Sleeping Beauty and the Demon (3 page)

Goosebumps sprang up on her arms as she held the music box under the gas lamp on the wall.

She turned it over and studied the inscription on its underside.

Happy birthday, Rose. I count the hours until we meet again ~ Dragomir
.

“Where did this come from?” Rose’s cheeks warmed.

“It was lying on your bed just now,” Olivia replied. “I went upstairs to grab a shawl and I saw it.”

Alarm and excitement swept through Rose. “Dragomir Starkov was in my home?”

“Apparently. There is something very frightening about that man. How does he know where you live?”

Rose shook her head, as if in a daze.

“From the look in his eyes,” Olivia continued, “he wants to make you his—at any cost. I don’t trust him, and neither should you.”

Rose lowered her voice. “Olivia, I don’t think I can stay away from him.”

“You have to!”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hypnotized me tonight. It’s as though I’m at his beck and call.”

“That’s nonsense,” Olivia said firmly. Pausing, she looked around the foyer. “No one else saw the music box. Do you want me to dispose of it?”

“No!” Rose clutched the memento to her chest.

“Very well. Do as you please. But I think you’re making a mistake.”

Olivia stormed off, leaving Rose alone in the dim foyer.
Do I dare go back to the Sunshine Theater?

Strangely, she didn’t feel as if she had a choice.

CHAPTER 4

R
ose re-traced her steps to the theater the next night. She could hardly wait to see Dragomir Starkov again. Unfortunately, she’d been forced to lie in order to get out of the house.

I’m supposed to be visiting Widow Greenburg
, she considered during the streetcar ride. Rose felt guilty, but she couldn’t stand missing out on anything. In fact, she’d always been curious to a fault. From the time she peeked into her schoolmaster’s grade book, to the time her adoptive father caught her opening her largest Christmas gift late at night, her inquisitiveness had gotten her into trouble more than once.

As she strode up to the façade of the Sunshine Theater, her mind wandered to the trick the illusionist had performed on her. One minute she was levitating, the next she was inside that musty cabinet. And she had no idea how the ruse was accomplished.

Shaking her head, Rose purchased a ticket and ducked inside the venue. Maybe it hadn’t been a trick. Maybe, just maybe, it had been magic in its purest form.

She took her seat in the last row of the auditorium and watched the other seats fill up. Both shows she’d attended were standing room only, so it seemed Mr. Starkov was doing very well professionally. Still, the rumors flying around about him were sinister. More and more, people were claiming he drew his powers from black magic.

Ominous music threaded throughout the theater. Suddenly, Rose wished Olivia had accompanied her. While the chatter subsided, she envisioned the marquee poster she’d passed in the lobby. It bore Dragomir’s captivating image, complete with his piercing blue-green eyes, wavy brown hair, and sensual mouth topped by a thin mustache.

The tagline she’d read on the poster replayed in her mind:
I have one secret that explains everything I do. I challenge you to discover it.

Rose could almost feel the magician’s warm breath on her face. Her heart fluttered. The curtains parted and a sense of danger replaced her girlish excitement. She nearly rushed out of the theater—until Dragomir appeared.

She slouched in her seat as she watched his first few tricks. Nervously, she rubbed her fingertips over the necklace Patrick had given her. Her thoughts turned to the Egyptian amulet resting beneath her blouse and her cheeks grew hot to the touch.

Dragomir performed an hour’s worth of amazing conjures—enough to convince Rose that he was capable of sending a compelling force her way. The hold he had over her frightened and thrilled her at the same time. And as the show came to an end, she found herself wanting to lock eyes with his dark gaze again.

Rose leaned forward in her seat, her pulse pounding wildly. Dapper in his impeccably-cut tuxedo and well-oiled hairstyle, Dragomir was about to perform his final illusion. The gaslights flickered. The entire audience sat motionless.

In preparation, the magician removed his black tuxedo jacket, giving Rose a view of his broad shoulders and slim waist. “Ladies and gentleman,” he said in his trademark Romanian accent. “As many of you may know, I always close my show with my grandest illusion. But what you may not know is that I enjoy doing the unexpected. Tonight I’d like to perform something with the help of an unsuspecting audience member. This illusion has been inspired by my fascination with the human body—which we all agree is a material substance.
But in my world, it’s a substance that can be transcended.”

