And then he was gone. Just gone.
There was a strange hissing sound near me. I looked down and saw Avolapek the demon disappear, too. Only a faint pink mist remained where he had lain.
“Ah!” Lysander said. “Very nice. I must say, Max, yes, that was very nicely done.”
“What did you do?” I asked, looking down at the pink mist as Max ambled over to stand near me.
“To Avolapek?” He, too, gazed down at the dispersing mist. “It was an alchemical neutralizing formula. As soon as I realized we might be dealing with a case of ritual sacrifice, I prepared it. In most instances, it can immobilize the mystical effect of a sacrifice, a summoning, or a raising for a brief period. Its potency is quite limited, but it has the virtue of being effective on a broad array of phenomena.”
“It seems to have worked potently on Avolapek,” I said.
“No, we had very little time, in fact, and I’m sure Hieronymus knew that. Avolapek was merely stunned, in a sense, and would soon recover. But since we were able to dispatch his summoner before he did recover, he has been returned to the primordial essence whence he came.”
“The demon’s not dead?” Samson asked in disappointment.
“Alas, no. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t able to summon the necessary resources to slay a demon.”
“Oh, but you did real well, Dr. Zadok,” Dixie said.
“You sure did,” said Dolly. “Whoever you are. Why, we’d be demon dinner right now, if it wasn’t for you!”
“I’m here to help,” Max said, beaming at them.
“Wait,” I said. “How did you, er, dispatch the demon’s summoner? I mean…where’d Hieronymus go?”
Lysander, perhaps feeling that our gratitude had shone exclusively on Max for long enough, responded, “That was dissolution.”
“That was dissolution?” My eyes met Max’s. “Something ‘remarkably similar’ to death?”
“My evil young assistant is at one with the cosmos now,” Max said.
“And permanently neutralized,” Lysander said.
“Well, thank God for that,” Golly said. “That guy was a prick!”
Alice, crouching in a corner and watching warily for more disturbing events, growled.
“We need to get out of here,” Sarah said.
“Of course!” Max said.
“But how?” Dolly wondered.
“Lysander, if you will assist me?”
Following their instructions, we all stood in a circle and held hands. Since Alice had to be at the center of our circle in order to be included in our escape, this was a rather nerve-racking process. We closed our eyes and concentrated all our will on returning to the world above—specifically, to the Magic Cabaret, where our reappearance was anxiously awaited, while Max and Lysander sang an incantation chock full of the letters R and S.
The return trip was nearly as nauseating as the one here had been—but at least this time we knew we were going home.
“Yes,” Goudini said into his cell phone, “I’ve got her locked in the ladies’ dressing room here, and we’ve thrown about five pounds of sirloin in with her to tide her over. So we’ll be fine until you can get here with a dose of tranquilizers and her cage. What? Yes, okay. Good. I’ll be waiting. And—oh, yeah—so will Sarah.”
The only thing better than knowing Alice was safely isolated behind a locked door was knowing that Hieronymus was dissolved into the cosmos, forever neutralized, and that the nightmare of the disappearances was finally over.
I raised my plastic beer-filled cup and proposed a toast: “To our rescuer, Dr. Maximillian Zadok!”
“Hear, hear! To Max!”
“To Dr. Zadok!”
“To my hero!”
“Oh, no, no, really.” Max beamed. “Just doing my duty.”
“I was there, too,” Lysander reminded us. “Fighting Evil. As is my duty, too.”
Our sudden reappearance at the Magic Cabaret had been greeted by a standing ovation from the audience, who thought we were enacting the greatest, if strangest, disappearing-and-reappearing act they’d ever seen; and by cheers, hugs and tears from our friends, who had all arrived at the cabaret by the time we returned there. The translocation had left us sprawled messily all over the stage (such as it was), and Alice’s nerves were so frazzled that it had taken Goudini considerable effort to get her under control and into a dressing room.
“One thing I don’t understand,” I said to Max as we sat chatting at one of the little cabaret tables. “Why was your translocation to the underground chamber so different from Lysander’s? And mine?”
