Two
Eve
Heat scorches my face as every eye lands on me. Billie is dead. A dead woman walking. She smirks at me; whispers, “He’s hot”; and pushes me forward.
I shake my head. “No, really, I can’t—”
“Please.” The magician says it flatly, like a command, and gestures to the stage.
“Go on,” Billie hisses.
Everyone is waiting for me to move. The tension becomes too much, and I shuffle forward, grateful for my sensible shoes. Knowing my luck, I’ll trip over a chair leg and go ass over tea kettle in front of everyone.
If I get lucky, maybe I’ll knock myself out and have a nice, relaxing ride to the hospital to look forward to instead of whatever hell awaits onstage. For a single tempting moment, I contemplate throwing myself to the floor and faking an injury.
No.
Stupid.
How bad can it be? He’ll ask me to pick a card or flip a coin or something. I take a deep breath and pick up the pace .
The magician holds out a hand to help me onstage. He grips me with strong, decisive fingers, and keeps the contact for a moment longer than necessary. I look from our hands to his face, and something deep in my chest gives an anxious lurch at his expression. Amusement, but with something predatory behind it.
“Welcome onstage, Miss—”
I jump at his loud, showman-like voice. Why? Was I expecting him to whisper? He pauses, clearly waiting for me to supply my name.
“Evelyn,” I blurt. “Eve for short.”
Why did I add that? I wait for him to make the same comment almost everyone does, something about the garden of Eden and original sin or a joke about an apple. I’ve heard them all so many times that the phony smile and laugh is pretty much a reflex.
Instead, he just nods. “I’m Gabriel. Pleased to meet you. So, what birthday are you celebrating today?”
Billie is definitely dead. “Twenty.” I remember just in time. “.”
His eyebrow raises slightly. Did he hear my slipup? Will he call the doorman to have us thrown out? It might be preferable.
“Well, let’s make it a birthday to remember. How do you feel about levitating?”
It’s hard not to roll my eyes. Do people still fall for these corny tricks? I’ve seen women floating onstage on old TV magic shows. What will he do? Lift me up on wires and pretend he’s doing it all with the power of his mind?
“Eve?”
“I’ve seen that trick done before.”
His lip curls up. “Have you now? This might be a little different. Come this way. ”
I follow him across the stage, to a mound covered by a white cloth. He whisks it away, and I stare at the structure beneath it. It reminds me of a medical bed, a thin, person-sized platform on spindly legs with adjustable sections.
Thick buckled wrist and ankle straps dangle from the corners, like something from a horror movie about an insane asylum. What the heck? I take a half step back before I can stop myself.
“Please, examine it.”
I crouch to study the table, embarrassment melting into curiosity. I wave my hand under the table—it’s empty. No mirror or glass that could hide a mechanism. Standing, I run a hand over the corners, searching for anything that wires might hook onto. Nothing. Other than the straps, it’s totally smooth.
Gabriel watches me, then booms in his stage voice, “A thorough examination. What did you find?”
“Nothing.” I stare at the table, the only safe spot between his piercing eyes and the audience. “I can’t see how it’ll work.”’
“That’s the idea.” His words draw my gaze. His smile shows just a hint of white teeth. “Let me help you up.”
I eye the straps dubiously as Gabriel holds out his hand. “Are you going to fasten me to that thing?”
“Of course. For safety. I can’t guarantee a smooth flight, I’m afraid.”
Someone in the crowd lets out a high-pitched giggle, and I startle. For a moment, it felt like he and I were the only ones in the room. But no. I’m to be the star attraction. My banished anxiety surges in threefold, and my hand shakes as Gabriel takes it. He glances down at it and says in a quieter voice, “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of. ”
It’s less encouraging than it should be, combined with the flash of his dark eyes and the way his gaze flicks over my body, just once, before returning to my face.
Still. I need to know how this trick works. I can’t see a way, and ignorance always frustrates me. We never did Santa or the Tooth Fairy at home, but I couldn’t understand how other kids fell for the trick. Couldn’t they see it made no sense?
Even as an adult, though I understand people suspend their disbelief for the sake of fun, I’ve never been able to do it. If a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat, I want to know where it came from.
Gabriel’s hands drop to my waist, and I let out a little yelp as he boosts me onto the bed. Someone laughs in the crowd, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s Billie. Another black mark against her.
“Lie down on your back.” Gabriel’s voice, loud again for the crowd but with a low, hypnotic quality to it, resonates through my body. I obey, shifting so my head lies in the cupped rest. My ponytail makes the position awkward, and without even asking permission, Gabriel tilts my head forward and pulls the band out with a sharp tug, letting my long brown hair loose.
Ouch. I gape up at him now looming over me.
“Do you mind?” I manage, rubbing the sore spot on my head. “You could have asked me to do it.”
That predatory grin surfaces again, and he gently lifts my right hand and places it into the strap. “My way was more fun.”
I try to ignore the trickle of unease as he fastens me in place. First my hands. I tug on the straps experimentally, but there’s no give. Then he moves to my legs, and I have to fight to keep still as he pulls my leg to the side to secure the first ankle strap .
When he moves to the second strap, my heart pounds, blood and adrenaline surging through my body as he slides my legs apart.
