Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Simone stiffened at the words and tossed the man suckling her breast away. She bent down giving a snarl, forgetting her half-dressed state. Janice drew back, frightened by the vehement glitter in her eyes. The iron grate above her rattled on it hinges as Simone shook it fiercely.

  “I was going to kill you fast, Izzy. But now I think I’ll do it trés lentement. Very, very slowly.”

  Janice heard the murderous edge to Simone’s voice as she stood up and signaled to her companion. A knot of sheer terror ripped through Janice. Lisette knew what was coming, while, she Janice, was living through it for the first time. She looked beyond the holes to the bright sky. Mother of Mercy, if there is a God, please help me. I don’t want to die. Janice’s eyes found Simone again. She was hauling her evening dress up, hiding her nakedness. Once more, Janice saw her signal to the man beside her.

  “Seal the grate. Slide the trapdoor.”

  Janice’s body went rigid and for a moment she thought she had stopped breathing. Above her head, the trapdoor clanged shut and a cold darkness enveloped the space. The air stilled and a wave of grayness washed over Janice, over Lisette. Death was coming. Janice threw back her head, her own scream echoing Lisette’s guttural cry of terror.

  As if cued, Janice felt the roaring of blood in her ears and thousands of electric jolts jagged through her. She was slipping again. One day, two days. Janice felt herself coughing. Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, jumbled, nonsensical. Hungry, so hungry. Three days. Four days. Somebody please find me! Five days. Empty limbs, cold numbness, smell of low tide and crawling things. Oh, God, please stop the smell of crawling things!

  Janice’s prayer mingled with Lisette’s. Please release my mind. I can’t die like this. Please don’t let me die like this. Dying was glorious peace. Anna said so. No pain, no fear. Give up. No use. Janice felt her mind connect again to Lisette’s despair. No use. Janice’s eyes flickered upward. Trapdoor sealed.

  Her eyes fluttered down again. Her mind began to float and drift aimlessly. Is this all there is to dying? Janice wondered. It is a great ache, an ache that crosses great distances but finds no relief. Is there no merciful God to take pity?

  A loud click sounded and the trapdoor over Janice’s head lifted. Janice’s eyes shot open. The iron bars were gone, a dazzling white light spiraling outward in its place. Janice dragged a weary hand to shade her eyes from the overpowering glare.

  “Give me your hand, Izzy. I am here.” The voice was deep, caring. It called softly again. “Je suis ici.”

  Janice dropped her hands and stared into the white light. She saw it more clearly without a glare. It had a vague, male human shape, a vague human hand reaching out. Janice reached out for the hand and felt her mind pulled back at once. In her head, a voice urged pleasantly.

  “Non, Janice Kelly. You cannot travel this path with me. You must stay behind. And sleep. Fear not, your sleep will be an instant, no more.”

  Janice felt her whole body engulfed in tides of weariness and tried to arouse herself from the numbness weighing her down. She wanted to touch Lisette, ask her questions, see Aubert. Janice’s eyes fluttered down, then up. A second white light floated beyond the crawlspace, a vague feminine shape alongside its companion.

  “Merci. I thank you, Janice, for thy compassion.”

  Janice felt a curious wetness stinging her eyes at the pronouncement. Lisette was going away, leaving her without a glimpse of her face for the first and only time.

  “Our souls will meet once more beyond.” The shape shimmered as if gesturing. “I shall call you friend and you will know me. Now, sleep and fret not, your body will come to no harm. I will use it a brief instant and be gone.”

  “And Adrian?” Janice felt as hollow as her voice sounded.

  “Like you, he is safe. Now, sleep.”

  Janice felt her eyelids flutter downward as if touched by feathery wings. Unable to argue, she let her mind go. Sleep came in a waft of sweet raspberry perfume.

  Chapter 24

  TIME SLIP

  “Why are you crying, mon amie? Are you in pain?”

  “Non. I cry in joy for I thought never to see you through human eyes again.”

  “Nor I you. For three centuries, I hungered to feel the breathless wonder of your kiss. Two lifetimes on the earth plane I sought you out. I called for you, but you did not respond.”

