The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller (17 page)

Over the years, this mystery only served to
increase the illusionist’s popularity by great numbers, and at
around the age of thirty, he finally began to reap the rewards of
his hard, unexplainable work. The crowds grew larger and larger,
each performance greater and greater. Before long, the illusionist
could charge any amount of money he desired, and the stakes would
rise that much higher. It was around this time that Lucius decided
to give the audience what he believed they wanted—to be a part of
the magnificence.

The
gift
, as he referred to it, was
at first distributed in small numbers. Only the most deserving fans
got a taste of what the stage could offer. These people were
handpicked from the crowd before the show and told nothing of what
to expect, though most had followed Lucius from the beginning and
knew
exactly
what to expect. Usually at the end of the show,
Lucius would bring out these assistants and order them to perform
various activities on the stage.

In one particular show, Lucius had all of
the women take off their clothes and stand at the foot of the
stage, while the men, equal in numbers, were given scalpels bathed
in opiates and assigned a woman. The show was a sick form of
theatrical art.

Once the stage was set, and the participants
in place, the ceremony began. The men would brush the knife across
the surface of the woman’s flesh, being careful not to cut too
deep. There was no definitive pattern to follow or fashion to
carve; the mind was open to create whatever it desired. After a
moment, most of the women would dance in place, rubbing their hands
across the serrated flesh. While their level of euphoria increased,
the moans soon turned to cries. Then their hands, with the men’s,
would begin to caress their genitalia, inside and out. By this
time, if everything went well, the men would also be fully nude,
fully erect, and no longer holding their paintbrushes.

This group of assistants would then merge as
one in the center of the stage and share their deliverance with one
another. The orgy could last for hours depending on the night, and
the partakers. By the time the act reached the climax, many of the
women would be dead, leaving the men to finish the act on a
corpse.

Most of the crowd would leave the ceremony
unable to comprehend what they had witnessed. Sometimes days would
pass before anyone spoke a word of it, and even then, struggled
trying to explain it. Once more, Lucius had done his job; they
would be back next time, maybe even as a part of the show, with a
few unsuspecting friends to share in the experience.

Isaac set the book down for a second and
glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter to eleven. He
grabbed the book, turned off the lamp, and headed upstairs to his
bedroom. He tossed the book on the bed from the doorway then walked
across the hall to Amy’s room. She was in bed watching television
when her father opened the door.

“Are you going to let me go to school
tomorrow or what?”

Isaac shut the door and sat down next to his
daughter on the bed. “No,” he answered.

“Why not? I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “I don’t
know what you’re worried about.”

“What do you think I'm worried about?”

“Oh please,” said Amy. “Nothing’s gonna
happen. I'll be surrounded by people.”

“None of them me. You know most kids would
be happy to get out of school.”

“Yeah, but unlike most kids, I happen to
like school. I like being with my friends. Not cooped up in the
house all day.”

“Why don’t you call them? I never said you
couldn’t use the phone. But you’ll just have to wait till I get
this case worked out first before you can run off on your own.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. But I’m doing this for
your own safety.”

“Here we go again.”

“Look, you can cry and complain all you
want, but you’re just wasting your time. I’m not going to change my
mind.”

“I can’t believe this,” Amy pouted. “Why do
I have to be punished for mom’s death?”

“Shut up. Okay. This has absolutely nothing
to do with your mother.”

“What do you mean? I’m not stupid dad.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“This has everything to do with mom and you
know it." She watched her father bow his head and take a long
breath. “I’m not a baby anymore. I’m sixteen years old. All I’m
asking is that you trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Isaac said. He slowly
lifted his head up and glanced over at his daughter.

“I don’t blame you, dad. I never have. I
know in my heart that it wasn’t your fault. You’ve been the
greatest dad any kid could ask for. I wouldn’t trade you for any
mom in the entire world. When are you going to realize that?”

