Prelude to Magic: The Prequel to Moonlight and Illusions

Prelude to
Magic:

The Prequel to Moonlight and
Illusions

Diane Wylie

Copyright 2012 by Diane
Wylie

Smashwords Edition

ath-a-na-sia [ath-
uh
-
ney
-z
huh
]
n
. deathlessness; immortality; endless
existence

Copyright © 2012 by Diane Wylie

All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without written
permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief
quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
and events are either the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is coincidental.

Cover design: Elaina Lee

Discover more about Diane
Wylie at
http://www.dianewylie.com

Dedication

To my husband, Ed, for your love, understanding, and
support every day of our lives together. Words alone cannot express
how I feel about you. You are my hero and my inspiration.

To my family and friends who cheer for me and
console me when I need it. I love you all.

To anyone who has pursued a dream. Keep the faith.
Dreams do come true.

Chapter One

1889

Mexico City, Mexico

“Look. See the puppet dance, amigo.” The toy-maker
held the wooden controller in one hand and maneuvered his fingers
to make the stringed toy hop and move. Tiny red wooden shoes
clickety-clacked on the stones, and the cloth-covered arms jerked
up and down.

“Look, Papa! Can I get one? Please? I promise to eat
all my vegetables.”

At his wife’s nod, Stephen Elliott crouched down to
watch the marionette next to his son. The happy painted smile and
green hair on the toy were enough to lift anyone’s spirits, despite
the sweltering temperatures. Sweat trickled down his back and his
hair was damp under his wide-brimmed hat. At times like this he
longed to dress as he did when he was just a cabinet maker. An
open-necked shirt would be much better. He tugged at the
buttoned-up collar.

Poor Ruby had even more layers on. All those
petticoats under her gown had to trap the heat. But she was in good
spirits, smiling at him over Calvin’s head as the boy exclaimed
over the bright, colored toy.

“He would be a good friend to keep you company on
our long trip home.” Stephen gave his wife a tiny nod and raised a
brow.

“You must take care of it, Calvin dear. The strings
can tangle easily.” Ruby, of course, saw things from a mother’s
practical perspective, but she gave an answering nod of
agreement.

After a few minutes of the expected bargaining, the
toy maker’s brown face broke into a smile as he accepted the coins
and handed Calvin the controller. Guiding the boy’s hand, the man
demonstrated the figure’s actions. Finally the puppet walked away
with a twitching, lurching gait under the guidance of its new
owner.

The Elliott family continued through the crowded
marketplace filled with the odors of fresh fish, musky leather, and
the nutty smell of woven baskets. With each step the calls of the
sellers enticed them to buy…at least Stephen assumed this much
since he couldn’t understand Spanish.

Some tugged at his sleeve. He stopped and searched
around. To his left was a tiny, wizened old woman with skin the
color of a walnut.

“Señor. Señor
. You are American
illusionist?”

“At your service, Madame.” He searched for his wife
and found her one stall away holding Calvin’s hand as she examined
a rainbow of knitted shawls. His son walked his new puppet back and
forth.

“Tonight you do magic for the governor,
sí
?”

“Yes…uh…
sí
,” he agreed, still watching his
family.

Her gaze followed his. “Your
esposa
?
Wife?

“Sí
. Mrs. Elliott.” He nodded.

“Not the one,” the gray-haired woman shook her head
then her gnarled fingers took his and flipped his palm face up. Her
sleight of hand rivaled his as an odd stone appeared in his open
hand. It measured about an inch and a half square with rounded
corners. Two rounded holes appeared like eyes and a small oblong
indentation formed a mouth. The little square face was divided in
half, with one side smooth and the other half engraved with a
diamond pattern. The weight and feel of the stone was oddly
comforting. Upon turning it over, he saw the small gray stone was
smooth on the back, except for some odd markings he couldn’t
decipher. Stephen met the old woman’s gaze, trying to make some
sense of this. Why had she said Ruby was “not the one?” Perhaps
he’d misunderstood.

“You take for good luck. Ancient Mayan charm,” she
said, folding his fingers over the stone.

“Ah, yes, I read how the Mayans were an ancient
civilization who settled on your country’s Yucatan peninsula. Is
that correct?” He smiled. She intended to make sure he took this
stone.

“Sí
. Good luck. This symbol means
‘
Way
’ in Mayan language.”

“It means ‘good luck’ then?” Stephen turned the
stone over again in his hand then checked on his family. Ruby
appeared to be purchasing a bright yellow shawl.

“No, ‘
Way
’ mean ‘
Companion
Spirit
.’ It bring you luck.” The old woman’s unfathomable
brown eyes bored into his. “
Companion
Spirit
is sun
spirit. Only sun. ‘
Way’
not for moonlight. Understand? Only
sun. No moon.”

