Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions

by Diane Wylie

  But this time Stephen had no desire to bask in it. He had to find out what was happening with his son. Quickly wrapping up his parting comments, he bowed to the crowd, grabbed his clothes, and dressed as he made his way to the back door, almost running headlong into Jacob moving in the opposite direction. His assistant would oversee the crew packing up the props.

  “Have Michael and Ruby returned?”

  “No, Stephen. I haven’t seen them.” Jacob’s brows drew together. “What’s wrong?”

  “No time. I’ll explain later!” Stephen ran out of the back door. Minutes later he had the single horse carriage rumbling down the street.

  The night was clear and cool. Moonlight filtered through the trees lining the street in front of his house when he pulled to a stop. Jumping out, he skirted the house and headed straight for the workshop. Light in the windows showed someone in there.

  Panic had him by the throat now. He could hardly breathe. Had Calvin used the stone? Flinging open the door, he let out a sob at the scene greeting his eyes.

  Calvin lay on the floor with his head in his mother’s lap. The young man’s red hair contrasted starkly with his white face. Michael stood beside them.

  Stephen dropped to his knees next to his son. “Send for the doctor!”

  Ruby lifted her head, tears streaming down her face. “It’s too late!” she screamed. “He’s gone! It’s your fault, Stephen. You and your magic killed him.” Bending low over Calvin, she hugged his body close rocking back and forth, moaning noises coming from deep inside.

  Bewildered, Stephen looked to his brother. “What is God’s name happened, Michael?”

  Grimly his brother related how he and Ruby had dashed home from the theater. They rushed into the house calling for Calvin. Upon receiving no answer, they went to the workshop. As they crossed the lawn a bright flash lit up the windows of the little building. Inside Cal was immobilized, standing in the moonlight with the Mayan charm in his palm, just as they had seen Stephen hold it. The young man’s entire body had glowed with the same yellow-green light Stephen could channel from his fingertips.

  Michael had shouldered his nephew out of the moonlight, releasing him from the force. But the power must have been too great for him to withstand.

  “Cal was only able to tell his mother g-goodbye before he died,” Michael said hoarsely. “His last words were, ‘I’m sorry, M-mama. Don’t blame Papa. I just wanted to be like him.’”

  “Oh, God!” Stephen sobbed and reached to touch his son.

  Ruby reacted instantly. “Don’t you touch him! You have no right. My s-son is dead because of you! Get out! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

  Pain stabbed through Stephen’s wounded heart like a knife. He backed away a few inches. “Please, Ruby. Please! Dear God. Cal!” Tears poured down his face as he watched his wife rocking their son’s body as she had rocked him when he was a baby.

  Stephen crawled over to her and reached out a hand. “Ruby…”

  “No!” The loathing on her face was plain to see. “Get out and don’t come back again. Ever!”

  Never in his life had Stephen felt such waves of sorrow and hurt crash over him. He might be sick.

  “Stephen—” Michael started.

  He got to his feet.

  “—It’s just the shock.” Michael’s voice sounded far away.

  The Companion Spirit lay on the floor beside the dusty old apple tree prop. Stephen stumbled over, picked up the little stone and pocketed it, though he was not sure why.

  Somehow he found the door.

  “Don’t go,” Michael said imploringly, “she needs you.”

  He looked back at Ruby to see if this was true. One last kernel of hope still lingered there in his heart.

  “No. I do not. Go!” Her voice was shrill, hysterical. He accepted her words.

  * * *

  For hours Stephen walked blindly through the deserted streets of Philadelphia, not caring where he went. He was vaguely aware the weather had turned nasty at some point, but the cold rain just blended with the tears on his face.

  He found himself staring out at a black expanse of water stretching out to his left and right. The Schuylkill River. Throw the Companion Spirit into the liquid blackness. The stone caused this grief. Plunging his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled it out. The pleasant little face was a mere shadow in the darkness. Running a finger over the surface, he could feel the irregularities making up the design.

