by Giles Ekins
Charlie sat back down on the sofa, deeply conflicted. What to do? What to do? He desperately wanted, needed, the illusion. He desperately wanted that second chance, or was it the third or fourth or fifth chance? His showman’s instinct told him that the illusion would be a sensation, to actually cut off Selene’s head for it to magically – black magically? - reinstate itself, how, God only knew, or rather Satan only knew. It would set him on the road to Las Vegas, to fame and fortune.
But, and it was a massive but, could he trust the Devil? That was the nub of it all, trusting the Devil. His stomach roiled, nausea threatened and his heart beat frantically, his chest heaved as he held his head in his hands again, trying to sort it all out in his tormented mind. Yes or no? He looked up, seeking answers in the faces of Tchort, of Lilith and Selene, trying to read what lay behind their masks but all he can see is friendliness and concern. He sighs, ‘There doesn’t seem to be much else to say, does there? I mean, I can’t get in any deeper shit than I’m already in, can I?’ rhetorical questions to himself, not expecting any response from Tchort or the others. Another deep sigh, He stands up, having made his decision. ‘Sod it. Let’s do it.’
Tchort softly claps his hands together in congratulation and then comes over to shake Charlie’s hand as Lilith and Selene take up station to either side of hi him, taking his arms in theirs, beaming smiles on their faces. Selene then plants a chaste kiss on his cheek whilst Lilith hugs his arm to her body and Charlie’s doubts anxious doubts ease a little, he feels welcomed, safe, invincible. At home.
‘Good boy Charlie,’ Tchort chortles like an excited schoolboy, ‘you know it makes sense. An heroic decision, audentes fortuna iuvat and all that.’
‘Eh, audience fortunes what? Charlie asks bemused by the Latin tag.
‘Audentes fortuna iuvat, fortune favours the brave, Charlie, fortune favours the brave.’
‘Oh yeah right, fortune favours the brave, I like the sound of that.’
‘Or if you prefer, audere est facere, to dare is to do.’
‘No thanks, fortune favours the brave will do for me.’
‘As you wish,’ and Tchort takes a leather bound notebook from an inside pocket of his jacket, together with a silver Mont Blanc fountain pen, flipping open the pages to reach the one he wants. Charlie’s name, Charles Haydock Chilton, has already been written out in a neat copperplate hand alongside some cabalistic symbols, an inverted pentagram, a baphomet (the symbol of Satan) a blood sacrifice symbol and an udjat, (the all seeing eye of Lucifer) together with a pictogram of a guillotine. Tchort makes some further cryptic marks before putting away the pen. He then reaches out to Charlie and using the long fingernail on the little finger of his right hand, scoops up some of the blood from the bite-wound on his chest, smears it onto the page, takes Charlie’s right hand and presses his thumb print onto the blood.
‘So there we have it, Charlie, the deed is done, alea iacta est, the die is cast and sealed with blood.’ He then gives Charlie a smile, a smile more terrifying than any verbal threat could ever be and the lurking worm in the back of his skull whispers ‘one of us forever, Charlie, one of us forever, forever, forever…forever. … and ever, as his heart races frantically, nausea sweeps over him in a tide and the vampires gnaw at his guts once more as he tries to drag air into his lungs.
‘Charlie, are you all right, you’ve gone awfully pale?’ Selene asks, her voice heavy with concern.
‘Had a bit of a dizzy, but I’ll be OK.’
Selene hurries over to the bathroom and comes back with a cold wet flannel to mop away the cold sweat on his face and then wipes away the blood on his chest with some dampened tissues and then covers the wound with two Band-Aids from the first aid kit on the workbench.
‘There, that’s better isn’t it?’ she says, giving him a radiant smile and patting him on the arm as if he were a little boy who had fallen down in the playground and hurt himself. Somehow, that simple act of kindness seems to banish many of his fears and he relaxes again, after all, what can possibly go wrong? But then a line from the film-‘Zulu,’ one of his all-time favourites comes to mind, Jack Hawkins telling the soldiers that they were all going to die, ‘We have made a covenant with death and with Hell we are in agreement’ and a bone searing chill sweeps over him as the enormity of what he has done strikes, he has just sold his soul to the Devil.
