The Illusionist - 3rd Edition

by Fran Heckrotte

  Within seconds, the mist vanished along with the soul. The area surrounding the victim remained clear so the audience had full view of everything that was happening. The demon continued capturing angel and demon souls until few were left. Suddenly from above, a figure appeared, dressed in a white and gold body suit. Large feathered wings flapped slowly, lowering the archangel to the stage floor.

  Her face was hidden behind an iridescent golden mask. Golden hair, almost waist length, flowed around her shoulders, breasts, and back. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed when she pointed her right hand at the demon. With a slight flick of her wrist, bluish flames burst upward from the stage floor and surrounded the Illusionist, concealing the lower half of her body. Writhing in agony, she screamed so realistically the audience shuddered, unsure of what was real or pretend. The archangel raised both arms toward the heavens, crossed them at the wrists, and bowed her head.

  The demon threw orange balls of flame at her foe, but they merely disintegrated on some invisible barrier. Two puffs of grayish white smoke bellowed around her and the demon. A demoniacal howl broke the stillness. Within seconds, the smoke cleared. The demon was gone.

  The crowd gasped, their eyes locked on the spot where the Illusionist had been standing. It wasn't until the archangel turned to look at the audience that the members became aware the golden-haired woman had also disappeared.

  In her place, dressed in the outfit of the angel stood Yemaya. Soon, the stage was filled with the lost souls and angels that had been vanquished. Clapping and cheering wildly, the audience members rose to their feet, impressed and yet unable to explain what they had just seen.

  Two assistants approached Yemaya and removed the wings attached to her back. The harness was a complicated system of belts and buckles and cables, concealed by feathers. The process took several minutes, adding to the audience's awareness of the difficulty involved in putting on the costume. It was impossible to slip into the outfit during the seconds she was hidden by the smoke.

  Once free of the gear, Yemaya walked to the edge of the stage and bowed. It took another five minutes before the crowd settled down enough for her to be heard.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, once again, I thank you for honoring me with your presence. My assistants and I are always inspired by your appreciation and enthusiasm. In today's world, many no longer believe in magic or the power of illusions. We are so caught up in work or politics or personal problems, we do not stop to enjoy the miraculous things around us. I hope tonight I have inspired you to rethink your lives and remember those joys and mysteries."

  "Tonight was my last performance this year. I am returning to my homeland to be with my family. Until we meet again, may all of you enjoy happiness and peace in your lives. Thank you."

  Walking toward the side stage, she stopped to look at Dakota, who had been as mesmerized by the show as everyone else. Realizing Yemaya was looking at her, Dakota gave a thumbs-up and smiled radiantly. Yemaya felt her heart skip a beat and returned the smile continuing toward the backstage. Suddenly the fine hair on her arms and neck raised as if disturbed by static electricity. Stopping, she turned again to the audience, pretending to give them a final wave. Her eyes narrowed ominously as they scanned the crowd, looking for the source of her unease. Eventually, her gaze locked on a small, balding man sitting in an aisle seat near the back row. Yemaya sensed his unnatural interest in Dakota. She would remember him.

  * * *

  Dakota knew immediately that something was wrong. Turning her head, she stared into the darkness trying to see what had attracted Yemaya's attention. Unfortunately, the lights were still dimmed making it too shadowy for her to make out anything but shapes. She was about to turn back toward Yemaya when she noticed a person moving quickly up the stairs to an exit. When he walked through the brightly lit opening, Dakota frowned. He was the same man who had taken the pictures at the Charleston show. With a sense of foreboding, she stood and hurried toward the stage's side entrance. It was important that she talk to Yemaya about this man's attempts to photograph her during her previous performance.

  * * *

  Eddy Jones waited patiently for the show to begin. Other than his attendance at the Charleston Aquarium, he had never seen a magic show. The Illusionist's demon costume was magnificent and the way it clung to her lithe body, impressive. Interestingly, he had no sexual interest in the woman. As a photographer, Eddy appreciated beauty. Yemaya Lysanne was beauty personified.

  The first time she hesitated on stage, he didn't think anything of it. The Illusionist always took a few minutes to survey her audiences. When her show ended and she stopped again to stare into the same area as before, he was curious about who had caught her attention. He could see the back of the woman's head but nothing else. Then the Illusionist looked in his direction causing the other woman to turn also.

  "Shit," he muttered. "It's her. Chisholm isn't going to like this." A slight pain in his chest brought back the memories of the panic attacks he used to feel when he was younger.

  I'm getting too old for this, he thought and decided to leave.

  Hurrying up the aisle, he missed the cold gaze locked on his back as he dashed through the open door. Sweat poured down Eddy's face as he hailed a taxi to take him back to his hotel. He would have to think of something. If Chisholm guessed he'd lied, he was as dead as the woman in the subway.