“Ah!” Max nodded, took a sip of his beer and said, “Lysander arrived there via the conduit, which was gradually weakening, but still engaged enough for one of us to follow you. We knew it was our only hope of finding you and Dixie. We also knew that it could well become a trap, so we mustn’t both go that way.”
Lysander, sitting in the other chair at our table, said, “After your precipitate pursuit of Dixie, Esther, which I can’t say I think was the wisest course of action—”
“You’re going back to Altoona in the morning, right?” I said.
His brows lifted. “Yes.”
“Just making sure.”
Lysander continued. “After you disappeared, I felt it would be best if I, rather than Max, followed you.”
“That was very brave of you,” I said, trying to be nice, “knowing that you might well wind up in Phil’s trap.”
“Well, I am younger and fitter than Max,” Lysander said, “and I do have considerable experience of danger.”
Deciding that Lysander had talked enough, I said, “But, Max, how did you find us?”
“Before he left,” Max said, “Lysander and I engaged a spell that would enable me to follow and find him. Anywhere.”
“Sort of a mystical tracking device?”
“You might say that,” Max said.
“If you wanted to oversimplify it,” Lysander said.
Max said to me, “So Lysander followed you to the chamber. And I tracked his trail.”
“But you cut it rather close,” Lysander said. “What took you so long?”
“I hadn’t realized I’d have to transmute about eighty feet or so straight down after I translocated across the city.”
“Ah! Of course.”
“And I want you to know,” Max said kindly to him, “I don’t hold you in any way responsible.”
Lysander frowned. “For what?”
“For sending me an assistant who wanted to take over New York with the help of a virgin-raping, mundane-eating demon.”
Lysander stiffened. “I am not ‘in any way responsible’ for that!”
“You did authorize the assignment,” I reminded him.
“Well, I—I—” Lysander cleared his throat. “The decision was made at headquarters. All I did was sign the standard paperwork.”
“And I’ll keep that in mind,” Max said sweetly, “when I file my formal complaint about the assistant whom I received in response to my request for, er, help here.”
Lysander scowled and, for once, seemed to have nothing to say. After a moment, he muttered something about wanting to get a refill on his drink, and he fled our table.
“I shouldn’t have teased him like that,” Max said, looking a little guilty. “He’s really quite a good fellow, you know.”
“In his way, I suppose,” I admitted. “But he could use a little teasing, Max.”
He nodded, and we clinked our plastic cups together in agreement.
“Max! Maximillian, come over here and let me pour you another!” Duke cried.
He waved a beer bottle at us. We rose from our table and joined him. Thrilled to have his daughter and his dear Dolly back safe and sound, a tearful Cowboy Duke had decided to buy drinks for the whole house. Several times in a row. People were getting a trifle tipsy.
Clarisse Staunton, looking a little the worse for wear by now, had had a happy reunion with Barclay—who was hav
ing an even happier one with Dixie. They made a cute couple, holding hands and beaming with delight whenever their eyes met.
“But that Hieronymus seemed so nice when I talked with him yesterday in the cellar at the bookshop!” Dixie said, shaking her head. “Who knew he’d turn out to be an evil creep trying to summon a demon? I mean, when we talked, he seemed like such a good listener. He really encouraged me to…” Her eyes flew wide open and she gasped.
“To do what, honey?” Duke asked, his arm firmly around Dolly.
“To do the act with Barclay tonight!”
Barclay said, “Oh, so that was how he knew about tonight’s performance.”
“And that was when he formulated his plan,” I said. “Delilah was right, Hieronymus must have known his time was running out. He was getting desperate. And he thought he had a second shot at getting his victim via Barclay—through tonight’s performance! He obviously thought Dixie was a vir…Um. Go on, Dixie, you tell the story.”