‘So, tell me Charlie, ‘Tchort asks, reading from his notebook, interrupting Charlie’s macabre chain of thought, ‘why Haydock? Charles Haydock Chilton?’
If you know so much, you should know that already, Charlie thinks, but maybe he is just making polite conversation to put me more at ease. ‘My Dad, called Charlie as well, he was a miner, a proud man who lost his job like all the others when the Durham pits closed, fucking Margaret Thatcher and Arthur Scargill between them, they did for the mines…’
‘Anyhow the day I was born, Dad was in the bookies, he was still working then, mind, the pits hadn’t closed in Collierston back then, ironic isn’t it, Collierston,, a collier’s town with no fucking collieries, thanks a bundle Maggie and Arthur,’ Charlie added, his voice resonant with anger and sarcasm, ‘mind you, in a strange way my Dad admired Maggie Thatcher, said she was a strong woman with convictions, aye, she should have convictions all right, convictions for the murder of the mining industry! Anyway , that day, the day I was born, he had a big winner at Haydock Park, so he had enough money to really wet my head and he gave me Haydock as my middle name, sort of memorial, if you will, if that’s the right word. Been dead these many years now, emphysema took him. When he died, that’s when we moved to Durham, see if me Mam could find a job ‘cos there was fuck all left in Collierston,’ he added bitterly.
‘Mmmmm, thank you, I always did wonder. It’s just as well the winner wasn’t at Pontefract or Great Yarmouth races that day, isn’t wouldn’t have quite the same ring would it, Charles Pontefract Chilton?’
‘Yeah, yeah, very droll, very original, you must be only the millionth person to say something like that. Hang on, what do you mean, you always did wonder?’
‘Just a slip of the tongue, think nothing of it,’ Tchort responded smoothly with a reassuring smile.
‘Yeah? Well maybe,’ those voracious little rats gnawing at his gizzard again, very much not re-assured. Charlie sighs and then looks over at the guillotine and then at Selene. ‘Oh well, in for a penny, may as well be in for a pound, seems as though I’m fucked either way.’ ‘Well Selene, darling, it looks as though we’ve got an act to put together. It’s going to take a while to put it all the pieces in place, to work on the presentation. It doesn’t matter how good an illusion is, if it is not presented properly, if it’s not got the theatrical…pizzazz, you know, the effects, lighting the buildup, it’s nothing, it’ll fall flat on its arse.’
She gives him another radiant smile, ‘I am really looking forward to working with you, Charlie, learning from you, learning from a master. I’m sure we will get on fine together, work well together and already I have some ideas for the show.
‘That’s all well and good sweetie, just so long as you remember who’s the boss.’
‘Oh no, Charlie, I assure you, I will never forget that. Never!’
‘Just see as you don’t.’ He turns to Tchort, who has been watching the exchange between Charlie and Selene with some amusement. ‘You mentioned a TV booking, nationwide tour? Startup money?’
‘Indeed. The show is BBC’s ‘Wonderful World of Magic’ which will be recorded for the BBC by ‘Purple Nutmeg Films,’ an independent production company, in early March before a live audience at Granada Studios in Manchester and broadcast in May. So there will plenty of time to perfect the act, to, as you say, get the theatrical pizazz together.’ Charlie nods, the timing was good, Selene would have to be trained but he did not think would be a problem providing she was willing to listen
‘How, how did you manage to get a booking on TV at short notice?’ he asks, ‘I mean it was only …this morning that…I? Or sho
uld I say get a booking at such Tchort notice?’
‘Tchort notice? Oh very good, Charlie, you are certainly quick about your wits today. As to the TV booking, I have contacts, very many contacts in television; after all, it is such an…unholy business, especially the BBC. Now, about the nationwide tour,’ Tchort continued, seemingly back to his urbane self again, the latent menace that Charlie had seen in that chill, deadly smile now gone, only geniality and friendship to be seen. ‘well, that is perhaps an exaggeration, it takes in seventeen cities across the country, you will be second bill to Billy Boy Boston, an American singer who I understand used to be a big hit with…pre-pubescent girls but now plays to ladies of the elder variety. There is another act on the bill, a singer called Alyson Wonder whom I must say I have never heard of.’ I’m not surprised, if you’d never heard of Marlon Brando or ‘The Godfather,’ but come to that I’ve never heard of her either. Come on; come on, what about the money? The money, show me the money.’ ‘It is not the greatest of line-ups, I do agree, but the best that could be done at short notice.’