  “I heard you, but could not respond. The darkness held me imprisoned, but now there is only light. There is passion in your kiss, mon ami, and our tongues dance together in silent melody.”

  “The man’s face pleases you?”

  “Certainment. On the earth plane, he is trés handsome. Is the woman’s face pleasing to you?”

  “Oui. She bears a striking resemblance to you, when you were human.”

  “She gives herself to the man with sweet abandon.”

  “Oui. The man’s body does fit her well. Even now, fire bolts of desire arc through him.”

  “Yet he fought against you taking him.”

  “His will is strong. He worries the woman will not catch fire from his flame.”

  “Yet she welcomes him into her body gladly.”

  “The man loves the woman. If he did not, nothing would have compelled me to answer your summons. But fret not, he will remember nothing.”

  “You will cloud his dreams?”

  “He will have no pain except for that which his own mind makes.”

  “Trés bien. And now, we must away. The woman’s body is stressed. She cannot longer endure the two of us as one. I must away.”

  “I do miss you already, Izzy.”

  “Your pain will be only for a moment, mon cher. Fear not, you will see me again on some distant plateau.”

  “Oui. And I will take your hand again. Your heart will be my heart.”

  “It has always been so. So it shall be again.”

  “May the Supreme Light guide you to a safe haven, Izzy. Though you do not see me, I will always be beside you. Now, come kiss me. One final kiss to last perhaps an eternity.”

  “I love you, Aubert. Skin to skin, we are one.”

  Chapter 25

  SATURDAY — 5:30 AM

  Janice heard a drumbeat throbbing loudly in her ears. Why didn’t Bibi turn down the stereo? She couldn’t sleep with that steady racket going on. No one could. The sound grew louder and Janice gave an exasperated sigh. She’d have to turn down the volume herself or she’d be deaf before morning. She forced her eyelids up, then sighed as they closed again. Good heavens, she felt drained and hollow and lifeless. And her back ached between her shoulder blades. She had to throw off this lethargy. Her eyelids flickered again and this time stayed up. The drumbeat was still hammering unbelievably loud. What the hell was that noise?

  Suddenly, it hit her. She was hearing a heartbeat. Was she lying on someone’s chest? She blinked her eyes rapidly and felt a light tickle of hair along her eyelashes. Tiny tufts of black hair swam into her vision. Adrian! She was lying on Adrian’s naked chest! She craned her head and studied the stubbled chin inches from her face. He was sleeping, dead to the world — more handsome in sleep than when awake. She gave his face and forehead a once over, spotting a knotted lump along his right temple. She winced uncomfortably. If Adrian thought he had a headache before, wait till he woke with this one. Absently, she made a move to brush the swollen area and cried out as a white-hot pain seared up her forearm.

  Rolling over on her back with a jerk, Janice clutched her right wrist, giving another yelp as the pain doubled its intensity. She tore her fingers away and brought her arm up in front of her face, choking back a gasp when she spied the mottled flesh. Good heavens, her wrist was three times its normal size. Broken! How had that happened? Understanding dawned at once and she swung her gaze to Adrian’s forehead. She broke her wrist in the fall the way Adr
ian’s knotted lump had appeared from the crack of his head against the atrium floor. But they weren’t in the atrium garden any longer.

  Janice looked up, trying to get her bearings. They were in a bed with white sails. White sails! The words sent an unexpected, icy chill slicing down her spine. Now, why should thinking of sails bother her? Lifting her head, she studied her surroundings more closely. Draperies, a table edged in a red glow, a small musical birdcage. Her brain skidded to a halt. How in the hell had they gotten from the atrium garden into the solarium and onto the bed that was part of Adrian’s set pieces?

  Janice thrust the question away. She didn’t want to know. The thought was too disturbing since all she could envision at the moment was herself and Adrian transformed into some flesh-eating zombies roaming the chateau with no will of their own. She brought her glance back to her throbbing wrist and cupped it gently. Her wrist needed attention. But how to get it? she wondered.

