The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller (18 page)

Nevertheless, afternoon came fast, and it
seemed the harder Isaac tried to ignore the book, the more he
wanted to pick it up. Finally, at a quarter past one, he gave in to
the temptation and was again washed away by the current.

From
The Immortal (pg. 76)

The twelve iron cells formed a U around the
study, four per section. The steel locks on the doors were
identical, so it would have only taken one person with a key to
free all twelve prisoners. Unfortunately, Lucius was the only
person, prior to his death, that knew of the chambers below the
mansion. He had the only key.

It was possible, however, that Maria could
have found out about her husband's secret underworld and kept her
knowledge unknown to him, even though she was never allowed to be a
witness to any of his shows. It was also equally possible that at
some point Lucius could have pulled this knowledge from her, or
simply seen it in her, making her unexplainable death much easier
to explain. These are just theories though, as to this day Maria’s
death still remains a mystery.

There were four oil lamps hung per hall,
serving as the only light outside of the study. The study was
believed to be a room Lucius specifically built to gain secret
entrance into the cellar, and because of its unique position in the
chamber, it allowed Lucius an easy view of any one of the prisoners
at any given time.

The cells were made up of three walls, a set
of iron bars, and a cement floor. There were no beds, sinks,
toilets, or any other necessity of a modern prison. If a prisoner
had to use the bathroom, they would have no choice but to use the
floor, then have no choice later but to sleep on it. No doubt, the
stench in the chamber could become sickening, and it’s unlikely
that Lucius would clean up after the slaves. Lucius liked to keep
his prisoners as weak as possible, which also meant very little
food, anything to better further his studies.

It wouldn’t be hard to imagine that for the
men and women who did time in the prison, death would come as an
answered prayer, an escape from the hell they had become buried in.
Of course, each of their deaths is what Lucius ultimately wanted
too, but he wanted their death to be of
his
will. So, he
watched each of them very carefully and made sure to give the gift
just before God could step in his way. More often than not, Lucius
was the perfect timekeeper, but every now and then God would reach
down from above and manage to snatch one from the illusionist’s
arms.

The large room in the center of the first
floor, often referred to as the sanctuary, was where Lucius would
give the gift to the prisoners when they were ready. The sanctuary
was a large room, resembling many a church, with a ceiling that
slanted upward from the large double doors at the entrance to the
stage at the rear. There were many rows of seats, aligned much like
pews, with a red-carpeted aisle running down the center. A couple
of small steps at the foot of the first row marked the beginning of
the stage. There were no doors at the left and right of the stage,
only an entrance from the back shielded by a long red curtain.
Lucius would always enter and leave the stage from the rear, and it
was in this backstage area that he would secretly bring the
prisoners up, chained together at their necks, only to drag their
decaying bodies across the hardwood floor for the shows finale.

The finale was made up of one part torture,
one part ritualistic burning. Many have suggested that Lucius would
call upon volunteers from the audience to assist in torturing the
prisoners, then immediately following the show, these willing
participants would end up occupying the cell of one of the victims
they’d helped torture. It could have been likely that the person
you sat by one week could be the same person you punished the
next—a cycle that saw no end.

If this is the case then it wouldn’t be hard
to deny sympathy for any one of the prisoners, indeed, you reap
what you sow. Yet, Lucius earned his fame off the blood of his
followers. Many were so blinded by his words and so enthralled by
his presence, they failed to see what was happening right in front
of them. The thin gray bodies chained together on stage weren’t
real, just like the many other unexplainable things they had
witnessed throughout the show, to them these bodies were just
another illusion.

3

By six o’clock, the sun had dipped down
below the horizon. The sky wasn’t dark yet, no gloomy overcast hung
above, but Isaac could feel it coming. The day was too quiet,
especially considering the chaos of the week. The storm was on its
way, slowly positioning itself for an attack, preparing to end the
silence. Isaac knew this, he would have bet his life on it. He
couldn’t explain how or why he knew, he just
knew.
The storm
was in him—a part of him, and it would always be around with its
eye peering down from above.

Always.

Isaac had sent Amy out for groceries a half
an hour earlier. Together they had devised a list of food long
enough to hopefully last them through the better part of the month.
In many ways, he felt nervous sending her out alone.

It was her idea.

He paced the house wondering if she was all
right, playing the part of the overprotective father perfectly.
Why wasn’t she home yet?
He wondered.
What’s taking so
long?
Every time he heard a car go by outside, he would peer
through the window hoping to see her Civic pulling into the
driveway. He had called her cell, twice, but she didn't answer.
Deep inside Isaac knew he was overreacting, but it was a feeling he
could not control, or even begin to understand. The feeling came on
its own and it would leave on its own, whether he approved or
not.

Not long after Isaac built up the courage to
pry himself from the window to the couch, the doorbell rang. He was
pleasantly surprised by the person standing on the other side.

“Hey,” said Ms. Maples. “I thought I would
stop by and see how you're holding up.”

“Okay.” said Isaac, raising his eyebrows.
“Come on in.” He stepped out of the way and offered her
entrance.

Virginia took a seat on the couch.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“What do you have?” She looked up at Isaac
hovering over her like a two hundred pound puppy.

“Water, I think.”

Virginia smiled. “Bottled water?”

“Tap. Although I might be able to dig up
some stale coffee.” Isaac sat down next to her on the couch. “I’m
sorry,” he said. “We’ve been surviving on twigs for the last week.
I’ve been so busy lately. I sent Amy out a while ago to get
groceries.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s no
problem.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I wasn’t even thirsty.” She glanced down at
The Immortal
sitting on the coffee table. “So, have you
started reading the book?”

“Yeah, actually I’m almost done.”

“Really? What do you think?