  Calvin was gone. Why couldn’t he listen when I told him not to experiment with the powers of the stone? The boy’s curiosity had killed him. Why didn’t it kill me too?

  No answer came. Rain pattered on the leaves of the trees lining the river bank. Water trickled down Stephen’s neck, soaking his collar. Somewhere a dog barked, an impatient sort of noise, set to the river’s music.

  The pad of his thumb repeatedly caressed the stone, the source of real magic powers. Its secrets could be far greater than mere levitation. Stephen was only beginning to tap its resources. Suppose it held other powers? What good would it do to throw the charm into the river now? It wouldn’t bring back his son or make his wife forgive him. Only God could do those things and Stephen was fairly certain God would not restore Calvin to life. He might, however, help with Ruby.

  Stephen turned away from the river and walked back in the direction he had come. The slightest hint of dawn could be seen in the eastern sky.

  Black sorrow still blanketed his soul, but running away was not the answer. Even if Ruby still rejected him, he would not abandon her, his home, or his dreams. If he kept walking, he might make it home before noon.

  He put the Companion Spirit back into its velvet pouch. Cal’s sleight of hand to relieve him of the stone had been impressive. They would have made an unbeatable team. Sadly, this would never come to pass now. The idea made his throat tighten and tears flowed again.

  Life took unforeseen turns when you least expected them, but one could never give up.

  The rain stopped. A gentle breeze blew the clouds apart. Faint rays of sun filtered through the trees to touch the houses, streets, and lawns of Philadelphia.

  Things would never be the same.

  Chapter Five

  Spring 1909

  It seemed only yesterday he sat in this very same parlor keeping vigil over the body of his son. Now he had to do the same thing for his brother. Stephen’s eyes burned. Michael was gone at the age of sixty. His trusted older brother and best friend…gone. How cruel life could be.

  Michael had been the one to keep the Elliott family intact. If not for his brother’s steadying presence and calm mediation, Ruby would have divorced him after Calvin’s death. The loss of Calvin’s fiancée, whom they had come to love, only added to the sadness. They had not seen Miss Sally Thornton since the day they buried Cal. He had heard the young lady had married two years later and now lived in Boston.

  Stephen’s parents, and Ruby’s too, had passed away years before Cal’s accident. All he had left now were Ruby and his magic show. It had been a struggle, even using the Companion Spirit’s power, to keep the show fresh for so many years. He often went on tour just to find new audiences.

  Where is Ruby?

  The room was silent now. Two tall candlesticks on either side of the fine mahogany coffin gave off muted light. Colorful spring flowers scented the air. All of Michael’s friends and former customers left, but Stephen didn’t know how long they had been gone. He had been caught up in memories, both good and bad. It had been nothing short of miraculous when his learned older brother had finally shown him, a carpenter turned magician, some respect. As “The Illusionist” Stephen had gained notoriety, fame, and financial stability, something he had not ever expected to achieve making furniture.

  The best days of his life happened in the early part of his career as a magician when Michael, Ruby, and Calvin traveled with him. It had been exciting, new, and full of promise. Why hadn’t he appreciated those times when they happened?

>   When had Michael’s hair turned so gray?

  Michael had not gone to work that morning. One of his servants found him still in bed, lifeless. The physician told them his brother’s heart had given out in his sleep. Stalwart, uncomplaining Michael…had he suffered at all? Stephen prayed he had not and, although they never spoke of it, he was glad his bachelor brother had been a part of his life for so long. He would sorely miss him and his stuffy ways.

  Lord, he was tired. Swiping at the wetness on his cheek, Stephen’s glance fell on the sideboard. He had made the piece of furniture himself, many years before. Without getting up, he gestured at it. The double doors opened. Pantomiming the motions with his hands, the glass decanter of whiskey and a tumbler floated out, held by unseen hands. With a pop, the stopper jerked out of the bottle and the bottle tipped. Amber liquid gurgled into the glass, the stopper jumped back in place, and the decanter eased back into the cabinet. The full glass moved toward his beckoning fingers.

  “Stephen!”