That university will turn you into a slut.
My mom’s voice, naturally. A tight, bitter laugh almost surfaces at the thought. It’s something close to funny that this is the most access I’ve given a man to my body. A stage magician in a dingy bar, who has zero interest in me beyond his trick.
I swallow down my embarrassment at the position. Gabriel’s hand still rests on my ankle as he turns to address the crowd. “As you can see, she’s incapacitated by the straps. Some of you…” His fingers absently slide up my leg, resting on my calf. “...may have seen the old-fashioned version of this trick, where the levitating lady is covered by a sheet?”
Murmurs of assent come from the crowd. His fingers move higher, to the inside of my knee, where they move in distracting circles. Tingles light up my nerve endings, traveling straight up my thigh and into the place I try my best not to think about.
Does he know he’s doing it, or is it a nervous habit? He isn’t looking at me, focused on the crowd. “This version is a little different.”
He steps back, holding his hands out in a dramatic gesture. The bed beneath me warms, heat seeping through my thin top, deep into my bones. A slight shudder is my only warning before the bed jerks upward.
The crowd gasps, and I cry out, grateful now for the straps. I’d probably have sat up in shock and fallen right off the bed if they weren’t there. I turn to the side. At my best guess, I’m about a foot in the air. How? I strain my eyes, searching for hidden wires I might have missed. How is he doing it?
Gabriel moves round each corner of the bed, detaching the legs and holding them up for the crowd. Once they’re gone, the bed starts to spin, moving in a slow circle as the crowd chatters excitedly. My vision blurs with the motion, and I close my eyes to rest them.
“Who would like to slide a hoop over my Eve?”
My eyes snap open at Gabriel’s words. He holds up three metal rings, Hula-Hoop-sized. After a short, awkward silence, a few people come into view. One of them is Billie, of course. She grins at me as she takes one of the hoops and pulls on it, testing for hidden catches.
“It’s solid.” She leans down to whisper, “Like the bulge in his pants. I think he likes you.”
I give her the finger as best I can with my restrained hands and hiss, “Shut up.”
She laughs as she slides the hoop over my body. How? How is this possible? A strong magnet? No, anything that powerful would rip out jewelry and damage pacemakers. The heat at my back hasn’t lessened—if anything, it’s growing and my top sticks to my back as I arch it away.
strangers pass their hoops over me. One, a round-faced man stinking of cigarettes, leans uncomfortably close. “Is this a setup? You part of the act?”
“No. It’s crazy.”
He leans down even further, his breath washing over me. It’s warm, and carries the strong reek of onions. I turn away, lips clamped shut, until Gabriel pushes between us. “Move along now.”
The sharp command in his voice has the man jerking back, hands raised. “No problem, man. I was just asking her a couple of questions.”
Gabriel says nothing, just stares at the man, mouth in a tight line, as he walks away .
Once the stage clears, he turns back to the crowd. “I’m sure my glamorous assistant is anxious to be released. One moment.”
He works quickly, reattaching the legs to the table. With a dramatic flourish of his hand, the table lowers again, landing with a slight thump. The room erupts into applause and surprised murmurs. I don’t blame them. I hadn’t been expecting anything beyond basic card tricks either.
Maybe Gabriel is some world-famous performer slumming it in a bar? I’ve heard people do that sometimes, to try out new tricks and judge the reactions. But for this trick, the closeness is what made it so amazing. On a Vegas stage, forty rows back, it wouldn’t look nearly as impressive.
As the applause fades, Gabriel stares down at me and rests his hand on my arm restraint. He traces the sensitive skin on my wrist with his thumb, and I give an involuntary shudder. In a low voice, he says, “Thank you. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.”
I laugh. “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”
“Only the pretty ones.” He smiles as he sets to work unbuckling the restraints. “What did you think of the trick?”
“I loved it!” It comes out full fan-girl mode, and I moderate my enthusiasm to a tolerable level. “I’ve never seen anything like this. How do you do it?”
“It’ll cost you.”
“How much?”
His stage smile slips as he moves to my leg restraints. “More than I’d want you to give.”
“It’ll drive me crazy, not knowing.”
His bright stage manner returns, but it looks forced. “I’m sorry, but a magician never gives up his secrets. ”
He takes my hands in his and pulls me up to sit. Strong fingers wrap around mine, and it feels like safety. Not cloying, as Cole’s hands sometimes felt. He sighs before letting go of me. “Have a good night, Eve.”
With that, I’m dismissed.
The rest of the night passes in a blur as Billie pushes drink after drink into my hand. Gabriel doesn’t return to the stage, and after a while, I accept the fact he isn’t going to and call a ride home.
The next morning, head pounding, Billie’s wild shriek rips me from sleep. If I wasn’t already planning to kill her, that rude awakening would have sealed her fate. She bursts into my room, ignores my yell of protest, and dumps a box onto the bed.
Wrapped in bright blue packaging, it looks innocent enough, but something about it screams danger. I stare at it as though it’s an unexploded bomb.
“Read the fucking tag!”
I do so, hand trembling. In curly calligraphic script, it reads:
To my glamorous assistant. Enjoy your not-quite-birthday gift, little liar.