She nodded. “I told Hieronymus about our plans when we were talking. And I said we naturally wouldn’t do the disappearing act. He agreed that was wise, and he said lots of nice things about how good it was of me to help a friend and how he wished we could solve the case before the show so that Barclay and I could do the whole act. And I said, gosh, I sure wished for that, too, because Barclay felt so bad about Clarisse, and Daddy missed Dolly so much.”
“So when Hieronymus called you today,” I said, “and told you the case was solved and it was safe to do the disappearing act…”
“It never occurred to me I couldn’t trust him! He was Dr. Zadok’s assistant, after all! And he’d been so nice to me!”
“And then he hexed our cell phones,” Duke said, “to make sure no one else could get in touch with us.”
“Even with Max giving us the green light—as we thought—we were nervous the first time we rehearsed the disappearing act,” Barclay said. “But it went smooth as silk, so we had no worries after that.”
“The conduit was never engaged in rehearsal,” I said. “Only in performance. Only when energy, concentration and focus were at their peak.”
A little while later, I found Max blushing under Delilah’s grateful hugs and kisses as she thanked him profusely (again) for returning her dear Samson to her. Samson apparently hadn’t been as chilly as I’d supposed, since he was still wearing nothing but his gold lamé G-string. Since the “girls” had left the Pony Expressive in the middle of the performance to come here and help if needed, they were all dressed for work. Whoopsy was as scantily clad as Samson, Khyber looked like a harem boy, and Satsy was in glorious purple drag.
Joe Herlihy had been so relieved to see Golly Gee alive, he’d embraced her. After that, though, it took only a few minutes for them to remember how much they disliked each other, and they were soon sitting at separate tables.
I sat down with Joe now and said, “Hey, we can get the show up and running again!”
“Once the crystal cage is ready.”
“I’ll talk to Magnus,” I said, “and he’ll have it ready soon.”
“You believed the cage might be dangerous, too, didn’t you?”
“The thought crossed my mind,” I said.
He hesitated. “Esther, did you and your friend Max…Um, wait no. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
I watched Golly flirting with Goudini and sighed. “I guess I’m back in the chorus.”
“It’s a shame.” When I looked at him in surprise, Joe said, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m very, very glad I didn’t inadvertently kill Golly, which is what I was terrified might have happened. But you’re a lot better as Virtue, Esther. I wish you had the role.” He sighed and shook his head. “But Matilda wanted a young pop star for the leading lady.”
“Life upon the wicked stage,” I said. “Oh, well. My turn will come.”
“Yes, it will.”
To my surprise, I found I kind of liked Joe. When the pressure was off, he was just a nice, ordinary fellow, instead of a basket-case magician.
Suddenly Whoopsy rose to his feet, looking anxious. “Fuzz!”
My heart skipped a beat as my eyes were drawn to the entrance of the cabaret. Lopez flashed his shield at the Goth girl trying to block his entrance. He was in his working clothes: a gray suit, white shirt and dark blue tie. As he put his badge away, his suitcoat flapped open for a moment and I saw his holster and gun.
He scanned the room. He frowned when he saw Max, and his brows lifted as he studied the interestingly clothed (and unclothed) performers in our festive group. Then he saw me. He went still as our gazes locked.
He looked tired, puzzled, a little worried…and God, he looked good to me. If Avolapek had escaped, he might have eaten Lopez, I suddenly realized. I was so glad that hadn’t happened.
Lopez’s gaze traveled over me as he approached the table where I sat with Joe. I realized for the first time what I must look like after fighting with a demented adept, being manhandled by a demon, nearly getting immolated, being drenched with water of highly questionable origin and translocating twice in one night. We stared at each other.
Then he said, with obvious concern, “Are you okay?”
“I am now.” I smiled at him. “How’d you find this place?”
“It was a little harder than I expected—how do their customers find them, I wonder?” He shrugged. “But I’m a cop, I’m good at finding things.”
“I’m glad you came.”
As Khyber walked behind Lopez, probably in search of more beverages, he gave me a thumbs-up sign and mouthed, He’s hot.
