by K. J. Young
He’s roused when Dr. Cross shakes him awake. “It’s time,” he says. The rest of the Redevine Society is gathered around the bed, all of them with expectant expressions. The doctor shines a penlight into his eyes and says approvingly, “I think we’re nearly there.”
“What are you doing to me?” Mark rasps. “What’s happening?”
Dr. Cross ignores the questions and instructs him to squeeze his hands and wiggle his feet. Obediently, Mark complies. He can’t do much more than this, but once he gets his strength back, there’s nothing he won’t do to get out of this real-life nightmare.
The doctor says, “All set. He’s aware of what’s happening. We’re good to go.” Mark watches as he beckons to someone off to the side. He hears the person step forward, but he doesn’t see who it is until he’s just inches away.
Mark blinks, unable to fathom what he’s seeing—his own face staring back at him. Even with his blurry vision, there’s no mistaking the dark hair combed into a pompadour and the strong jaw and intense, heavily lidded eyes accentuated by dark lashes. He’s struck speechless, trying to make sense of the vision above him.
“Hello, my boy. You’re not looking so good.” The words come out of the imposter’s mouth, so close he can smell the brandy manhattan on his breath. “I’m glad you’re awake now because I think it’s important that you know this was your choice. You traded your future for the promise of easy money.” He chuckles. “A shame you were so greedy. But on the bright side, I think you’ll be pleased with what I do with your life. Now that I have this beautiful body, there’s no stopping me.”
Mark reaches up to push the hallucination away, and when he does, he catches sight of his own hand and is shocked. In disbelief, he turns it from side to side, bringing it closer so he can get a better look. It’s a gnarled claw of a hand, with raised veins and liver spots. The hand of a man in his eighties. One ready to leave the party. Bile creeps up and burns his throat. His mouth feels oddly full because of the dentures fitted over his gums. Looks can be deceiving. “No.” A tear rolls down his cheek.
“I think Mark is beginning to understand,” Nurse Darby says.
The group chuckles as Monica says, “Too little, too late.”
As he catches sight of their jeering faces, he gets a flash of insight regarding a notation in Lisa’s journal, a sentence she’d underlined three times, the last time so emphatically that the pen tore through the paper. The Redevine Society is a cipher. He understands now that she wasn’t referring to the people in the group. What she meant was that the name is a cipher—or more accurately, it is an anagram.
R E D E V I N E
Mentally, he reshuffles the letters like moving tiles on a Scrabble board:
NEVER DIE
“The Redevine Society” transposed is “The Never Die Society.” No wonder their photographs show the eight of them raising their glasses in a toast, saying, To never growing old.
It’s the last thought he has before the pillow comes down over his face. There is no point in struggling. He no longer has the strength.
Epilogue
Everything about Las Vegas astounded Brian, from the Hare Krishnas chanting at the airport, to the free champagne handed out at the casinos, to the dazzling, pulsating neon signs that lined the Strip. He gaped at the showgirls with their enormous feathered headdresses and took in all the excitement of the game tables. He even gambled a little too. Nickel slots, for the most part, and one time at the roulette wheel. Although he walked around the casino floor for hours on end, he didn’t get sucked into the big-money bets. Leave that for the wheeler-dealers, the guys who had something to prove. He was there for one reason and one reason only, and he didn’t want to get sidetracked.
He’d flown to Las Vegas to talk to his brother, but once he arrived he’d found that this proved more difficult than he’d anticipated. Brian had so many questions for Mark. Why the radio silence for more than fourteen months? Their mother had been frantically worried. Even their stepdad had expressed concern about Mark’s well-being, and that was big of him after all the grief that kid had given them over the years.
Mark had been AWOL for more than a year when the family had seen a newspaper article in the Sunday paper talking about the hottest new magic act in Las Vegas. The large photo had caught their eye, and the article confirmed that the magician in question was Mark. His stepdad pushed the newspaper across the table to Brian and asked, “What do you know about this?”
Brian read the article and shook his head. “Nothing, really. I mean, I met his girlfriend, Monica, once, when I went over to their apartment. She seemed nice. I didn’t know they’d left the state or that they were still together.” That they were still a couple was astounding, given Mark’s track record with women.
“How did he learn to do magic?” his stepdad asked, scratching behind his ear.
Brian shrugged. “Beats me.”
According to the article, it wasn’t just the usual rabbit-out-of-a-hat magic. The illusions Monica and Mark performed were unusual, even by the standards of professional magicians. The act consisted of one confounding thing after another: Monica tap-danced upside down on the ceiling; Mark’s body decayed in a matter of minutes until he ended up as a clothed skeleton walking up and down the aisles; and shockingly, the two of them exchanged heads so that Mark’s head was on Monica’s body and the other way around. “The most disturbing, incredible show I’ve ever seen,” said Margie Hightower of Omaha, Nebraska. “I’d love to see it again!”
The article also quoted an official of the International Brotherhood of Magicians as saying, “Some of these tricks haven’t been performed since the heyday of Walgrave’s Astounding Wonders fifty years ago. No one figured out how it was done back then, and today it’s still a mystery.”
The newspaper went on to say that Norman & Grau’s Magnificent Marvels had outgrown the Sahara Lounge and was now headlining sold-out shows at the Las Vegas Hilton. In an attempt to contact Mark, his parents tried both writing and calling the hotel. The switchboard operator said that without prior approval she couldn’t connect the call. It was doubtful, too, that their letters were forwarded to him. At least that’s what they’d assumed, since they’d never heard back.
When Brian had seen an ad in the paper for a three-night, four-day package deal to Las Vegas, he’d booked it for himself without telling his parents.
It wasn’t until his third day in Las Vegas that Brian managed to score a ticket to Mark’s show. He had to pay a scalper three times the listed price, and that was for a matinee. The seat wasn’t even all that great either. It killed him to shell out that much money, but by this point he was desperate. Earlier he’d stopped at the front desk and asked to speak to Mark, explaining that he was his brother, but since Brian wasn’t on the approved list, they refused to put him through. His next idea was to spend time hanging out at the lounge, waiting to see if Mark would come by, but that didn’t happen either.
Brian couldn’t believe how hard it was to connect with his brother. You’d think he was Liberace, the way they protected his privacy. If they knew Mark the way Brian did—as the family screwup—then they’d know he was nothing special.
But then he saw the show, which put his brother in a different light. Once the lights went down and the curtain came up, Brian was transfixed. Mark proved to be the ultimate entertainer, commanding the attention of every person in the room. The lights, the music, and the costumes were all superb, but they were just window dressing compared to the magic, which, Brian decided, absolutely, positively had to be real magic. There was no other explanation. How did Monica grow wings right in front of them and fly overhead? It could only be from some supernatural power.
Brian had trouble reconciling the man in front of him with the whiner he’d known his entire life. On stage, Mark was confident and relaxed. He seemed, Brian realized, to be completely in his element. It was clear that Mark was having the time of his life.
After the show, the audience leape
d to their feet. The applause was thunderous, the cries of “Encore!” deafening. Mark and Monica came out holding hands and bowed, while their adoring fans wolf-whistled, stamped their feet, and screamed for more. The pair accommodated the request with one more trick, sending floating, glowing bubbles out into the audience. Those lucky enough to touch one giggled with delight at the chiming sound the bubbles made when popped.
When the show was over, the lights went on. While everyone else trooped up the aisles toward the exits, Brian walked against the flow of the crowd in the direction of the stage. He approached an usher and introduced himself, saying, “I’m Brian Norman, Mark’s brother. I’d like to talk to him.”
“Sorry, no one goes back unless they’re on the list.”
The list again. Good grief, if family members weren’t on the list, who was? Brian sighed. “Can you just tell him I’m here?” He removed his wallet from his back pocket and handed over his driver’s license. “Show him this, if you need proof.”
The usher reluctantly took Brian’s driver’s license and looked it over for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he jogged up the stage steps and disappeared behind the curtain. While waiting, Brian flipped through the program. A few minutes later, the usher returned, beckoning for him to follow him.
When they reached the dressing room, Brian found Mark sitting in front of a vanity mirror, combing his hair into a pompadour, while Monica sat nearby, eating apple slices. When Mark saw Brian standing in the doorway, he got up and extended a hand. “Brian! It’s nice to see you. What brings you to Las Vegas?”
Brian shook his hand, confused. “What brings me to Las Vegas? I can’t believe you’re asking me that. Mom and Dad have been worried sick. No word from you in over a year. We thought you were dead. What gives, Spud?”
Mark’s smile wasn’t one he’d ever seen his brother use before. It was the smile of a man with the winning hand in poker. “I don’t answer to Spud anymore. It’s Mr. Norman now. As for not being in touch, I believe that’s my prerogative.” He gestured to Monica. “You’ve met my better half, Monica Grau?”