  Her gaze sailed away to the solarium windows still drenched in red. Nope, scrap that option. A doctor’s help was out. They were still prisoners. She’d have to make do, tolerate the pain. That is if she could stop shivering long enough to think coherently. Why was she so blasted cold? She glanced down at her chest and gasped. She was stark naked, her breasts and stomach caked in goose bumps. Where in the hell were her clothes? Had Adrian taken them?

  Her head whipped around, catching sight of lean muscled buttocks and thighs and she choked back a groan. They had made love, she was sure of it. Why else would their clothes be missing and her skin still tingling as if thoroughly caressed?

  Shaken, Janice slid to the edge of the bed, peered over it and spotted a speck of blue peeping from the hem of the silken sheets. With a hasty swipe, she gathered it up with her good hand then searched the floor for her missing bra.

  “Great.” she muttered, a second later. Her bra was nowhere in sight. Swinging upright, Janice tossed the sweater over her head. She needed to get warm fast. Her teeth were beginning to chatter from the chill hanging in the room. Carefully, she babied her sore wrist through one sleeve. This was unbelievable. She had just made love to a man and couldn’t remember one second of doing it. Her good hand slipped through the remaining sleeve easily and she pulled the fluffy material down and around her torso. How had she sunk so low? How could she have let Adrian make love to her when she knew he was adamantly against it? How could she have let him touch her in the most intimate of ways?

  A sputtered moan broke her reverie and Janice felt the bed jiggle beneath her buttocks. Swiftly, she sprang from the bed and swung about. Adrian was stirring, finally coming out of his imposed exile. The thought of him waking and spotting her hovering over his nude body sent a wave of panic through her. He would say something spiteful, she knew. He might even make a cruel joke about what had happened between them. She couldn’t bear that. Not when she didn’t know what kind of lover he had been or how responsive she had been to him. She had to get out of the solarium before he wakened fully. Where in the hell were her slacks and underpants? God, why wouldn’t her wrist stop aching?

  Diving around the edge of the bed, Janice searched the floor, relieved when she spotted another flash of blue. From the top of the bed, a second muttered groan shattered the air. Diving for her slacks, she scooped them up and returned to the empty side of the bed. She had to find her underpants. Her gaze raked the sheets, finally spotting a flash of white lace peeping from beneath Adrian’s stomach. Could she extricate her panties without his feeling it? No, not without the use of both her hands. She’d have to abandon the panties.

  Grimacing, she looked out over the set pieces, her glance falling on the tiny, musical birdcage. It had once made beautiful music, but now sat idle and silent. Suddenly, she felt like the small stuffed creature perched inside. Janice cradled her wrist gently and dropped back on the bed. How long had they been unconscious? Her jumbled thoughts currently held no memory of time. She did have a vague recollection of a handsome face looking down at her, but whether the image belonged to the Baron or Adrian, she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps, when her brain found its natural rhythm again, it would supply the answer to that question. If her arm stopped aching long enough, that is.

  • • •

  The portrait continued its metamorphosis. With each passing second, new images stained the canvas. Watching the transformation, Jasper realized he’d never again doubt the existence of mind over matter — the ability to control substance and its density. It was truly remarkable to stand and watch the marriage of time and space, see how easily the symbiosis could occur. Something out of nothingness. If ever he had doubted the power of the human soul to survive beyond the grave, here was the proof there was life beyond. No living, human entity was projecting the images seeping onto the canvas. The only question left was who was directing the matter? Lisette or the baron?

  Jasper was sure the wailing spirit next to him knew. Otherwise, her keening wail would’ve subsided. It hadn’t. As each feature became sharper, more recognizable, the spirit’s wail became more tormented. He switched his thoughts abruptly. Why did he keep referring to her as “the spirit” when he now knew her human name? Simone Villashay. The name had sliced across his mind the moment the first spots of color saturated the painting in front of them, miraculously restoring his precognition powers in the process. He was himself again and it felt good.