“I must say it's very interesting,” said
Isaac. “And disturbing. It looks like I have my hands full.”

“We have our hands full," Virginia
corrected. "I’m willing to help you all the way."

"I appreciate that."

“Have you heard anything since last
night?”

“No, not a word. It couldn’t have just
stopped. I know it. Sadly, all we can do is wait."

“Waiting can be one of the hardest things to
do.”

“Especially when you know exactly what
you’re waiting for.”

Suddenly, Isaac felt the need to check the
window again.

Virginia stood up. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t
respond, or even move. “Isaac, is everything all right?”

After a moment, Isaac dropped the curtain
and turned back around toward Virginia. “Yeah,” he said.
“Everything is fine. Just wondering where Amy is, that’s all.” He
headed into the kitchen.

Virginia followed behind him. “Was she
supposed to be home by now?” She watched Isaac grab a glass from
the top cupboard and fill it with water from the sink.

“No, not really.”

Virginia sat down at the kitchen table.
“You’re just worried, huh?”

Isaac sat down across from Virginia at the
table. He took a small sip from the glass then smiled and held it
out in front of him. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Yeah,” Virginia chuckled. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

“You know it’s okay to be worried.”

“Is that right?”

“It just means that you’re a good father.
There isn’t many left in the world today.”

“I guess we’re an endangered species.”

“You could say that. I wish I had a father
like you growing up. I wish my father worried about me for
once.”

“When did I say I was worried?”

“You didn’t have to,” said Virginia. “I can
tell.”

Isaac sighed. “It’s that clear, huh?” He
quickly finished off the glass of water. “Well, I guess I can’t
hide anything from you.”

Less than five minutes later the front door
swung open.

Isaac and Virginia both looked over as Amy
sauntered into the house carrying a few plastic bags in each hand.
She dropped them on the tile floor next to the door and peered into
the kitchen at her father. Then she noticed the woman sitting at
the other side of the table. “I’m home.”

Isaac and Virginia both got up from the
table and walked into the living room.

“Hi,” Amy said to her father’s mysterious
lady friend.

“We haven’t met. Amy, right? My names
Virginia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amy said, still stunned
to have come home and found her father with a female visitor. All
her life she had never seen him alone with anyone of the opposite
sex that wasn’t either an officer or a relative. He had never even
gone out on a date. “There’s more in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” said Isaac.

Virginia rushed out the door. “Let me help
you.”

Amy brought the bags into the kitchen and
began putting the groceries away. Isaac and Virginia came back in a
minute later with the rest of the bags. After, Virginia headed into
the living room while Isaac and his daughter put away the remainder
of the food.

“What’s the deal, Dad?” Amy whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I’m not stupid. Who’s the
woman?”

“She’s a friend.”

“When did you meet her?”

“I met her yesterday,” he said. “Remember, I
told you I was going to be having a visitor? Well, she was the
visitor.”

“So what is she doing here now?”

"She's helping with the case."

Amy laughed, balled up the empty plastic
bags, and threw them on to the pantry floor.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

Amy walked over and looked up at her father.
She added a curious look in her eyes to go with the smile on her
face. “You like her,” she whispered. “Don’t you?”

Isaac squinted his eyes down in disgust.
“What?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” said Amy. “She’s really
pretty. You’ve got my permission.”

“I’ve got your permission. Permission to do
what?”

“Really, I’m happy for you.”

“Would you please fill me in on what the
hell you are talking about,” Isaac said, in a low, angry tone.

Amy put her hand up on her father's
shoulder. “The woman sitting in the living room. Your so called
visitor
from last night. You like her.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“I don’t know,” Amy said. “Just a hunch. Why
don’t you take her out for dinner? I can fend for myself here. We
have food now.”

“I’m not taking anyone out on a date,” Isaac
said. The idea of a date sounded childish to him. He was too old
for dating; those years had passed long ago. “Do you
understand?”

“Why not?” Amy asked. “I think it would be
good for you.”

“I don’t care,” Isaac groaned.
Why did he
ever ask why she was laughing?
“Have you forgotten about your
mother?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten about mom,” Amy
said. “But she has nothing to do with this. It's not like I’m
looking for a mom. I just think one harmless date would be good for
you. I’m tired of you moping around the house.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one
always moping around the house.”

“Yeah, but you won’t let me date,” said Amy.
“If you did then I wouldn’t mope around the house as much.”

Isaac wiped away the sweat from his
forehead. “This is ridiculous.”

“Just take her out for dinner,” Amy pleaded.
“If you’re not going to do it for yourself then do it for me.”

“Do it for you?”

“Do it because I want you to.”

Isaac stood still for a moment and gazed
across the kitchen at his daughter. Her passion was admirable. Her
mother had that kind of unrelenting passion. The whole idea of a
date, even a dinner date, sounded beyond silly to him, however, Amy
was right about one thing, Ms. Maples was very attractive.

“How do you know she would even want to go
out to dinner with me?”

“Well, you’re just going to have to ask her.
Don’t be shy.”

“No, not happening,” said Isaac. “This is
all a bad idea.”

“Okay, it was just a thought.”

Isaac bowed his head for a second then:
“Fine, I’ll ask her.” A big smile lit up his daughters face. Isaac
took a deep breath and walked out of the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Virginia asked.

Isaac strolled into the living room. “This
may sound funny,” he said. “But would you like to have dinner with
me tonight?” He looked back at Amy still smiling at him from the
kitchen. “Just the two of us.”

“A date?”

He could hear Amy trying not to laugh in the
kitchen. “No, not a date. Definitely not a date.”

Virginia sat up and leaned closer. “Am I
paying for myself then?”

“If you want,” Isaac said. “But not a
date.”