Category: Sleight of Hand

EPISODE 10 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

NOTE FROM THE WRITER:

You will notice a change of direction in the way this episode is written from the rest. Namely, the POV and perhaps even the time is different from the previous episode. That is because, moving forward, each episode will be told from the POV of a particular character and occasionally that POV might happen earlier than when the previous chapter ended. Case in point, this episode begins with Ms. Pomory making her way to the Hangman’s Theater.

Apologies if this seems jarring to you, the reader. I intend in going back to the previous episodes and making this key change to the episode POVs so that the story, when complete, will make sense and flow much better.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF MS. POMROY

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Earlier the Same Night

“Evening, Ms. Pomroy,” Jones said, bowing as he opened the carriage door. She had the same driver for years now but it changed nothing. Staff were to address her as Ms. Pomroy and she would see to it that they remained employed, thereby taken care of. 

“Hangman’s Theater, Jones. And see to it you get me there in one piece this time. Last time we went out in the evening I thought I could barely keep my food down.”

She was right to reprimand Jones. He was rather preoccupied by his older brother who returned unexpectedly, looking for money. Lucky for Jones their journey wasn’t very far, otherwise, an upset stomach might’ve been the least of her troubles.

Jones slammed the door behind her and climbed up onto his seat. He grabbed the reins and readied the horses for their journey through lower Wondermere. Inside the carriage, Ms. Pomroy gripped a letter tightly in her hand and read it over and over again, mouthing the words to herself:

“I know who has the deck. You can’t protect her forever.”

There was no signature but it wasn’t necessary. Ms. Pomroy knew exactly who sent it. She just hoped she could get to the theater in time.

When the carriage finally arrived at the Hangman’s Theater, the coachman quickly opened the door for Ms. Pomroy. “You could’ve gone just a little bit faster, Jones.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, keeping his head bowed.

“Wait for me around the corner. I won’t be staying for the entire show tonight.” She smiled brightly at the patrons standing outside of the Hangman’s Theater waiting patiently to get inside. Whispers could be heard from the gawkers as they couldn’t believe they were seeing Ms. Pomroy there. She was well known to many as the caretaker of the colosseum. It was also believed that she always maintained an air of neutrality when it came to the acts that performed magic in Wondermere. It just wasn’t her place to dabble in the politics that clearly went on behind the scenes. But she didn’t care who saw her just then or what they were thinking. 

“Tabby? Uh—I mean…Ms. Pomroy,” Mr. Dingle stammered as he approached her. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”And it was indeed unexpected.

“You mustn’t appear so flustered. I am merely here to cheer on a close friend that I hear is performing tonight,” Ms. Pomroy said, continuing to hold her smile even though it was hurting her face. She can’t recall ever having to smile this much in her life.

“Ah, I see,” Mr. Dingle said, furrowing his eyebrows. He was thinking of all the acts on the bill and he couldn’t quite figure out which of them she would be be familiar with let alone so friendly that she’d risk attending a show. “Well, I will make sure you are well taken care of. Only the best for such a…close friend.” He bowed and walked backwards out of her sight and back inside the Hangman’s Theater. She could hear him shouting to an unlucky staff member who happened to be passing by to prepare their best table for an unexpected arrival.

Once inside Ms. Pomroy quickly looked around. Either she would encounter the person the letter was about or the author of the letter.

“Ms. Pomroy, it is a pleasure. Are you staying to watch the shows?”

Ms. Pomroy turned around, surprised to see Jan standing before her. “Jan? If you’re here then…,” she said, stepping forward to lean in and whisper in Jan’s ear so no one could hear her. “Where is she?”

Jan pulled away and smiled, clasping her hands around Ms. Pomroy’s. “Now, Ms. Pomroy, you know I can’t reveal a magician’s secrets,” she replied loudly, causing those lingering around her to stop and turn. “You’ll just have to be left to wonder like everyone else.” Jan let go of her hands and walked away, putting up the hood of a cloak she wore and leaving Ms. Pomroy to contend with more gawkers shocked to see her there. 

Ms. Pomroy was hoping to go undetected longer but now that would be impossible. She silently cursed Jan for setting her up and wondered why she did it. There was nothing left for Ms. Pomroy to do but smile at the many patrons around her as she made her way into the main room where the stage was to find her seat.

It seemed her table was yet to be brought out from the back so she was forced to stand around while others entered and took their seats at various round tables. 

The Hangman’s Theater wasn’t designed like most other theaters. They made their money from the food and drinks offered so while others had no tables to sit at and instead tried to cram as many patrons through the doors, making money from the cost of entry, the Hangman required reservations and assigned seating. A much more civilized affair indeed. In truth, Ms. Pomroy wished all theaters were this way. She couldn’t abide the idea of people pressed up against each other for an extended period of time and had this chance encounter needed to happen at another theater she likely would not have attempted such a meeting.

“Tabby Pomroy? What brings you here?”

The Great Davoren. Or, as Ms. Pomroy affectionately thought of him, ‘the famous arse.’ She put on as fake a smile as she could easily muster and extended a hand for him to shake. “I heard you would be here. You must be honored to have been invited by the king to give an opinion on a potential act for this years event?”

In truth, Ms. Pomroy was less interested in his answer and more in what she knew was hidden away somewhere on his person. Davoren smiled back. Another strain on another face. The writer of the note she kept concealed on her person.