Isaac’s tough exterior had suddenly grown
paper-thin. Amy could see inside him when he couldn’t even see
inside himself.

“Let it go dad,” Amy cried. “Please, I’m
begging you. Just let it go.”

Isaac pulled her close to him. “I’m trying
sweetheart. God knows, I am.”

Isaac turned off the hallway light on the
way to his bedroom. He shut the door and glanced down at the black
book lying at the foot of the bed. He picked it up, opened the back
flap, and looked down at the picture of Ms. Maples. Her beauty was
truly breathtaking, and even though the picture was many years old,
Isaac could see that age only ripened her beauty.

He set down the book and walked across the
room to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror for a
minute, rubbing the scar on his chest, and then shaved his face.
After he was done, he stripped down to his boxers. Then he grabbed
the black book, sat up in bed, and removed the folded dollar
bill.

From
The Immortal (pg. 42)

Little is on record about Lucius’s birth
parents. His mother and father were said to be of a modest
upbringing, only caring for Lucius until the age of ten when they
vanished one night never to be seen or heard from again, leaving
their only child to face the growing world and all its great
triumphs and troubles alone.

Early on, many of the townsfolk believed
that Lucius’s parents had left the country in search of riches, and
that they had no doubt run into trouble along the way, excusing
their lack of return. Although much later (after Lucius had
received notoriety from his critics), others came to believe that
it was not the fear of raising Lucius that scared them away but the
boy himself. Whatever the truth may be, this single event seemed to
affect Lucius more than he would ever know, or ever come to admit,
and he was never said to speak of them.

By the time Lucius turned forty, he had
grown tired of the traveling circus and longed to find a way to
bring the people to him, and being that he was now a rather wealthy
man, all the extremities his mind could desire—to no extent, were
easily within reach.

It was said that when he was a child, Lucius
dreamed of a large sanctuary in the hills. Over the course of the
next few years, years mainly spent persuading his followers for
more and more donations, the childhood dream inched closer to
reality.

Isaac stopped reading to gaze upon the photo
of the mansion at the bottom of the page and continued at the top
of the next.

Thus, in the winter of 1887, after a long
tour of the southeastern states, Lucius finally made it back to his
hometown of Elmwood. The illusionist was pleased with the progress
of the estate. Every piece was falling into place, and much like a
well-constructed illusion, no one expected a thing. The child in
him had died long ago, as did the sentiment of the dream, all that
remained was an older man tired of entertaining and ready to be
entertained. This palace would be his final resting place, a place
where his every impulse could be satisfied, every taste multiplied,
and every sensation caressed. Lucius called himself immortal, and
he believed it.

Just before the completion of the estate,
Lucius put on a show outside of Planket, a small farming village 40
miles west of Elmwood. It was ideally a modest show considering his
popularity. However, it was at this show where he met Maria Overa,
the woman who would soon become his wife.

Maria was a country girl, growing up on the
family farm. She was quite a bit younger than Lucius, but that
didn’t sway her decision to leave the family and the farm and run
away from the simple life, if anything it was a blessing. In his
hands, she would be well taken care of. Lucius wasn’t like any
other man she had ever met. He listened to her when no one else
seemed to care. He didn’t argue, chastise, or suggest a solution,
just listened. His heart was open to her and she dove in head
first, with a chest unburdened.

Lucius offered safety, not with his mouth,
but with his heart. He brought handfuls of change, more than she
could carry, but his love for her was as clear on the horizon as a
golden sunrise, lifting her fears away, and she would be by his
side until death part them.

Chapter
Fourteen

1

Isaac woke early with a throbbing headache.
At first glance, the empty pot of coffee sitting on the bedside
table was easy to blame. He had stayed up late, much later than he
had wanted. The little black book was like a current that pushed
him further and further away from reality with every page that
passed, and even after he closed the book, as he laid in the silent
darkness staring at the ceiling, the flood it brought continued to
apply more and more pressure. The time of judgment drew near, no
crafty amount of detective work could stop the inevitable, and the
pain in his head was more than enough proof. No amount of pills
would ease it.

