Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions

by Diane Wylie

  “Did you see them tonight?” The gossipy voice of an unseen woman asked on the other side of the screen.

  “See whom?” A bored-sounding female voice responded.

  “The magician and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Elliott.”

  Husband and wife exchanged glances, but kept silent.

  “What about them?” the second woman asked. She still sounded uninterested.

  “Isn’t it scandalous how much older she is? Imagine taking a husband so much younger than yourself!”

  Outraged, Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but Ruby put her hand up to stop him. Then she put a finger to her lips. She obviously wanted to hear more.

  “Dear me, Ethel, you are mistaken. I’ve known both of them for years. Mr. Elliott is a year or so older than his wife, if memory serves. My husband and I went to one of his first illusionist performances in 1890. He has not aged a bit by comparison with his wife.”

  The first woman spoke again. “How old is Mr. Elliott, do you think?”

  “Now I am not one to gossip, as you know, but I expect they are both in their fifties by now, dear. Twenty years ago we first saw him perform as ‘The Illusionist.’ I daresay his show has improved tremendously since then.”

  The line of people moved forward, but Ruby bent down to fix her shoe. Stephen, taking the hint, waved several people around them as they waited to hear more. The chatting women had moved a little further away so they had to strain to hear them.

  “How can someone defy time, Sophie? He has neither the looks, nor the physique of a man in his fifties. In my opinion, Stephen Elliott is no ordinary magician. I think he dabbles in black magic, you know, sorcery. Perhaps he should be reported to the authorities—”

  Her voice faded away as the line of people started moving again.

  Ruby’s face grew pale and her eyes flew wide. Her fingers dug into his arm. “I have lost my appetite, darling.” Her voice was calm, but firm. “Shall we go home? I am not feeling well.”

  Stephen’s mind spun, could two elderly gossips possibly cause him harm? “Certainly, my dear. Let’s take our leave right away.”

  Forcing himself to walk and act normally proved to be difficult, especially when they had to stop repeatedly to speak to friends, neighbors, and folks who knew “The Illusionist.” In his mind’s eye he could envision the Philadelphia police officers coming through the door at any moment to arrest him as they had in Mexico City.

  Retrieving their wraps, Stephen helped Ruby don her coat. Then a male voice behind him made his blood run cold.

  Chapter Six

  “Mr. Marchand, how good to see you, sir.” Ruby spoke first as she looked over Stephen’s shoulder.

  Slowly, trying to control his temper, he turned to face the man who had arranged the trip to Mexico all those years ago. Memories of the beating he took and the cold, damp cell were as fresh as the day they threw him in prison.

  In a flash the anger dissipated. The man was elderly now, a white-haired frail creature, sitting hunched in a wheelchair. Thomas Marchand. Physically only a shadow of the fine gentleman he once was, the man smiled toothlessly up at Stephen.

  “Mr. Elliott, may I congratulate you on your continued success?” He held out a bony hand to Stephen, who offered a perfunctory shake so as not to insult or injure. “I was sorry to read of your brother’s passing. Michael was a fine solicitor, and a very shrewd businessman too.”

  They exchanged polite conversation with Mr. Marchand and his nephew, who served as an escort. No explanation of Marchand’s absence all these intervening years was given and none asked for.

  As they said their farewells and waited for the hired carriage, Stephen doubted he would ever see Marchand alive again. The man had to be eighty or more. The resentment he had harbored for all these years was gone, and he realized how useless the emotion had been.

  Once they were alone in the carriage, Ruby once again grasped his upper arm so tightly he could feel her nails through his heavy coat sleeve.

  “Stephen, I have been wondering the same thing those women were speaking of. Why haven’t you aged at all? You do look just as you did twenty years ago.” She spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Something has happened to you, I can sense it.”

  He gave her hand a pat then urged her fingers loose from their death grip. “That cannot be, Ruby. Nothing has happened to me. I am just fit and healthy. You know some folks age slower than others.” He kept any other comments she might misconstrue off his lips. She had been insulted by the two women’s comments and lashed out at him as a consequence.