  His whole body jerked and the glass dropped, almost hitting the floor before he got it under control.

  Ruby’s long skirts made gentle swishing sounds as she came into the parlor, her footsteps muted by the thick carpet.

  “Husband,” her voice was soft now, “what if someone saw you performing magic off stage?”

  “No one is here…except Michael…and he doesn’t care.” He grabbed the hovering glass and took several noisy gulps, sighing as the liquid burned a fiery trail down to his stomach.

  She sat beside him on the sofa, putting a hand on his knee. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. It came as no surprise she had been crying as well. The relationship between Michael and Ruby had been a close one. Sometimes Stephen felt his brother understood his wife better than he did. Since Cal’s death the two had banded together on many occasions to overrule Stephen. Many a conversation between those two had resulted in the salvation of Stephen’s marriage. He did not begrudge their friendship on any level…to the contrary, he was grateful for it.

  “You know you will need to replenish your, uh, reserves so much the sooner, if you use magic unnecessarily. Michael would care about that.” With a sigh, she put one arm around his shoulders for a hug. “I hate when you have to get in the moonlight. It frightens me.”

  Stephen shrugged and drained his glass. Ruby’s fears were not unfounded. Each time he slid back the panel and offered up the Mayan stone to the moonlight could be his last moments on earth. But she didn’t understand how the risk was part of the attraction. The thrill of standing naked in a pool of nighttime brilliance while unseen energy surged through his body made him feel powerful, special, and invincible.

  Setting the glass on the side table, Stephen gathered her into his arms. Her bones seemed fragile and her body frail to his touch. “I know you don’t like it, sweetheart, but the process is important. The show must go on. My public expects exciting tricks. How can I just use mirrors and sleight of hand any more?”

  “Why don’t you stop working, Stephen?” She glanced over at the coffin. You’re fifty-five now. Can you not give fewer performances at least? We don’t need the money, we have plenty.”

  He looked at her and was surprised to notice the tiny wrinkles around her sad blue eyes and the strands of gray in her dark hair. This made his heart even heavier. Death had a way of making one confront one’s own mortality. The small annoyance at her suggestion for retirement faded, at least for the moment. She only said this because she cared for him. He was so grateful that she still did care after Cal’s tragic death. For some time her feelings for him had seemed lost, so long did she grieve. She needed someone to blame, and Stephen filled the role. Something important had been lost between them the night their son had been killed using the Companion Spirit.

  He smiled at her, his beautiful wounded angel, with sorrow in her eyes, which never faded. “Come, sweetheart,” he stood and held out a hand to her, “this has been a hard day with another sure to follow.”

  Placing her hand in his, she let out a sigh and allowed him to help her up. Opening his arms, she walked into them and embraced him tightly around the waist. He sighed, grateful for the small pleasure.

  “I wish you would stop avoiding my suggestions.” Pulling back, she lifted her face to meet his gaze. “We only have each other now, and all the money we need to last us a lifetime.”

  He gave her no comment. Why, after all these years, didn’t she understand how he felt about his career as a magician? Stephen stepped away and she released her hold. By candlelight Michael looked peaceful, almost content in death. The slight curvature to his mouth made it appear he had experienced or seen something pleasant. It didn’t seem as though his brother had suffered. Thank you, God.

  His wife stood beside him. Stephen could almost feel her hurt at his rebuff. But how could he possibly explain it to her again? Over and over, in many different words, he had attempted to make Ruby understand the pull of his craft. If Stephen Elliott were a magician no longer, who would he possibly be? Nothing. No one. He had been no one before and had no desire to sink into that kind of irrelevance again.

  When he looked at Ruby, standing silently next to him, she had tears shimmering in her eyes again. Who had put them there, her brother-in-law or husband?

  “Goodbye, Michael,” Stephen said softly then closed the coffin’s finely carved lid. Tomorrow they would bury his older brother, but as long as Stephen was alive, he would carry Michael’s memory with him.

  Taking Ruby’s unresisting hand, he blew out the candles and led her through the silent house.

