Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions (7 page)

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.

“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.