The magician paused, his eyes darting around the hushed theater. “I call this illusion the ‘bait and switch.’ ”

Rose grasped the arms of her seat tightly.

“As I said, I need a volunteer for this trick. A
female
volunteer.” Half a dozen hands shot up at Dragomir’s request. Meanwhile, Rose forced herself to relax in her seat. There was no way the illusionist could know she was here.

He continued to peer at the audience. Silence enveloped the auditorium as Rose clutched the arms of her seat.
Will I be disappointed if he doesn’t call my name?

“I sense that a friend of mine is in attendance tonight. A rare beauty by the name of Rose Carlisle.”

Rose gasped.
How did he know?

Dragomir moved forward. “I see you in the back row, Rose. Will you please join me onstage?”

Although she was incredibly nervous, she stood and made her way down the dipping center aisle. Meanwhile, the audience applauded politely. Trance-like, she took his hand once she reached the stage and followed him to a cage with metal bars, situated at stage left.

The sultry illusionist put his lips to her ear before they turned to face the audience. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” She enjoyed a surge of anticipation. Then she glanced at Dragomir’s intriguing profile. He was even more dashing than she remembered. His chiseled cheekbones created intricate curves on his otherwise smooth face, while an incredible set of curled lashes fringed the pools of his eyes. And the way his mustache set off his full lips nearly made her giddy.

Everything about him oozed elegance and sophistication. She felt like moldable clay in his able hands . . . willing to do whatever he asked. And she admitted to herself that he would intrigue her until the day the world stopped spinning.

“Rose, would you please step into the cage? And no, I will not keep you there to be gawked at like a zoo animal. You’re much too lovely for that.”

Only a mild stream of laughter rippled through the theater. There seemed to be a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. Rose suspected that tension harkened back to the belief that Dragomir the Magnificent’s illusions were becoming increasingly dangerous.

Before she stepped into the cage, her gaze wandered to the back of the theater. No one from the Marconi family had followed her here and Patrick was nowhere to be seen. She was all alone—and if she perished during the magic trick she’d leave behind a mystery as to her whereabouts.

Dragomir asked her a second time to step into the cage. Obediently, she lifted her skirts and cooperated. Next, the magician reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew an ornate key. He locked her inside the metal cage, then handed the key to his assistant, Katherine. The brunette gave Rose a quick sneer before Dragomir climbed onto a ladder and draped the entire cage with a large black cloth.

“Are you still there, Rose?” he asked in an authoritative voice.

“Yes, I’m here,” she assured him, as fright streamed through her veins.

“Excellent. Now Katherine will lock me inside another cage on the opposite side of the stage.”

Rose couldn’t see anything. Therefore she had to rely on her hearing. She listened as Dragomir was being imprisoned. Then she heard Katherine drop a black cloth over his makeshift jail.

“I present to you the key that has imprisoned both participants of this magic act,” Katherine’s voice reached Rose. Rose presumed Drago’s assistant was holding the object up. “Are you all right, Miss Carlisle?”

“Yes,” she answered, certain that her voice sounded muffled behind the black cloth.

“Very good,” Katherine replied. “To let you know, Miss Carlisle, I’m placing the key inside a tin box that I will set on a table located between the two cages.” She paused. “Can you hear me, Dragomir the Magnificent?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” Katherine said. “On the count of three, ladies and gentlemen, I will reveal the contents of Miss Carlisle’s cage while a crew member reveals the contents of Dragomir Starkov’s cage.”

Sucking in a deep breath she cried, “One . . . two . . . three!”

Both drapes were pulled aside—proving that Rose and Dragomir had switched places! Rose’s heart drummed. She had no recollection of ever leaving her original cage, let alone journeying to the other one. The trick was nothing short of astounding.

While the crowd applauded furiously, Katherine plucked the tin box off the prop table and revealed its lack of contents. Then, smiling victoriously, Dragomir removed something from his other trouser pocket. It was the very key that had been used to lock both participants in their cages! He reached his arm through the spacious bars, put the key to the lock and freed himself. Next, he moved quickly to Rose’s cage and unlocked her door as well.