  * * *

  Dakota caught up with Yemaya in her dressing room.

  "What was that about?" she asked.

  "What was what about?" Yemaya responded evasively.

  "That man you were looking at. Who was he?"

  "I have no idea. Probably just a fan," she replied nonchalantly in an effort to drop the subject.

  "Maybe," Dakota said. "But, something about him isn't right. I noticed him at your Charleston show. He was taking pictures."

  "Really? Everyone was screened for electronic equipment," Yemaya said, puzzled.

  "Yeah, I know. I thought it was strange but figured he had just gotten special permission or something."

  "No one gets special permission. No cameras means no cameras. Are you sure it was him?"

  "Positive. Same size, same features, and balding. There's something about him I don't like."

  "Well, I will have him checked out. It should be simple to do since I know his seat number."

  "How could you see where he was sitting? It was way too dark for me until he walked through the door."

  "I have excellent night vision. Good genes, I guess," Yemaya explained, unwilling to continue the discussion along more personal lines.

  "Uh-huh. I see you're still closed-mouth about things that pertain to you." Dakota pouted, looking pitiful.

  Laughing, Yemaya stood and gave the woman a warm hug.

  "Pouting does not suit you. Maybe I can make it up to you later. How much more personal can I get bringing you to my home?"

  "Well... there's personal... then there's personal," Dakota said, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

  "Yes," Yemaya said, her voice low and seductive. "There most certainly is. Which do you prefer?"

  Blushing, Dakota focused on the midriff of the woman just inches away from her.

  "Um... well... um… hey! Isn't it about time we got a move on it? Chartering a jet can't be cheap, and I bet they charge by the hour."

  "Nice parry, Dakota. We will postpone this conversation for another time," she warned. "Shall we go? As you say, time is money."

  Gathering up their luggage, they left for the airport, both relieved at not having to pursue the conversation but feeling a little disappointed that some questions hadn't been answered.

  * * *

  Three days later, Eddy was standing in front of Robert Chisholm giving him an update on his investigation.

  "That's right, Mr. Chisholm. Lysanne chartered a flight to her homeland the same night of the performance. She was accompanied by a young woman named Dakota Devereaux."

  "And exactly who is Dakota Devereaux?"r />
  Smiling smugly, Eddy handed him a file.

  "Jones, I don't have time to read your damn report. Just answer me."

  "She's an employee of yours."

  "Of mine? She works for me?"

  "Well, not exactly. She works for a magazine you own. She's doing research on illusionists. Apparently, Lysanne was one of her subjects. Somehow, Devereaux caught her attention, and Lysanne must've offered her a visit to her homeland."

  "Interesting. So by now they're in Moldova?"

  "Yes, sir. My sources say they arrived early Saturday. At least their flight landed in Cahul."

  "You have contacts in Moldova?" Chisholm asked, surprised.

  I'm not as incompetent as you think, Eddy thought.

  "A few. I met some people from there when I was in Romania ten years ago. They needed help at the time, and I was more idealistic then. I made good money as a photographer, so I helped them get home and set them up in a small business. They owed me a favor, so I called it in. I can tell you this, though. That family has a lot of influence in Moldova."

  "Family?"

  "She has a brother. They are powerful people in their country and have a very loyal following. It's hard to find anyone willing to talk about them."

  Impressed by Jones' initiative, Chisholm reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. Withdrawing five one hundred dollar bills, he handed to his employee.

  "Good work, Jones. I like your initiative. Now I want you to go over there with a few of my men and see what you can find out about her and her family."

  "Mr. Chisholm, it's going to take time to get the required visas. It's not an easy country to get into."

  "You'd be surprised how easy things become with the right amount of money. Be ready to leave in two days. Now here's the information on who will be accompanying you."

  "I'll be ready," Eddy promised.

  "Good. And, Jones, don't come back if you can't do this," Chisholm warned. "You'll have no future here or anywhere. Now get out."

  Eddy Jones nodded and swallowed. He had no doubt that Chisholm would follow through on his threat. Robert Chisholm was fixated on the Illusionist, and nothing was going to prevent him from having her.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE PLANE LANDED in Moldova mid-morning. A chauffeur in a black Hummer was waiting at the airport to drive them to Yemaya's estate in Taraclia. The trip would take several hours traveling through the mountainous terrain. The estate was well secluded. First, however, Yemaya needed to pay her respects to some acquaintances in Cahul. A luncheon had been arranged for her and her guest.

  Although Yemaya wasn't interested in meeting with the president of Moldova, manners dictated she at least attend the function. Her people, the Carpi, had a special arrangement with the political parties of the country. Carpi normally stayed out of politics. Gratefully, the government left them alone. With the Lysannes power and influence, they could easily choose who would run the country. They preferred not to.