‘No, you seem to have done wonders, worked miracles.’
‘Miracles? No, we leave those to that other…chap, miracles are simply illusions for the simple minded, I deal in realities. As to the startup funds, let’s say a minimum of… £20,000, that should buy some pizazz, I should think, for costumes, lighting effects, props, etc., how does that sound?’
‘Sounds good to me…but…er…what about repayment?’ Charlie asks hesitantly. ‘that‘s a fair chunk of money to find?’
‘As I have always said, I do offer…deferred terms, you can repay me when you make your mark in Las Vegas. You will also need some other tricks and illusions, good ones, enough to put on a half hour show, maybe a bit longer, when you are on the road.‘ Tchort swept his arm around to encompass the workshop, ‘You can make use of anything that is here.’
‘I…I always liked the Underwater Table of Death, but it’s probably too large to cart around on a tour. I’ll take a walk around, see what’s what but Michaelmas, what’s he going to say about all this, I mean, I can’t just waltz in here and start walking off with all his best tricks?’
‘Ah yes, Mr. Michaelmas Daisy. Michaelmas, has… how shall I put it, decided to go into …permanent retirement.’
‘Michaelmas? Retire? I can’t believe it, this is all that Michaelmas lived for.’
No, Charlie, it was all that Michaelmas died for. ‘I made him an…offer.’
‘You made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,’ Charlie responded in his Godfather voice, ‘No, we, already done that one.’ Behind Tchort, Charlie can see Lilith smiling. And it is not a pleasant smile, she sees him watching and lasciviously flicks her tongue out around her lips and the sudden chills swirl around his bones again, ‘He’s dead. You killed him.’ he exclaimed.
‘Indeed not, he suffered a massive heart attack and was rushed to hospital but, unfortunately was pronounced dead on arrival.’ That is not to say that I did not induce his heart attack when he refused my very reasonable offer. And he was not rushed to hospital; after all why put additional strain on already hard pressed hospital services?
‘Oh! Poor old Michaelmas. A heart attack, you say, well he was getting on a bit…but, you sort of thought he would go on forever.’
‘Indeed, most tragic, but life, as they say must go on.’ Or at least until I say otherwise. ‘As for Las Vegas, ‘Tchort went on as if they had been talking about the weather rather than the death of an old man, ‘the show must be at least one hour long but we can talk about that later, certainly we can consider the Table of Death, but, whatever else you perform Charlie, Madame Guillotine must be the finale. The finale.’
‘Yes, yes of course, understood,’ Charlie mused, ‘but in reality we’re talking a minimum of thirty grand. A tour, a van, Las Vegas and the guillotine illusion and all I have to do is keep quiet about the… origin of the illusion?’
‘You keep the faith, Charlie, that’s all,’ and then he quoted another Latin phrase. ‘Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt’ (men generally believe what they want to believe) You really are so gullible Charlie, such a naïve fool.’
Aye? What’s that mean when it’s at home then?’
Your ignorance Charlie is truly profound. When men believe …all is possible.’
‘Yeah, right. Well, I’m a believer, as the Monkees say. I got no choice now, have I? I’ve got to believe. So just to clarify, I say nothing about the illusion and I make sure that Selene stays a virgin, ‘cos without she’s a virgin, the trick won’t work. Is that it?’
‘Correct, the trick will not work.’ And then I take your soul.
SEVENTEEN
London, Doreen’s apartment, later the same day
Remember Lot’s wife, Charlie, she was turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, you would not suffer such an easy fate should you defy me on this.
‘OH, IT’S YOU CHARLIE,’ Doreen says as she opens the door. ‘You’ve been gone a long time, I was wondering where you had got to.’
‘Just come to get my things, and then I’ll be out of your hair.’
‘Have you got somewhere to stay? she asks, then hurriedly adding, ‘Cos you’re not staying here,’ in case he took her question to be an invite.
