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Authors: Marina Myles
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with the devil.”
Her lungs hitched at the suggestion. Had the forces of black magic given Drago his seductive powers? She couldn’t fathom it.
“For heaven’s sake,” she said. “The Salem witch hunts have been over for centuries. Dragomir Starkov is a very talented magician. That’s all. And frankly I believe your ignorance is rearing its head along with your suspicions.”
“Do you?” he asked sourly. “How?”
“By speaking of things you haven’t seen first-hand.”
She knew from Patrick’s expression that she’d made a good point.
“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll take that as a challenge. I’ll accompany you to the show, then we can discuss Starkov’s viability.”
Olivia rushed into the room. “Two tickets just arrived.”
“Tickets?” Patrick echoed.
“Yes, a messenger handed me these.” She subsequently passed them to Patrick.
His face drained of color. “What the hell? They’re for Dragomir the Magnificent’s eight o’clock performance at the Sunshine Theater.”
Rose’s heart beat to an insane rhythm.
“How did he know we wanted to go?” Patrick clenched his jaw.
“Magic,” she replied softly.
Patrick and Rose said goodbye to the Marconis before departing for the auditorium. The windless, muggy night air pushed at them before they found themselves inside the Sunshine Theater. Patrons droned on excitedly about Drago’s astounding talents as Patrick located their seats in the second row. Stepping aside, he allowed Rose to shuffle across to seats B7 and B8.
Just before the curtain rose, Patrick glanced around. “All of these people are obviously under this man’s spell, just like you.”
A rousing overture signaled the start of the show, so Rose gave him a “Shh.” The heavy, burgundy curtains parted with a gentle sway and an empty stage was revealed. Just then, a familiar voice sounded from the rear of the theater.
Rose turned in her seat to see Drago moving gracefully down the center aisle. The audience gasped—then erupted into a chorus of confused murmurs.
“Ladies and gentleman, my name is Dragomir Starkov, better known as Dragomir the Magnificent. I’m beginning my show this way to prove an important point. We, as humans, should never expect the expected. Rather, we should free our minds and open them up to the possibility of what can be. Trust me. It makes for a more satisfying life.”
Once he reached the barrier of the stage, Drago trotted up the side staircase with tantalizing elegance. As she watched him, Rose couldn’t help but notice how his muscular legs flexed beneath his snug-fitting trousers and how the cut of his jacket emphasized his wide shoulders.
He made a very attractive figure on stage.
She glanced at Patrick to gather his impression of Drago—only to see him glowering.
“Why doesn’t he just get on with it?” He hissed without taking his eyes off the stage.
“It’s all part of the theatrical anticipation,” she whispered, “to prolong the wonderment of what he’ll do next.”
Patrick crossed his arms defiantly and watched the majority of the show with a scowl. When it came time for Drago’s final illusion, he looked as if he couldn’t wait to go home.
“Only one more trick,” Rose said gently.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Drago announced, “My lovely assistant, Katherine, will now wheel in the apparatus I require for my final illusion. This is a trick I haven’t practiced frequently, but I assure you it’s perfectly safe. You’ll know what I mean once you witness it.”
He did a tiny bow toward the crowd then turned his attention to Katherine. She positioned the twelve foot high, draped apparatus just behind him. With the flourish of a professional, Katherine whipped the red drape off the structure. Rose gasped. It was the guillotine she’d seen in Drago’s workshop!
“Please don’t ask me or Patrick to volunteer,” she murmured under her breath. But it was too late. Drago had already singled Patrick
Her lungs hitched at the suggestion. Had the forces of black magic given Drago his seductive powers? She couldn’t fathom it.
“For heaven’s sake,” she said. “The Salem witch hunts have been over for centuries. Dragomir Starkov is a very talented magician. That’s all. And frankly I believe your ignorance is rearing its head along with your suspicions.”
“Do you?” he asked sourly. “How?”
“By speaking of things you haven’t seen first-hand.”
She knew from Patrick’s expression that she’d made a good point.
“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll take that as a challenge. I’ll accompany you to the show, then we can discuss Starkov’s viability.”
Olivia rushed into the room. “Two tickets just arrived.”
“Tickets?” Patrick echoed.
“Yes, a messenger handed me these.” She subsequently passed them to Patrick.
His face drained of color. “What the hell? They’re for Dragomir the Magnificent’s eight o’clock performance at the Sunshine Theater.”
Rose’s heart beat to an insane rhythm.
“How did he know we wanted to go?” Patrick clenched his jaw.
“Magic,” she replied softly.
Patrick and Rose said goodbye to the Marconis before departing for the auditorium. The windless, muggy night air pushed at them before they found themselves inside the Sunshine Theater. Patrons droned on excitedly about Drago’s astounding talents as Patrick located their seats in the second row. Stepping aside, he allowed Rose to shuffle across to seats B7 and B8.
Just before the curtain rose, Patrick glanced around. “All of these people are obviously under this man’s spell, just like you.”
A rousing overture signaled the start of the show, so Rose gave him a “Shh.” The heavy, burgundy curtains parted with a gentle sway and an empty stage was revealed. Just then, a familiar voice sounded from the rear of the theater.
Rose turned in her seat to see Drago moving gracefully down the center aisle. The audience gasped—then erupted into a chorus of confused murmurs.
“Ladies and gentleman, my name is Dragomir Starkov, better known as Dragomir the Magnificent. I’m beginning my show this way to prove an important point. We, as humans, should never expect the expected. Rather, we should free our minds and open them up to the possibility of what can be. Trust me. It makes for a more satisfying life.”
Once he reached the barrier of the stage, Drago trotted up the side staircase with tantalizing elegance. As she watched him, Rose couldn’t help but notice how his muscular legs flexed beneath his snug-fitting trousers and how the cut of his jacket emphasized his wide shoulders.
He made a very attractive figure on stage.
She glanced at Patrick to gather his impression of Drago—only to see him glowering.
“Why doesn’t he just get on with it?” He hissed without taking his eyes off the stage.
“It’s all part of the theatrical anticipation,” she whispered, “to prolong the wonderment of what he’ll do next.”
Patrick crossed his arms defiantly and watched the majority of the show with a scowl. When it came time for Drago’s final illusion, he looked as if he couldn’t wait to go home.
“Only one more trick,” Rose said gently.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Drago announced, “My lovely assistant, Katherine, will now wheel in the apparatus I require for my final illusion. This is a trick I haven’t practiced frequently, but I assure you it’s perfectly safe. You’ll know what I mean once you witness it.”
He did a tiny bow toward the crowd then turned his attention to Katherine. She positioned the twelve foot high, draped apparatus just behind him. With the flourish of a professional, Katherine whipped the red drape off the structure. Rose gasped. It was the guillotine she’d seen in Drago’s workshop!
“Please don’t ask me or Patrick to volunteer,” she murmured under her breath. But it was too late. Drago had already singled Patrick
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