  The luncheon lasted several hours. After learning Dakota was a journalist, everyone wanted to gain her favor. Amused, Yemaya sat back and silently watched the men and women vying for the young woman's attention. Dakota was less than thrilled. Finally, Yemaya decided to come to her rescue.

  "Mr. President, Madame, I am afraid we have a long journey ahead of us, and I am anxious to get home by sunset. You understand how treacherous the roads are after dark."

  "Yes, of course, Ms. Lysanne. Forgive our rudeness. It was a pleasure to see you again and to have met your beautiful young guest."

  "It was my honor, Mr. President," Dakota interrupted, not liking how the man was talking around her. President or not, she wasn't invisible.

  * * *

  Back in the Hummer, Yemaya ordered her chauffeur to take them home.

  Dakota was exhausted. Eventually, the warmth of the car and the long flight took its toll. Drifting off into a quiet slumber, her head slid sideways until it rested against Yemaya's shoulder.

  The sun slipped behind the mountains, its golden rays turning orange as it disappeared. Long shadows stretched across the road. Gusts of wind moved tree limbs, making the shadows dance back and forth. The howl of a wolf woke Dakota from a strange dream about ghosts and vampires. Shivering, she became aware of the soft shoulder beneath her cheek.

  "Are you cold?" Yemaya asked, feeling the shiver.

  "No, just a strange dream." Dakota straightened up and yawned.

  "It is the mountains. They bring out people's fears, especially if you are not from this land."

  "And if you are?"

  "Then you know what is real and what is only imagination… hopefully," Yemaya replied solemnly.

  "Are there things to fear here?"

  "There are things to fear everywhere, Dakota. And to answer your question, yes, even here. We have our own demons. Most are two-legged, but occasionally, a few take other forms."

  Dakota shivered again. She didn't consider herself superstitious. Still, Yemaya's comments seemed to hold a warning.

  "Is there anything you are afraid of around here?" Dakota asked uneasily.

  Yemaya stared out the window for several minutes. Finally, she turned back to Dakota.

  "There are things. My people occasionally speak about creatures of unspeakable evil. You will probably hear a few. Superstitions are hard to eliminate."

  "Your people? You make it sound like you're different from everyone else."

  "We are." Yemaya grinned. "So be forewarned," she joked, nudging Dakota in the ribs. "After all, I did say you barely know me."

  "That's true. Anything in particular I should be forewarned about?"

  Putting the fingertips of her right hand against her cheek in a mock thinking pose, Yemaya looked at the ceiling of the Hummer.

  "Hmm... let me think. Do I want to scare you on your first day or take advantage of your innocence later?" she mused before looking at Dakota.

  Dakota could have sworn Yemaya's eyes held an unnatural gleam, almost predatory.

  "Do I get to choose?" Dakota asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

  "You always have choices, Dakota. Which one would you choose?"

  "Truthfully, you taking advantage of my innocence sounds more interesting, but I think, for now, I'll settle for some of your scary stories. Do you have any I may have heard when I was growing up? This is werewolf country, isn't it?" she teased.

  "Not really. That is the other side of the mountains," Yemaya countered. "I suppose the most well-known legend here is Count Dracula."

  "I thought he was from Transylvania. You're not from there, are you?"

  "Not really. But close enough."

  "Was he really a vampire?"

  Shrugging, Yemaya again looked out the window, pale eyes scanning the shadows.

  "No, just a madman."

  "Are there such things?" Dakota asked and then mentally chastised herself. Of course, there aren't, stupid.

  "Who can say? The word has been around a long time."

  "Well, I'd hate to think they existed. The last thing I need is running into something creepy."

  "I would not be too anxious to meet one myself," Yemaya replied seriously. "There are too many other things to fear without adding them to the list."

  "I suppose so," Dakota agreed. "How long before we arrive?"

  "Two minutes." Leaning across Dakota, Yemaya pointed out the window. Dakota caught her breath as the other woman's breasts brushed against her. For a moment, ice blue eyes stared warmly into hers, causing her to blush, then Yemaya winked, ducked her head slightly, and nodded toward the horizon.

  Dakota saw a large stone structure rising from the ground. Turrets on both sides and a huge drawbridge spanning a narrow river gave her the impression of an old English castle. Because the night air cooled rapidly, a mist rose from the warmer waters of the river, giving it an almost haunted look.

  "Wow! You never said you lived in a castle!" Dakota exclaimed, awestruck.

  "I would not exactl
y call it a castle. More an unusually shaped stone house. It has been in my family for over six hundred years."

  "It's a castle to me."

  "Perhaps I am just used to it. If you wish to call it a castle, then it is a castle. Andrei, please stop the car on this side of the bridge. Ms. Devereaux and I will walk the rest of the way."