  “Darling, there is no reason for concern,” he continued. “You are still as beautiful as the day we met.”

  She hit him on the shoulder, surprisingly hard for a small lady. “I’m not worried about me, you dolt. It is you I’m concerned about.”

  He shrugged, but inched away from her and her sharp nails. “I admit they had me feeling a bit apprehensive with their talk of black magic, but it is just nonsense from gossipy women.”

  Ruby made no comment, which was a bad omen. When his wife stopped talking and began thinking, it usually meant Stephen would pay some kind of price.

  As it turned out, he did have good reason for his qualms when he opened the door one week later to find Doctor Walker on the doorstep with his black bag in hand.

  “Hello, Doctor Walker,” Stephen stood back and allowed the man to enter. “What brings you here today? Is Ruby suffering from some malady she has not seen fit to enlighten me on?”

  Collecting the doctor’s black coat, he draped it on the coat rack in the wide foyer.

  “No, Mr. Elliott. Your wife has summoned me about you.”

  Stephen had no time to recover from this surprise before Ruby swept in from the kitchen, greeting the doctor warmly. “How good of you to come, Doctor Walker.”

  She turned to Stephen. “I asked the doctor to come and check you over since you have been feeling a bit run down lately.”

  As she made the ludicrous statement, she cocked her head ever so slightly, asking him to play along. Stephen had been out maneuvered. He gave in with a sigh.

  When the physician finished with his examination thirty minutes later, Stephen put on his shirt again. The older man took a seat in one of the library’s leather wingbacks, regarding him solemnly.

  “Mr. Elliott, you are in remarkable health,” the doctor declared. “By our fifties we often start to experience arthritis and other signs of aging—” He peered at Stephen over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. “However, you seem to be an exception to the rule. Have you no need of corrective eyeglasses either?”

  Stephen shook his head and sat down in the chair opposite the doctor. “Thank you, sir, I am sure my wife will be pleased to hear this information. I am sorry you were called out here for no reason. I attribute my good health to regular physical activities and my wife’s excellent cooking.”

  The man hesitated for a moment then gazed at Stephen with uncertainty in his kind old eyes.

  “Is there something you wish to say, Doctor Walker?”

  “I don’t know quite how to put this, Mr. Elliott. I find it most distasteful to ask, but I must or I fear there will be no end to the pressure induced on me to obtain an answer.”

  “To whom and what are you referring?” Stephen was confused. He stood and shrugged into his jacket again.

  “There has been, ahem, talk about you. At night.”

  “Doctor Walker!”

  “Please let me say this, sir.” The man’s forehead glistened with sweat. “I need to know. I can put their fears to rest.”

  “Whose fears?”

  “The lady’s name shall not pass my lips, sir.” The old man drew himself up, putting on a righteous air. But Stephen wasn’t fooled. The doctor was trying to deflect his own culpability for an uncomfortable situation.

  “Just ask your question, Doctor. I may or may not answer it.”

  With a deep breath, the physician plunged in. “What are you doing
late at night in your workshop that requires you to be…um…unclothed?”

  “You’ve been looking in my windows!” Stephen couldn’t help but yell. Anger reared its ugly head, flooding his body with hot rage. He jumped to his feet and began pacing, trying to think.

  “N-no, I…uh…the lady,” the doctor nearly fell off his chair with surprise.

  How can I possibly answer the question? Dare I refuse to allay their fears? Reflexively Stephen started to reach for the stone, but remembered he had locked it in the desk drawer for the examination. He walked to the sideboard and poured out some whiskey then froze. If he drank this, word would surely get back about how the famous magician was a drunk.

  “Would you like a drink?” He held the glass out to the doctor.

  With a nod, the man accepted the glass and gulped it down with a gasp.

  “Doctor Walker, I will say this once and once only. What a man and his wife do, in the privacy of their own home, or workshop, is no one’s concern but their own.”