Dragomir kissed Rose’s hand before he encouraged her to take a step forward. “Ladies and gentlemen . . . the ravishing Miss Carlisle!”

She bowed sheepishly. As she accepted his hand once more, he stepped closer to her. “Meet me after the show,” he whispered. His intoxicating voice made her heady. “It would honor me.”

Dropping her hand from his, she scurried back to her seat, enduring comments such as: “She must be part of the show.” “I saw him bring her onstage before.” “An audience member is always in on the trick!” And, “There must be a trap door beneath both cages!”

But Rose knew better. She could attest that the stage under the cage was as solid as a rock—and that there had been no means of escape.

As she slid into her seat, the house lights illuminated. She sat frozen for a moment before she gathered her belongings. As she did so, she glanced at the man seated next to her . . . a man who was writing zealously in a small notepad.

“Are you a reporter?” Rose asked politely while the theater emptied.

The strongly-built man, whose face was marred with pockmarks, nodded. “I am. Richard Bellum’s the name. And tomorrow morning, when this story hits
The Gotham Times
, I’ll bet nobody will be able to get a ticket to see Dragomir the Magnificent.”

“He was fabulous, wasn’t he?” She blushed.

Richard Bellum smiled as he secured his hat. “If you care to read about yourself in the morning, Miss Carlisle, be my guest. For your information, Mr. Starkov’s knowledge of your presence was one of the highlights of the show. Your look of surprise was too spontaneous to fake.”

“Please don’t put my name in the paper,” she pleaded.

“Too late. All these people have seen you. And since the trick you participated in was the best of the night, other reporters will be writing about you, too.” He paused. “For what it’s worth, Starkov has obviously taken a fancy to you.”

“I don’t know about that, Mr. Bellum.” She paused. “But I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to be a journalist.”

“You have, have you?” The reporter shot her a quizzical look. “Do you have any experience?”

Because she’d been lying a great deal lately, she decided to be honest. “No.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re always looking for able-minded reporters at
The Gotham Times
—and we’re even open to pioneering females joining the profession.”

“Really?” Rose asked excitedly.

“I could put in a good word for you if you come around tomorrow. Here’s my card.”

The stout man handed it over, then disappeared into the crowd.

For Rose, the thrill of making a connection was short-lived because Olivia appeared, red-faced. “Rose Emily Carlisle. What the devil are you doing here?”

“How did you know I was here?” Rose asked.

Olivia arched an eyebrow.

“All right. I would have looked for me here, too.”

“Who were you talking to just now?” Olivia accompanied her into the lobby.

“A newspaper reporter. According to him, my name will be front and center in
The Gotham Times
tomorrow morning . . . and I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”

“How do you get yourself into these situations?” Olivia shook her head.

“What am I going to do?”

Olivia put a finger to her chin. “Since we can’t afford to buy up all the papers in the city, I suppose you’re going to have to tell Papa the truth.”

Rose hung the handle of her umbrella on her wrist. “I guess you’re right. And don’t worry. When I get home I’ll do all the talking.”

“Let’s go.” Olivia turned toward the theater’s front doors but Rose stopped her.

“Wait,” she said. “Dragomir asked me to meet him after the show.”

“He
what
?”

“Shh! Do you think I ought to?”

“Certainly not,” Olivia huffed as she stuffed a torn ticket stub into her handbag. “After all, you’re practically going steady with Patrick.”

“Practically—but not officially. Meeting Mr. Starkov will be harmless.”

“I hardly recognize you lately.” Olivia frowned. “Your behavior—”

“Please go ahead without me.” Rose interrupted.

“I don’t know . . .”

“I swear I’ll be fine.”

Olivia lowered her tone before she departed. “I’ll go. But remember what I always tell you: You are a beautiful girl, Rose. A girl any man could lose his head over. Be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

Standing alone in the vacated lobby, Rose rubbed her hands together nervously. Olivia was right. Her behavior was bizarre—and now that she was standing here with no companion or chaperone, apprehension over accepting Dragomir’s invitation swelled inside her.