“When I got here, there was a nice van, abandoned in the middle of the street, being towed away,” Lopez said to me. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”
“Oops.” I’d have to tell Barclay. Meanwhile, I should change the subject. “Are you off duty yet?”
He looked around with a skeptical expression. “I’m not sure.” He froze. “Is that Golly Gee?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. And over there—that’s Clarisse Staunton.”
He gave me a sharp glance. “They’re back?”
“Yes.”
“Where were they?”
“You can ask them,” I said. “But you won’t understand the answers.”
“Where’s Hieronymus?”
“Hieron…” I frowned. “Um…”
“When I got back to the house a little while ago, I found two messages from you. Both kind of garbled. Apparently you wanted me to come here and…” Lopez spread his hands and shrugged again. “And stop a really bad disappearing act that was about to be performed by someone named Hieronymus? Whose stage name is Phil Hohenheim?”
I looked down at my drink. “Oh, he never showed up.”
“Where is he?”
I shrugged. “Who knows?”
He sighed. “I was told you sounded frantic when you left those messages. There was also something about a kidnapping, and—”
“Oh, ignore all that. I’d had way too much coffee,” I said.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Everything’s back to normal now,” I assured him.
“I am so afraid to ask you what that means.” He glanced around the room. “That woman over there. Is that Dorothy Mertz?”
“Who?”
“Uh, Dolly the Dancing Cowgirl.”
“Yes.” So he had continued looking into the case today. A man of his word, I thought, liking the way he looked even when he was tired and a little exasperated with me. I added, “And Sexy Samson has come home, too.” I touched Lopez’s sleeve. “Everything really is back to normal. You can drop the case.”
He eyed Joe. “What about you?”
Joe appeared nervous again. Well, cops had that effect on some people. From several tables away, Whoopsy was still watching Lopez the way a monkey would watch a snake. “Me?” Joe bleated.
“Mrs. Herlihy accused Miss Diamond of vandalizing the crystal cage,” Lopez reminded
him. “She also complained about Dr. Zadok harassing you.”
“Oh, that? Those were just a couple of silly misunderstandings, Detective. It’s all water under the bridge now.”
“You’re not going to press charges?”
“No,” Joe said firmly. “We’re not. Definitely not.”
Lopez met my eyes again. I said, “We’re hoping to get the show up and running again in a few days. You wanted to come see it?”
Joe said, “Hey, I’ll get you a couple of complimentary tickets, Detective! No problem!”
Still holding my gaze, Lopez said, “Thanks, Mr. Herlihy. But I’ll only need one ticket. I’m not bringing a date.”
“Detective Lopez!” Max joined us, smiling broadly. “What a pleasant surprise!”
“You seem to be celebrating something,” Lopez commented, as I rose from my seat and used a napkin to wipe some of Delilah’s lipstick off Max’s cheek.
“Yes! We have tracked Evil to its lair,” Max burbled, “confronted it there and triumphed! Would you like a cocktail?”
“No, thank you.”
“A sober young man,” Max said to me, beaming with approval. “And polite.”
Lopez asked, “Why do half of you look as if you’ve just come through a siege?”
“Ah! There you are!” Goudini shouted, seeing his tiger’s trainer at the door. “Come on! I’ll show you where we’ve locked up Alice!”
Lopez stiffened. “Now you’ve locked someone up? Esther—”
“Oh, it’s just the tiger,” said Max.
“You’ve got a tiger with you?”
“The poor thing was so frantic,” Max said. “First the hunger, then the demon, then the fire, then the water, then the translocation…Well! You can imagine what an ordeal it all was for her.”
“Strangely,” Lopez said, “I almost can.” He looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
“I want a cocktail,” I said.
“Esther was the heroine of the evening,” Max continued, and I realized from the reckless glitter in his eyes that he’d been imbibing rather freely. “I am told she even broke through the invisible barrier to beat the stuffing out of Hieronymus, with scarcely a thought for her own safety.”
Disappearing Nightly Page 28