“Of course,
Señora
. I understand. The
‘
Companion Spirit
’ can only be in the sunlight, not in the
moonlight.” Fumbling for some coins, he paid the woman. Best to
keep good relations with the Mexican citizens. Ruby was looking for
him now.

“Thank you. I shall treasure this greatly,
Señora
.” He slipped the stone in his pocket, tipped his hat
to the odd little woman, and hurried to catch up with his family,
wondering if the Mexican woman sold all the travelers passing by
her table a good luck charm.

* * *

“Tonight will be your last performance before we
begin our journey back to Philadelphia. Are you glad of it, my
love? Or will you miss the adoration of the multitudes who come to
see The Illusionist?”

Stephen checked the pockets of his black coat to
make sure he had everything. Along with a piece of candy Calvin had
given him were the small balls, cards, and coins he needed for the
act, and the good luck piece. From their room backstage he heard
the buzz of the crowd beginning to grow. Tonight could be another
sellout.

Moving to his wife, he took Ruby in his arms and
held her close, inhaling the light violet scent of her perfume, a
gift from him while they were in France.

“I grow weary of traveling, Ruby love. Calvin has
grown up these two years past. It is time he had a proper
schooling…an American schooling.”

“
I look forward to going home as
well, husband. You need to rest after tonight. This has been hard
on you, I fear. You’ve dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t you
sleep well last night?” She reached up and smoothed his
forehead.

“No. I kept going over every trick in my mind. I
want everything to go well tonight.” Giving her a brief squeeze,
careful not to wrinkle her satin gown, Stephen took a deep breath
and stepped back to survey his beautiful assistant. What a perfect
distraction she was on stage with her voluptuous figure,
resplendent in a deep red gown and white stomacher with its low
neckline. Red shoes and the red ribbons in her hair completed her
ensemble.

“You are stunning, my beloved.” He gave her a gentle
kiss.

“Why thank you, sir,” she responded with a playful
curtsy. “Calvin is sitting with Uncle Michael tonight, so I can
concentrate on helping you.”

Stephen donned his traditional red silk-lined
magician’s cape and offered his arm. Why had he ever worried about
accepting Thomas Marchand’s proposal to take his show on tour? The
man had arranged every theater, museum, and venue to perfection,
down to this final showing with the Governor of Mexico in
attendance. Even his brother, Michael, had approved enough to come
visit and take in the last show of his seven-country tour.

He left Ruby in the darkened wings, which were
filled with various props, and stepped alone onto the stage.
Stephen strode confidently to the center where a solitary table
awaited for his first trick. While gas lighting existed in places
like New York City and Philadelphia, torches, candles, and
reflectors rimmed the stage to illuminate this room. Smoke from the
lighting added to the atmosphere of mystery and helped disguise the
accoutrements of his trade.

The spectators were faceless figures, barely visible
to the magician. But they were out there, pulsing with life and
buzzing with an undercurrent of excitement. They were like a
singular, massive organism reacting as one.

“Señors
and
señoritas
, my name is
Stephen Elliott, The Illusionist. I come before you tonight to
entertain and amaze. The laws of nature and the universe will be
defied. Watch closely…”

Four blue and white teacups already sat upside down
on the table. Stephen lifted each cup one by one to reveal nothing
hiding underneath. With fluid and dramatic movements, he showed the
audience a white ball. Placing it under the cup farthest to his
left, he repeated the action for the remaining three. He slid the
cups all around the table, mixing them up, then lined them up in a
row again, and stopped.

Pulling his wand out of his cape, he gave each
overturned cup a tap. He lifted the first cup…nothing under it…no
ball. Then he lifted the second cup. Nothing. The third cup, also
nothing under it. But when he lifted the last cup, all four balls
came rolling out, scattering onto the floor.

The audience clapped enthusiastically.

After a moment, Stephen held up a hand for quiet. He
suddenly gave a lurch, as if he were gagging, putting a hand to his
mouth. Out came one white ball, then another, and another, until
the balls were falling from his mouth like rain.

The people cheered. He bowed, smiling at their
enthusiasm.

For the next ninety minutes, the tricks he performed
became increasingly sophisticated. Sometimes Ruby assisted, and
other times he did them alone.

A Mexican guitar player stepped out from stage
right, positioned himself on a stool in front of the closed
curtain, and settled down to strum a melody. The music emerged
sweet, poignant, and low, a kind of magic in itself.

Energy surged through his muscles and bones. By the
end of a performance, he needed something new, something able to
astound his audience and leave them talking to each other. With
luck his reputation would precede him into his own country, and he
could continue this business he loved.

Ruby came up beside him, walking quietly through the
dimness. Her calm and familiar presence at his side comforted and
steadied him. He knew he could count on her to step on stage with a
ready prop or a whispered suggestion if a trick went awry. Taking
Ruby’s hand, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.