  * * *

  “Ruby, dearest, the carriage awaits.”

  Stephen adjusted his bow tie and shirt cuffs. He wore a formal black jacket for tonight, complete with a shiny, black top hat.

  “Are you sure you want to go to this ball?” She stepped out of the bedroom and promptly took his breath away. At age fifty-three, Ruby Elliott was still the loveliest woman he had ever seen. The lighter gray streaks in her hair only enhanced her beauty. She had artfully woven dainty silver ribbon and tiny pearls into her upswept hairstyle. The dark green velvet gown accentuated her figure wonderfully. Although she claimed her waist had thickened throughout the years, he couldn’t see it. To him her figure appeared as voluptuous and desirable as ever.

  “’Tis the holiday season, my love. While we have mourned the loss of Michael for lo’ these many months, life is passing us by. I long to see you laugh and dance again.”

  Her expression reflected her doubt. Inwardly Stephen sighed, but he gave her his most brilliant smile. “Give me a chance. I vow you will enjoy tonight.”

  He bowed low over her gloved hand, kissed the back of it gently, and led her down the steps. Minutes later they mounted the steps of the rented carriage.

  “You didn’t want to take the automobile tonight, Stephen?” Ruby asked as she pulled the blanket over her legs. “I know how much you love to drive the thing.”

  Sliding in beside her, Stephen grinned thinking of his beautiful new Model T machine. “Not tonight, my dear. The old-fashioned method of transportation is more romantic, do you not agree?”

  “Of course.” She gave his knee a pat.

  The driver urged the horses forward into the crisp, cold night.

  As the Elliotts walked into the building, Stephen heard the musicians playing familiar Christmas tunes. The room blazed with light. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling and lit sconces adorned every wall. Garlands and wreaths of pine added their scent to the perfumes of the ladies in attendance. Red and green ribbons, along with heavily ornament-laden Christmas trees, abounded.

  The orchestra switched to a newly popular Viennese Waltz. Stephen held out a hand to Ruby. “Shall we dance?”

  At her nod, he led her out to join the other elegantly-clothed guests, smiling a greeting to their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Percy Robinson, who were already on the floor. He took his wife’s hand and they began whirling to the haunting melody. Soon her cheeks were
pink and a smile touched her lips, a rare sight of late. Peace and contentment filled his soul. He had made her happy, at least for a time.

  “I love you,” he said into her ear.

  “And I you,” she replied.

  At the end of the waltz, Stephen’s spirits rose, and he was happier than he had been in some time. The long period of mourning had ended and life could begin again.

  Exchanging pleasantries with people they knew, the two of them found an intimate table with a view of the dance floor. He took two glasses of champagne from a passing server and gave one to Ruby.

  “A toast to you, my lovely wife, and to the new year beginning soon.”

  The color was still high in Ruby’s cheeks as they drank, and she still smiled. “I hope it will be a good year, husband.”

  With a nod in agreement, Stephen gazed about the glittering room. Putting a hand to his chest, he felt the reassuring lump under his vest. The Companion Spirit nestled in its cocoon of black velvet. Tonight, when Ruby slept, he would go to his workshop to replenish his magical energies for the Sunday afternoon show. Hopefully the moon would be shining brightly tonight.

  They danced again—a minuet and another two-step waltz—then Stephen’s stomach rumbled.

  “Let’s retire to the buffet table, shall we?” he asked.

  “I was wondering how long you could wait,” Ruby replied with a laugh. “You always have quite an appetite.”

  “Eating is always an enjoyable pastime for me.” Stephen patted his stomach.

  Shaking her head, the corners of Ruby’s mouth lifted. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay so trim. Why, you look much the same as you did thirty years ago.”

  “Enough talk.” They both stood and he offered her his arm. “Follow me.”

  So many people had come out to celebrate the holidays tonight. They sparkled like jewels and talked like magpies. Stephen and Ruby fell silent as they waited their turn beside a tall folding screen used to give some order to the throngs of guests.