There’s a bar …” she said, walking toward the exit.

  “My car is here; should I follow you?” George asked.

  “That’s okay. We can give you a ride home, wherever that is,” Stephen said.

  “Do you really want to come anyway, Dad? You’re not going to get mad if I dance with Stephen, are you?”

  “If all you do is dance with her,” George said to Stephen.

  “What else would I do?”

  George frowned and said nothing.

  “I’d better go and get my bag at least,” Herman said to break the tension. “I’ll need to change my makeup.”

  “We’ll be outside with the groupies.” Stephen kissed her on the cheek and walked away.

  Herman found a dozen white roses in the dressing room with a card, from her father. She took one, knowing the rest, along with their personal effects, would be delivered to the hotel long before they arrived.

  Outside, Stephen and her dad were, indeed, surrounded by groupies. Unconcerned that he might be signing any breasts—he’d promised long ago that his tit-signing days were over—she left them to it and got into the limo with Margaret.

  “How are you doing?” Herman asked.

  Margaret opened her mouth and then closed it again, as though she’d changed her mind about what she was going to say.

  “Sweetie, what ails me is nothing you can help me with, unfortunately. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Herman said, thinking how much she must miss Mark. Or even Charlie.

  Margaret opened t
he fridge and chose a small square-edged bottle with a black label. She took the lid off and knocked it back. As she swallowed, she noticed Herman watching her.

  “Stephen will take care of me,” she said, her glassy gaze wavering. “He always does.”

  Herman glanced out the window to see Stephen wave. He opened the car door and climbed in. George followed.

  Stephen put his arm around her. “Have you figured it out yet?” he asked George.

  “Everything up to the ladder was easy. I’m still working on that one, though. I have to give it to you, that was brilliant.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the compliment.”

  “As was your assistant,” George said, smiling at Herman. “You got my roses.”

  “Yes. Thank you, they’re beautiful.” She put the blossom to her nose and breathed in its fragrance.

  “It is beautiful,” Margaret slurred.

  Stephen watched his best friend. Herman didn’t doubt he’d seen her in such a state before. He would take care of her, as Margaret said he would, whatever that meant.

  Herman held him close as the limo took a few extra turns on the long route to wherever they were going. Nothing else was said until they stopped outside an establishment with a queue as long as the music was loud. The four climbed out of the limo and strolled directly to the door. Stephen spoke to the bouncer and they entered, much to the protests of the people next in line.

  The room threatened to burst at the seams; bodies bounced up and down to the beat of industrial music. The scent of marijuana filled the air, and sprinklers over the dance floor came on in intervals of three seconds every minute, so everyone was soaking wet. Herman knew her costume would quickly become transparent if she stayed on the dance floor, but she was wearing a bra, and her long shirt would cover what she wasn’t wearing under her pants.

  Following a slim woman in a tight black vest that covered a sheer white blouse, they circled the floor and climbed a flight of stairs to a table reserved for VIPs. The moment they were seated, a waitress with heavy makeup and a startlingly short skirt came over and took their order. This lifestyle was easy to get used to; Herman wondered if this was the way her father lived when he was on tour.

  Stephen asked her if she would like to dance. She nodded yes, and they descended to the dance floor. The music had slowed, and the dancers moved with a mixture of sweat and energy; the water falling from the ceiling felt like a gift from heaven after a few minutes. Stephen had shed his coat, and while they danced, she undid half of the buttons amidst the lacy frills down the front of his shirt.