  Concentrating on the portrait, Jasper understood the spirit’s devastation. The striking red-headed woman etched in oil only a few moments ago had vanished completely. In her place stood, not one figure, but two. Jasper had no doubt he was seeing the images of the baron and Lisette as they had once appeared in earthly, human form. The woman coming into view had vivid red hair, too, the only similarity to the image that had vanished. However, the face depicted now was heart-shaped and daintily pointed instead of curved and regal. The body type showcased slender limbs, petite and flower-like, rather than a statuesque figure. Studying the dainty features, Jasper agreed with the baron’s choice. He, too, would have preferred Lisette’s delicate looks to Simone’s sultry, wild demeanor.

  The fusion of color began to subside as quickly as it had come. In seconds, the portrait finished its metamorphosis. With its ending, Jasper’s ears popped under the forceful impact of the spirit’s sudden wrath. The keening wail lost its shrillness, rumbling into a deep gargle as it shifted rapidly from torment to anger. Deep and ferocious anger.

  Immediately, Jasper took a hasty step away from the portrait to avoid what was coming. Over his head, the air stirred and beneath his feet the wooden flooring began to vibrate. He slanted a quick peek at the circle of lights. Once more, the cloud resembled a whirling cyclone, showering the room with crackling static. Muriel’s body was lost to his view through the scrim of lights, and Jasper felt his heart plummet. Every minute Muriel was forced to endure the spirit’s presence, her life force moved further away from his.

  The vibration beneath Jasper’s feet intensified and a lone portrait toppled from the wall. He felt an urgent tug on his forearm and balked, not wanting to leave Muriel so defenseless. In his ear, he heard an urgent growl, a fiercer tug on his arm.

  “Come away, man. You can’t help her. Not at the moment.”

  Jasper’s heart took another nosedive, realizing the truth of Lloyd’s words. To make any hostile gesture toward the cyclone at the moment would surely get Muriel killed. A figurine exploded on the north wall of the room and sprayed the floorboards. A second figurine shattered in its wake. And then a third.

  The circle of lights moved then, startling both men with its agility. Jasper backed up, his senses shifting into high gear. As before, he felt his mind collide with the spirit’s. Only this time, she forced the contact. Once more, Jasper felt a searing fire bolt rip along his forehead. He severed the mind link and took a second step back. As he did so, the chandelier above his head began to shimmy, clank, and jerk. He shied away, his senses now ful
ly alert. She was coming for him, her rage escalating from simmer to a full-blown boil. But why was she striking out at him? It made no sense. He posed no threat to her, not as long as she held Muriel prisoner.

  As she swirled across the floorboards, each small object within her wake came alive, magnetized by her growing energy level. The air filled with flying debris, piano keys, vases, and urns. Like missiles on a specified trajectory path, the objects hurled at Jasper. He ducked, shielding his head, had to duck again and again as the sheared fragments found new life within the whirling cyclone and struck out at him.

  A hurled candlestick struck Lloyd full force and the other man stumbled back under the impact. A howling wind from deep within the cloud’s central core began and Jasper covered his ears in self-defense. The howling inched to a powerful screech.

  Reaching the center of the gallery room, the spirit stopped its advancement as if now that she had gotten their attention she intended to speak. Still, Jasper didn’t lower his defenses or move a muscle. They weren’t out of danger. The spirit’s agitated state was merely a prelude of what was about to happen, and Jasper knew with certainty the spirit had every intention of venting her rage wherever she could. She would use every portion of the room, every nook and cranny as a weapon against them. At last, through the howling wind, she spoke and Jasper’s nose twitched under the familiar odious stench.

  “Do you seek to confuse me?” Her voice was no longer one but many — male, female, hideous in pitch. “I know the woman will not succumb to the man. I see your treachery. I have seen the magician transform matter. He creates what is not there. His illusion is strong but he shall pay for his treachery. And you shall see the woman I hold die before your eyes.”

  Jasper knew the last words were meant for him — to tear his heart still beating from his chest. For a moment, he thought about surrendering, giving into the spirit’s domination and then in the next second, bright images of Muriel’s face flashed across his mind’s eye. One stark, clear word followed. Survive. Intense astonishment touched Jasper’s face. Deep within the circle of lights, some part of Muriel was still alive. Some part begging him to stand firm, no matter the pain.