Amy lay in bed thinking about the argument
she’d had with her father the previous night; how he had curled up
into a tight ball at just the mention of her mother’s death. He had
hardly ever spoken of that night before and only when she had asked
questions.

For many years, Amy felt as though something
was missing in her life. In her early teens, she often blamed this
emptiness on her mother.
Why aren’t you here for me?
It was
an easy way to escape dealing with her problems. Many times, she
would wake up in the middle of the night crying out for something
that just wasn’t there. But last night, as her father opened up
from his shell, she could feel the emptiness within him, and she no
longer felt alone. She had shared his emptiness and now all the
pain and tears made sense.

The guilt her father felt was no doubt
unbearable, but how deep was the hole of emptiness and how long
would it take for him to climb out? Even after the traumatic events
of the other night, lying in bed reflecting on her life, Amy felt
at peace with herself and with her mother. The feeling of emptiness
was gone. Now she wished her father would find that peace as well.
Everything happens for a reason and there doesn’t have to be
someone to blame, however, often forgiveness can be easy to give
others and difficult to give yourself.

Isaac scanned the refrigerator for any
breakfast related food but only came up with one egg and a couple
of dried out slices of bacon. He tossed the bacon out and removed
the single egg from the foam carton, gently placing it on the
kitchen counter so it wouldn’t roll off.

The egg didn’t look all that appetizing but
with so little a selection, it was better than nothing. Maybe an
egg and a few slices of toast could tide him over for a while, at
least until Amy got up. Later, they could get groceries at the
store just around the corner.

The egg was almost done frying before Isaac
realized he would have to forget about the other half of the meal.
A loaf of bread was just another item to add to the already lengthy
grocery list compiling in his head. He removed the egg from the
burner and turned the knob to off.

Amy entered the kitchen. “Did you feel bad
for not letting me go to school today so you decided to cook me
breakfast?”

Isaac shook his head and smiled. “Good luck
getting breakfast, that right there is the last egg,” he said,
pointing down at the stove. “And to answer your first question, no,
I don’t feel bad.”

“I know, Dad,” said Amy. “I was just teasing
you.”

Isaac flipped the egg from the pan to the
plate. “Well, at least it’s good to see you’re not still mad at
me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“For snapping at you last night.”

“No, I wasn’t mad at you then and I’m not
mad at you now. It’s just sometimes...I don't know."

“Sometimes I don’t give you enough space,
right? I go out of my way to protect you.”

“I know you have your reasons.”

“No, you’re right. I am overprotective, and
I do have my reasons. But that doesn’t make those reasons
right.”

Even with sixteen years of experience, being
a good father was still the toughest job.

“Why don’t we go out for breakfast? I’ll let
you pay.”

Isaac smirked. “I bet you would.”

“Please,” Amy pleaded, grinning deviously up
at her father. It was a look only a daughter could give and a
father could not ignore. He had a sweet spot and she knew exactly
where it was.

“Well,” said Isaac, turning to look down at
the plate next to him on the counter. It was an easy decision to
make; in fact, he had already made it, the thought of choking down
a cold scrambled egg only made it easier. “Okay, get ready.”

“Sweet.”

Isaac pointed down at the plate of cold
eggs. “You didn’t really think I was going to eat that, did you?”
He snatched the plate from the counter and watched the eggs roll
off into the trash.

Bye-bye.

2

Isaac had managed, with a little help from
his daughter, to keep his mind off of the case and
The
Immortal
for most of the morning. Breakfast was a good idea, it
gave him a chance to relax and spend some quality time with Amy.
Ever since her meeting with the deputy a few nights ago, he could
sense that she needed it, and he needed it, too. A vacation still
sounded nice, but for now it would have to wait. Amy had a junior
year to finish, and Isaac still had a case to close, as best he
could.