  “I—yes—certainly. Quite so, sir. I apologize for the question.” Picking up his black bag, the doctor stood.

  Relaxing, Stephen smiled. The poor man was mortified. Draping a companionable arm around his shoulder, the magician led the way out.

  “In the future, sir, you may want to reconsider listening to neighborhood talk.”

  “I have to agree with you there, Mr. Elliott. I deserve to be chastised.”

  Apologizing again, his face still as red at the holly berries on the Christmas wreath; the physician stepped out of the library.

  Ruby waited in the hall. “How is he, Doctor Walker?”

  The physician’s eyes darted from her face to Stephen’s then to the front door. “Your husband is fine, Mrs. Elliott. There are no problems with his health, I assure you.” Hurrying to the door, he spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll see myself out,” he mumbled and was gone.

  Ruby closed the door after briefly watching the rotund doctor scurry to his carriage and drive away. Then she turned and regarded Stephen from head to toe.

  Grinning, he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorjam, waiting for her to speak. Finally she let out a sigh and came closer, wrapping her arms around him. “I still think something is amiss.”

  “What is amiss is how my wife has no faith in my physical abilities,” he said, and reached down to lift her into his arms. All this fuss about his body made him randy as hell. In three strides he was heading up the staircase. “I intend, my dear, to demonstrate how capable I can be.”

  Her answer was a giggle as she draped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder.

  As they lay in each other’s arms, perspiration on their satiated bodies cooling, Ruby expressed what had apparently been on her mind. “Why were you shouting at the doctor tonight, my love?”

  “Oh, yes. We need some curtains for the workshop windows, sweetheart,” he said, lifting and positioning her on her side so her rump was against his front. Both of his hands were full of her luscious breasts.

  “What does that have to do with yelling at Doctor Walker?”

  “Apparently someone saw me replenishing my magical abilities.” He nuzzled his nose into the base of her slender neck.

  “What?” Ruby violently flipped over to face him in the darkness. “Someone saw you n-naked and had the audacity to ask Doctor Walker to question you?”

  Stephen put his fingers back on her breasts, loving the way they filled his hands. “So it would seem.”

  “This isn’t a good omen. What if someone decides again you are performing black magic and you get put in prison…or worse?”

  “You worry far too much, darling. I let the good doctor believe someone had witnessed a perfectly legal act between a husband and wife.” He cupped her face in the darkness. “An act very similar to what we just did.”

  She shoved his hands away. “I see how much better this will appear. Now we will be discussed as sexual deviants who make love in a workshop in the light of a full moon.”

  Stephen grinned, rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes, ready for sleep. “I quite like the image, Ruby. We should try it.”

  * * *

  Using his coat sleeve, Stephen rubbed the bird droppings off the shiny black fender of his Ford Model T. The auto sat gleaming in the sunlight in front of the house. Oh, how he loved this machine.

  He grasped the handle and gave it a crank. Only half a turn and all four cylinders sprang to life, purring throatily. This was the sound of a real powerful driving machine. He couldn’t wait to get the vehicle out, away from the people and houses, so it could hum along at top speed.

  Today was perfect for driving—clear and sunny—and it hadn’t rained in over a week. The mud holes in the road should be dried up nicely.

  Jumping into the seat, he put it in gear and drove away, waving to Ruby who stood on the front porch watching.

  What a glorious day! This would be a wonderful time to have whole day to take a respite from the accounting books and, truth be told, away from planning and practicing magic.

  Last evening he had endured the re-energizing process so he would be fully prepared for tomorrow’s show. The almanac had said rain was coming, so he wanted to make sure he had enough magical power. After his experience with Doctor Walker, Stephen had made sure the gate to the back yard was locked, no one was lurking in the bushes, and the new curtains Ruby had made were fully drawn. Only after these precautions were completed did he fully disrobe and expose the Mayan charm and himself to the moonlight’s power. Stephen preferred to perform the process naked because his body didn’t heat up as much, cooled faster, and absorbed more energy.