“Oh, I am deeply honored. As you know, having favor with the king is what keeps you alive in Wondermere?”

“Is that so? I thought it was keeping your hands off his daughter. I’ve always wondered why that is. Is she just not your type?”

“You know me too well, Tabby. What would I want with a woman of brains and beauty? My light burns brightly for you.”

Tabitha wished she had an equally cruel remark to say back to him and would have done if they weren’t interrupted by Mr. Dingle who saw them speaking and could tell by their body language is clearly was not an pleasant conversation.

“Great Davoren, sir. Your table is ready. Apologies, Ms. Pomroy, the traffic backstage is immense, as I’m sure you know already. Your table will be out shortly,” Mr. Dingle said, trying to point The Great Davoren away from Tabitha and towards his table.

“I insist you sit with me as my guest, Tabby,” The Great Davoren said. “And I won’t hear argument against it.”

Tabitha returned the smile but even Mr. Dingle could tell she much rather drink a tall glass of nails. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, and hooked her hand in his arm so he could walk her to his table. 

When their backs were to him, Mr. Dingle crossed himself and looked up to the heavens in prayer that the night would not go as horribly as he was already predicting.

Davoren pulled out a chair for Tabitha and she sat, rather hesitantly. She didn’t put it past him to pull the chair out from under her. From her past experiences dealing with him, she knew he was never to be trusted.

Before Davoren could sit down next to her someone come up to him and whispered in his ear. Tabitha busied herself with a napkin, pretending not to notice, all the while straining to catch what was being said.

“…are you sure?” Was all she managed to catch from Davoren before the person speaking to him nodded. He turned and smiled down at Tabitha. “If you will excuse me. I have some urgent business I must attend to before the show begins.”

A true gentleman would’ve bowed or at least waited for the lady to acknowledge their departure from the table, but Davoren was no gentleman. He was gone before Tabitha could press him for information.

While Tabitha waited for the show to begin she fielded the occasional hello from those who past by her table. It was highly unusual for her to be there and although she would’ve preferred no one know she was there so as not to arouse suspicion that something was going on, she thought perhaps she could use this level of attention to her advantage. 

Davoren returned, looking a bit rough around the edges and sat down gruffly at the table, forgetting that Tabitha was there. The person who whispered in his ear earlier joined him and sat to his right, only managing a small smile at Tabitha.

“Everything alright, David?” Tabitha asked. She knew calling him by his real name instead of his stage name in public would only make him angrier than he already was.

He turned to her, daggers in his eyes, and smiled, though Tabitha could feel him eyeing her neck to wring it. “Oh, of course. Everything is just fine. And I’ll kindly remind you never to call me by that name in public. I’m surprised at you, Tabitha. I expect better from you.”

“Temper. Temper. Wouldn’t want your fans see you so upset, now would we,” Tabitha said, then leaned over to whisper, “I got your little note. I won’t be threatened by you or anybody.”

Davoren was about to respond when the lights suddenly went out and the host came out on the stage and a spotlight was shone on him. With the show about to begin, Tabitha acted quickly. She knew she only had minutes to retrieve the notebook and make a quick escape. She sat very still beside Davoren and just moved her eyes, trying not to move her head too much, as she could see out the corner of her eye that the person sitting on the other side of Davoren was eyeing her suspiciously.

Tabitha managed to look down and could see, tucked inside Davoren’s unbuttoned shirt, a notebook. She guessed it must be the codex. What else could it be? But how she was going to get it from him without his noticing was going to be the hard part.

The curtains on the stage opened to reveal the first act. The house lights remained off, and only the stage was illuminated. She turned her head away from Davoren and his other guest and caught a sight of someone she recognized who was watching the act from just off stage. She furrowed her eyebrows and ran through her mind the many familiar faces she knew to try and pinpoint who she had just seen. When she looked back they were out of sight.

She needed a distraction. Something that would give her enough time to take it and then leave in the chaos. Mr. Dingle wouldn’t appreciate that sort of distraction on such an important day for him and his theater, but sacrifices had to be made. She was sure she could explain and make it up to him later. While the magician was deep into their magic trick, Tabitha took that opportunity to slip away from the table. She looked back only once to make sure no one had noticed. Not even the person seated next to Davoren, who seemed to be tasked with watching her every moment, seemed not to notice her absence from the table.

She moved to the far wall and started to make her way towards the back of the hall where she could just make out Mr. Dingle, watching the show as well. She raised her hand to get his attention when the host came on stage to announce the next magic act.

 “Ladies and gentleman. It appears we have a change in tonight’s performance. Maranigan the Magician will be performing…” the host paused and Tabitha could see a bead of sweat on his forehead, “the Vanishing Woman.” The crowd gasped and the host ran offstage.

Tabitha looked back at Davoren who was already out of his seat, seething with outrage.

“Damn it,” she whispered trying to get back to her seat, hoping she could intercept him before he was gone but it was too late. By the time she got back to the table, Davoren was gone and the magic act was beginning.

The Vanishing Woman, everyone knew, was Davoren’s great trick. Every great magician has one that they perform best, leaving the other magicians to wonder how it’s done and try their best to emulate it. Others have tried. All have failed. Tabitha sat and watched, but not at the magic act itself, instead at the magician and his assistants who were helping him.

She couldn’t help but grin to herself when she realized who were onstage. Especially the oversized female assistant who was about to enter into a box and vanish. 

When the trick worked and the crowd roared with excitement, