Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions

by Diane Wylie

  “Papa!” On Michael’s heels came Calvin. In a split second, the boy’s eyes grew as wide as his uncle’s.

  The distraction of those two broke Stephen’s concentration and all six balls fell clattering to the floor. Only through presence of mind did Stephen manage to prevent accidental misdirection of the power and close his fingers over the little stone. He tucked it into the pouch, breathing hard. The strong energy running through him during these sessions stimulated every cell in his body.

  Michael and Calvin both stopped in the doorway with identical stunned expressions, watching him close the panel over the roof’s window.

  “Shut the door, Michael, and I’ll explain.”

  Without a word, his brother closed the door and urged Calvin farther into the room.

  Stephen sat on the bench, trying to gather his wits and strength. The others stood staring at him. How similar their facial structures and builds were. His son was twelve years old now, and the Elliott heritage ran strong in his blood. Except, he did have auburn hair, fair coloring, and freckles he had inherited from Ruby’s family. Cal hated those freckles, but Stephen counted each one as precious gifts from his wife.

  “Papa, how did you do that?” Cal was clearly excited, now he had recovered from his initial shock. He walked over to the balls and bent over, his hand outstretched toward the colorful spheres.

  “Stop!” Michael ran over and pulled Cal away. “Don’t touch them. You don’t know what will happen!”

  “It’s all right, Michael. They’re just ordinary balls,” Stephen told him.

  Cal glanced at his uncle, shrugged, and headed back to pick up and examine the balls.

  Michael stomped around the room, lighting the available candles, grumbling under his breath about how the place was “too dark” and “foolish brother of mine.”

  With the moonlight blocked out and candlelight illuminating the room, Stephen began telling his brother and son the whole story. About ten minutes into his explanation of the levitation they had witnessed, the door to the workshop opened again. Ruby, wearing a cloak over her dressing gown came in looking worried.

  “What is going on? I thought you had left, Michael? Calvin, dear, it is bed time.”

  “Mother, wait until you hear what Papa can do!” Cal burst out before Stephen could stop him.

  Ruby frowned. “Whatever is he talking about, Stephen?”

  With a sigh of resignation, Stephen began his story at the beginning again, relating the words of the Mexican peddler, his experience at the jail, and leading up to the experiments he had been conducting. For Ruby’s peace of mind, or for his own, he didn’t tell her how channeling the power of the stone through his body actually hurt.

  They argued for hours when he finished his story. At one point, Calvin climbed onto the bench with his father, put his head in Stephen’s lap, and fell asleep.

  Both Michael and Ruby fought against the use of the Mayan stone to perform magic, fearing for the consequences to Stephen’s health and the possibility of some unexpected accident.

  “But can you not see the potential here? There is not another magician in the country, no, in the world, who can perform real magic. No mirrors. No smoke. No wires. Real levitations…and this is only the beginning!”

  “Don’t get so excited, darling.” Ruby glanced at the sleeping boy next to her husband. “You’ll wake him.”

  “If I can find a way to use this little stone onstage—” He held it out to them so they could see its harmless little face. “—the crowds will come, and with them will come our fortune. None of us will ever need to worry about money again.”

  He gazed down at his son. “My boy will not have to labor as a carpenter or anything else.” Gently smoothing Calvin’s copper locks, Stephen glanced again at the little Companion Spirit lying in his hand. It seemed so innocuous. Hardly worth all this fuss.

  Michael reached out a hand. “Can I see it?”

  The strange reluctance to part with the charm, for even a moment, seized him again, but Stephen dropped the stone into his brother’s open palm.

  For a moment or two, all Michael did was stare at the artifact, rolling it over in his hand. Then, before Stephen could move, his brother leaped to his feet from the wooden stool, threw open the ceiling panel with a loud bang, and exposed the Mayan stone to the full moonlight streaming in.

  Chapter Four

  “No, Michael!” Stephen and Ruby shouted at the same time.

  Calvin shot to a sitting position just as his father leaped to his feet. Stephen dove at his brother, reaching for the Companion Spirit.

  A wrestling match proceeded, something they had not done in years. The stone dropped to the floor with a ping. Stephen had Michael pinned under him as he stretched toward the little charm lying fully exposed to the moonlight.

  A soft glow suffused the surface and grew in intensity.

  “Get off me, Stephen!” Michael also reached for the stone, but the magician grabbed it first. A jolt of energy ran through him.

  A cry of pain split the air.

  Under him, Michael’s whole body jerked. The energy passed through him to Michael!

  Quickly rolling off his brother and out of the moonlight, Stephen found the velvet pouch around his neck and shoved the rock inside. Skirts rustled and the ceiling panel rumbled shut. Ruby closed the portal tight and looked from him to Michael and back again.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  “Fine.” Stephen rolled over and crawled on all fours to where his brother laid, eyes closed and limbs akimbo. “Mike! Answer me! Are you hurt?”

  Both blue eyes opened and Michael gazed up at his brother. “What happened?”

  “The energy from the stone went through me and then you. You should not have done what you did.”

  “I can see why.” His tone was as dry as a lawyer’s.

  “Can I try it, Papa?” Cal was dancing from one foot to another, holding his hand out for the Companion Spirit.

  “No!” Three adult voices rang out simultaneously.

  * * *

  May 1900

  Philadelphia, PA

  “Jacob, we’ve been working together for years. Why must I explain how I need the lighting for each trick? Can’t you use your best judgment?”

  The still-boyish face of his assistant became as petulant as if the clock had turned back twenty years and he was a lad instead of a grown man with two children of his own.

  “Mr. Elliott,” Jacob said, his tone clipped, “when I do, you always find something to change.”

  Standing in the middle of the stage, Stephen’s stomach churned with anxiety. Tonight would be a private show for the Prince of Wales and his invited guests in the Walnut Street Theater. He had not given a private performance since the one for the Mexican governor had resulted in his imprisonment years ago. This the fact weighed on his mind, along with his plan to use the powers of the Companion Spirit tonight for levitation. Unfortunately there was no way to tell if he had stored up enough of the charm’s energy to complete the feat.

  For years he had practiced in the moonlight, holding the Mayan stone to channel its power through him to the object. Then one day he had accidentally summoned his slippers out of his bedroom, down the stairs, and onto his feet by merely thinking about the slippers sitting under his bed. Since that time he could move objects at will with concentration. Thankfully he had been alone in the house at the time. Breaking this kind of news to his family took the right timing and careful finesse.

  “Mr. Elliott?” Jacob’s voice interrupted Stephen’s thoughts. How long had he been just standing here like this? People would think he had gone daft. On the other hand, maybe a crazy magician would bring in even more crowds.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob.” He walked back to where his assistant was assembling the large tri-folding full-length mirrors. “What was your question?”

  “Which mirror goes in the middle?”

  Stephen picked up each plate of silvered glass
, turned it over, and inspected it closely. “This one.” He turned it around so Jacob could see the back. “See how translucent the silvering is? This is the one Ruby will stand behind.”

  What a shame he could only use the Companion Spirit’s power to move things. If he had the power to create objects as well, it would come in very handy in this business of befuddling the mind and defying the laws of nature.

  An hour later, the show was going smoothly just as they had planned. In the audience Stephen could see the Prince of Whales sitting in the center of his beautiful women wearing glittering jewels and satin gowns.

  Facing the tri-fold mirror, Stephen turned his back to the audience. The lights on the stage dimmed as he gave a wave of his hand. Jacob had the lights under control tonight.

  “Behold,” he said, raising his hand, palm up, toward the mirrors. The crowd gasped.

  “There’s no one behind him!” one person said.

  “Where is the woman?” another asked.

  “She must be a ghost,” came the answer.

  He watched the same thing his audience saw. At first the blurry silhouette of a woman, in a flowing long red dress, surrounded by a halo of light, appeared as if at a distance. Gradually, she floated gracefully closer and closer, her image ethereal and ghostly while his own reflection in the mirror appeared sharp and crisp.

  Stephen moved closer to the mirror and pressed one palm flat against the cool surface. Ruby’s hazy figure came within a few feet and stopped. Her hand stretched beseechingly toward him. Sorrow rose up inside him. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t feel the soft warmth of his beloved, only the coldness of the glass met his touch. This little scene felt too real. Then slowly the light surrounding her faded until she disappeared and only his image remained.

  He let his head drop, put a hand on his heart, and turned back to the audience still without speaking. Raising his head, he bowed from the waist, and walked off the dim stage to the sound of steadily growing applause.

  Strange how his own illusions affected him sometimes. Stephen shook off the blanket of gloom and took a deep breath.

  In the wings Calvin waited, props all around him, a black coat identical to the one Stephen wore, over his arm. “It is going well, don’t you think, Papa?”

  Jacob hurried past them, pushing the mirrors on a squeaking dolly.

  “They do seem to be enjoying everything thus far.” Stephen shed his cape and coat then Calvin helped him put on the new, fully prepared coat, and the cape over it. His son stood in front of him, fastening the cape at his throat while the magician patted his pocket. “Everything is ready, son?”

  “Y— Oh, look. Mother lost one of her trained birds.”

  Stephen turned toward the stage, but nothing appeared to be amiss. He frowned. “I don’t see a lost bird. It appears to me they are all doing just fine.”

  The little budgies were lined up on the long perch, bobbing up and down in time to the tune his wife was playing on her flute. She was dressed now in a wide-skirted blue gown very unlike the gown she wore in the mirror trick. Her glorious hair tumbled freely down her back. Hopefully the audience would not recognize her as his lost love in the mirror.

  The crowd laughed as one little green bird bobbed out of time and whistled his own tune. “Now, Georgie…” Ruby scolded.

  Cal patted the front of his father’s vest. “I suppose I was mistaken. You’re all set now.”

  “Thanks, son.” He gazed fondly at the boy, no…the young man in front of him who was grinning affably. Impulsively Stephen threw his arms around his son’s broad shoulders for a quick embrace. “I promise to bring you into the act for longer periods next time, Cal. We’ll work on your tricks next week again.”

  The freckled face broke into an even bigger grin. “I’d like that. Sally knows you pay me well enough, but it is our hope that I too can hold my own performances so when we marry next year, I can provide a nice home for us.”

  “Of course, Cal—”

  Applause reached their ears.

  “Time to go, Papa. Make ‘em scratch their heads.”

  With a nod, Stephen turned toward the stage, watching Ruby carefully place her colorful birds back in the cage. Opening his arms wide, he stepped back on stage.

  “Aren’t Mrs. Elliott’s parakeets wonderful, folks?”

  Ruby curtsied to the crowd, picked up the cage, and moved toward him. She kissed him on the check quickly whispering, “Good luck, darling.”

  With a big grin, he told her not to worry and took a deep breath as he walked to center stage. After dazzling them with sleight of hand coin and card tricks, the time had come for the big finale.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, for my final act tonight, I will attempt to defy the laws of gravity and physics in an act my lovely wife does not like in the least.” Behind him, Ruby shook her head with obvious disapproval.

  In the center of the stage stood a large cloth-covered object tied to a thick, knurled rope.

  Stephen walked over to the free end of the rope and gave it a hard tug. Nothing happened.

  “Here we have a very large, heavy object. This rope, as you can see, runs over a pulley. What you cannot see above us,” he tilted his head back and looked up, “is the heavy steel beam supporting the pulley.”

  Reaching over, he grabbed the white sheet and pulled it off to reveal a black, cast iron blacksmith’s anvil.

  “As everyone knows, one of these can weigh as much as eight hundred pounds or more. This one is, I believe, about that weight.” Stephen handed the sheet to Ruby. “Can I have three strong volunteers from the audience come up here, please?”

  The audience stirred and five men stood. After a murmured discussion two resumed their seats and the remaining three came on stage. They were large, ruddy-complexioned men, dressed well for the occasion. Two appeared to be young—in their twenties—but one was closer to Stephen’s age, in his late forties.

  The magician had them introduce themselves and gave each a turn to tug on the rope. None of the men could move the anvil alone, although one, particularly beefy man, turned beet red in the face with the effort.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. No need to hurt yourselves.” Stephen chuckled. “As you can see, this is a very heavy object—one I will attempt to lift without assistance.”

  The small group of musicians struck up a lively piece of music while he removed his cape and handed it to Ruby. He did the same with his black frock coat then put a hand on the velvet pouch hanging inside his shirt. Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. The Companion Spirit is gone!

  Quickly he schooled his features back into a smile and continued to remove his vest and shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” Ruby whispered, her smile now wooden and forced.

  “The stone is gone,” he responded softly, unbuttoning the last button and handing her the garments.

  “Where?”

  “I think Cal has it. Get Michael. Go home and stop him, Ruby,” he whispered then turned toward the audience.

  “Can you—”

  “Yes. Go. Quickly.” With a bow to the prince, Stephen walked over to the waiting men as he saw Ruby hurrying to where Michael stood leaning against the wall watching the show. The two of them departed immediately after a brief conversation. He was left to finish the show and worry. Everything will be fine. No good can come of worrying about Calvin right now.

  “Gentlemen, will the three of you raise the anvil, please?” he asked, loud enough for the audience to hear. “As you can see,” he held out his arms and turned, showing them his half-naked torso, “I have nothing up my sleeve.”

  A small ripple of laughter ran through the assemblage. He bowed deeply and gave them a big, confident smile. One pretty woman in a white dress had her hand over her mouth, looking shocked at his state of undress, but he could see the amusement and, perhaps, appreciation in her eyes.

  “Up a tiny bit more, please,” he directed the men. They grunted and strained on the ropes. Stephen lay down on the floor and wiggled u
ntil he was directly under the huge iron object, his hands were open and relaxed at his sides.

  “Lower the rope!” He saw the men hesitate apparently fearing he would be crushed. “Please, gentlemen, let it down. I assure you, I will be unharmed.”

  Closer and closer the flat, black bottom of the anvil came to his chest. The rope creaked and the crowd became still. The men were good people and didn’t want to hurt him. The thought brought another smile to his face.

  Concentrate. Don’t think about Cal and the Mayan charm.

  Summoning the power inside was tricky without the Companion Spirit in his hand. After a second or two of reaching deep, the force began to build deep inside Stephen.

  Beams of light emerged from his upturned palms, directed at the anvil. The anvil stopped its downward descent. Cries of astonishment came from the three men on stage.

  “No one is holding it!” One man said.

  This was the most dangerous point of the trick. If anything broke his concentration now, he would be crushed. “S-step away, gentlemen,” he commanded tightly.

  Their footfalls on the stage told him they had obliged. The free end of the rope dangled at the edge of his field of vision. Sweat broke out all over his body as the heat inside him increased. Rise. Stephen lifted his hands. The anvil moved up a bit at a time then hung suspended in the air with no support. Perspiration stung his eyes.

  Then, almost imperceptively, his body temperature began decreasing. The power was dissipating.

  “Please t-take hold of the ropes again, gentlemen,” he asked hoarsely. After a moment he added, “Ready?”

  “Yessir,” came a deep voice.

  “Complete!” In one quick moment the magician rolled out from under the lethal object and jumped to his feet in time to watch his volunteers struggle to keep the anvil from crashing to the floor. They managed to control it only inches from the boards. It settled down with a loud thump.

  After a moment of silence, someone clapped then another person followed suit until the whole room, including the prince were applauding.