‘Aye I’m fixed up at Michaelmas’ place,’ not adding that Michaelmas was dead, probably killed by the Devil
‘At Michaelmas’ place?’
‘Yeah, he’s got an apartment over the workshop; I’ve got the use of it…while I put the new act together.’
‘A new act? Michaelmas has agreed to help you with a new act and to let you stay in his apartment?’ Doreen queried sceptically, sounds fishy to say the least, what with your track record of failure.
‘Well, not Michaelmas exactly, sort of his assistant, like.’
‘His assistant, a female assistant, is that why you’re staying there, Charlie Chilton up to his old tricks again?’ she asked indignantly, angrily, knowing she had no right to that anger, but incensed just the same, without knowing why she was so irate.
‘No, no, this… middle aged guy, Mo, Mo …er Short,’ wisely deciding not to tell her that Tchort was the Devil or to mention Selene and most especially not Lilith, touching his chest to see if the plasters on the bite showed, ‘try explaining that one away. ‘He’s sort of taken over, Michaelmas is …indisposed. Here,’ Charlie said, handing Doreen a bottle in a brown paper bag, ‘Crack that open and we’ll have a drink, OK?’ anxious to divert her from her line of awkward questioning, I mean, how do you explain that you’ve just made a deal with the Devil?
‘Macallan?
‘Yeah, to replace the one we drank last night.’
‘You suddenly come into money?’ Doreen asked suspiciously, ‘because this morning you didn’t even have enough bus fare to get to Michaelmas’s?’
‘It’s an advance, come on, let’s have a drink, celebrate.’
‘An advance, a new act and allowed to stay in Michaelmas’s apartment? You’ll be telling me next he threw in a new van as well.’ Doreen said tartly.
‘Well actually…’
‘No Charlie, this is insane, have you been drinking already, you have, I can smell it on you? Is this a windup, because I’m telling you Charlie, I’m not in the mood for your stupid games.’
‘No, it’s no wind up, honest. I mean, it’s a pukka deal and all that and I do have to pay for it all in the end.’ In truth Charlie was now beginning to feel uncomfortable about his pact with Satan, his own words coming back to stoke up his doubts, ‘But it’s too good to be true and if something looks as if it‘s too good to be true, it’s too good to be true, full stop.’
It had all seemed so clear cut in the workshop, he could find no faults in the deal; keeping quiet about the illusion, well, magicians are notoriously close mouthed and secretive about their tricks and as for Selene remaining a virgin, there was no doubt she was attractive, highly so, but t
here was something distant and intangible about her, an inner… coldness that went beyond a natural reserve, she was an icicle surrounded by flesh and he could see no reason why he would ever try to bed her, probably get frost bite on my dick, So why all the niggley worms of doubt?
Together with Tchort and Selene, Charlie walked around the workshop, looking at all the various illusions and tricks that Michaelmas had assembled over the years. He would make a final choice later but decided to take a Zig-Zag Girl Box, an illusion which was always good to get an audience guessing. He had thought about Mis-made Girl cubes, but in the end decided against it, Selene did not look flexible enough for that, Clarrie could have done so but she had practiced yoga for many years and so achieved the necessary elasticity. Oh, Clarrie, I wish you were with me on this. He declined an offer of the Tiger Cage, Tchort even offering to supply a live tiger, but Charlie did not even like domestic tabbies much, let alone full grown tigers with big teeth, oh what big teeth you’ve got Mr. Stripey Tiger, All the better to eat you with, Charlie. No thank you, I’ve been bitten enough for one day thanks very much. He might take a Sword through the Box trick, but decide exactly which one later, possibly a small version of a Death Drop Cage but definitely a superior Sawing the Lady in Half Trick. Definitely maybe, there was just so much choice.
Lilith van Dante seemed to have vanished as silently as she had appeared, for which Charlie was grateful, but Tchort seemed in no hurry and Selene hardly left his side, asking extremely pertinent questions about some of the illusions, how they worked, what she had to do, how to play her role, Charlie was impressed by her attitude and astuteness but would still prefer to have Clarrie with him, even if she was also ‘off limits.’
Then they came to the guillotine, the infamous guillotine and again Tchort caresses the blood soaked timbers with loving care and Selene gazes in studied rapture at the glistening blade that so neatly removes her head.