“Of course,” Brian said, nodding in her direction. “It’s nice to see you again, Monica.” She gave a little finger wave, then resumed eating.
Noticing the program in Brian’s hand, Mark said, “Did you enjoy the show?”
For a second, Brian forgot his mission. “Did I enjoy it? Hell yeah! It was unbelievable. Absolutely incredible. I had no idea you were so talented. You have to tell me how you did it. I promise I can keep a secret.”
Mark laughed. “A magician never tells his secrets. I can tell you, though, that I learned all of these illusions from Roy Walgrave, a brilliant and generous magician.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Remember the job I had working as a home health aide? You came to see me at the house?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Roy Walgrave and his sister were my employers,” Mark said. “Turns out that Roy was so impressed with my potential that he made me the sole beneficiary of his estate, and he also passed on all his magic secrets to me. I guess it wasn’t such a loser job after all.”
Brian felt his face flush red upon hearing his own words quoted back to him. “Oh.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a tight schedule. It was nice seeing you, Brian. Say hello to the folks for me.”
Mark had him by the elbow now and was escorting him to the door. His grip was surprisingly firm. Brian said, “Wait! I leave tomorrow morning, but I was hoping we could do dinner tonight.”
“No, sorry, that won’t work out. We have a show tonight.”
“I know. I meant after the show?”
Mark shook his head. “We’re otherwise engaged, but thank you for the offer.” He continued to maneuver Brian by the arm until they were out in the hallway.
Otherwise engaged? What the hell? Pretty high-and-mighty talk, given his background. “I came a long way,” Brian said. “And I think—”
“I realize that, but no one told you to come.” Mark grinned. “And you did get to see an incredible show, so the trip wasn’t a total waste.”
The hallway’s walls were lined with posters of all the acts that had appeared there to date, signed by the celebrities themselves. Barbara Streisand, Robert Klein, Elvis Presley. Someday, Brian realized, Mark’s picture would be among them. His little brother up there with all the greats. So unreal. “Can I at least give Mom and Dad your phone number? They’d love to talk to you.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t think that’s advisable. If I need to reach anyone, I’ll be in touch. Thanks so much for stopping by.”
Brian hesitated, racking his brain for something that might change the trajectory of this conversation. He’d won every argument he’d ever had with Mark, so it was inconceivable that he was now getting the bum’s rush. This new version of his brother had him rattled.
From down the hall, a large man called out, “Mr. Norman, I have a message for you from Mr. Sinatra. He called confirming drinks after the show.”
“Am I supposed to call him back?” Mark asked.
“No, he just said to meet at his usual table.”
“Will do, Bob.” Mark gave Brian a gentle, friendly push. “Thanks again for stopping by. Have a safe flight home.” He turned to go back into the dressing room.
Flustered, Brian said, “Was he talking about Frank Sinatra?”
But Mark had already closed the door. Brian trudged down the hall, back the way he’d come. The last few hours had been unreal. He thought about the show, the way the announcer’s voice had come over the loudspeaker: “Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to witness Norman & Grau’s Magnificent Marvels. Please welcome to the stage Mr. Mark Norman and Miss Monica Grau!” Before they’d even performed one trick, the audience had loved them, cheering and applauding as if just spotting Mark and Monica on the stage was enough. And when the act began, the fervor had built into a tidal wave of adoration.
He thought back to something he’d overheard as he was taking his seat. A woman in the row behind him said this was the hottest act in Vegas and possibly the best magic act in the history of the world. He shook his head. Somehow, in the last year, Mark had been completely transformed. He looked happier than Brian had ever seen too.
Apparently, the whole family had underestimated Mark. Who knew he’d be capable of such showmanship? Brian shook his head in silent wonderment. Somehow his younger brother had managed to acquire the kind of confidence that filled an auditorium. And hobnobbing with celebrities? Totally unexpected. Who could have seen that coming?
If he’d known Mark was going to become such a big deal, he’d have been a hell of a lot nicer to him growing up.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Jessica Fogleman, Grace Greene, Michelle San Juan, MaryAnn Schaefer, Barbara Taylor Sissel, and Caitlin O’Dwyer for their invaluable contributions to this book.
About the Author
K.J. Young is the pseudonym of an author known for heartwarming novels of love, puppies, and the kindness of strangers.
* * *
Welcome to her dark side.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, she’d be overjoyed to see your thoughts in a review. If you didn’t think it was that great, well then, never mind.