  He steered the shiny machine around a corner. Restoring himself totally nude had all the earmarks of a sexual pagan experience. Ruby knew the effect of his lunar encounters. Inevitably, Stephen would wake in the workshop as randy as a stallion. When he recovered and staggered up to bed, she was always there to offer comfort.

  Occupied with these thoughts, Stephen prepared to turn onto a busy street, heading for the shops. A pretty little bauble might help improve his wife’s mood of late.

  In front, a man driving a horse-drawn wagon full of lumber headed around the bend. A group of children lingered in front of the sweet shop on the corner, looking in the window at the colorful display. The wagon took the turn too fast. First one eight-foot length shifted then suddenly the whole stack teetered. The horse shrieked. Stephen reacted.

  The woman with the children faced the horror as the event unfolded. Her expression would end up staying with Stephen for years.

  Instinctively braking hard, he reached toward the falling load. Green light beams shot from his fingertips. The boards froze in mid-air feet from the children.

  Slamming the auto into neutral and pulling the parking brake lever with his free hand, Stephen jumped out and focused both hands on the heavy wood. By now people were screaming. The wagon overturned with a loud grinding groan. The driver jumped clear, landing in a heap on the dirt road. Someone sprinted over to lend the driver aid.

  The woman and her three children froze, staring up at the suspended load. Expressions of disbelief etched on all four faces.

  “Get out of the way!” Stephen’s muscles quivered under the strain.

  His voice snapped her out of her stunned trance and she quickly shepherded the little ones a safe distance away.

  Struggling for control, Stephen tried to ease the pine boards to the ground, but the weight was more than he had ever handled. The lumber crashed to the boardwalk in a cloud of debris, some of the wood splintering into pieces.

  Thank God! Those children could have been killed!

  He stood for a moment, laboring for air. The rush of air in and out of his lungs was the only sound. Everything went still. Beyond the pile of shattered wood men, women, and children stared at him. Some wore expressions of shock, others fear, and still others looked horrified.

  “Who are you?” one man called
out.

  “How did you do that?” said another.

  “It’s unnatural!” a woman in a big flowered hat shrieked.

  Stephen held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Several people cried out when he moved. “It’s all right, folks. I just wanted to help, that’s all.” He took a step backward then slowly turned to his Tin Lizzie, which was still idling behind him.

  As he climbed into the driver’s seat, the crowd murmured among themselves. The driver of the lumber wagon stood among them, looking dazed. Then the man pointed to Stephen.

  “That’s the magician, ‘The Illusionist’,” he yelled. “He made my wagon overturn!”

  “No!” Stephen shook his head. “I didn’t. You were driving too fast.”

  “Stop him!” Several men stepped around the lumber and began advancing, their faces now masks of anger.

  Quickly putting the car in reverse, Stephen backed away at high speed, wrenched the wheel around, shifted gears, and sped away in the direction he had come.

  * * *

  Nausea churned in his stomach. No time to be sick. Rifling through his desk, Stephen pulled out all the money he could find. With any luck he could make it to the bank before word spread.

  “Jacob, you’d best think about getting your family away!” He called to his assistant as he passed the library door carrying a pair of suitcases.

  Upstairs Ruby sobbed loudly and thumped around, packing up her prized possessions.

  Jacob paused in front of the open door; his freckled face altered by age and now by sorrow. “Words can’t express how sorry I am this happened to you, my friend. Mary and I will be just fine. Don’t you worry about us. We’re taking an extended visit to see her family in Virginia. She’s packing up clothing for the little ones right now.” Setting down one bulging leather case, he wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “Little Matthew will love taking a train ride.”

  Stephen forced a smile. Standing, he crammed papers and cash into his jacket pocket and crossed the room. Impulsively, he pulled Jacob into a quick hug and released him. They had been working together for twenty-two years. How quickly time passed from happy days when Calvin had been just a boy and Jacob a young lad. Stephen had lost his son and his brother, and he was about to lose a good friend and confidant as well.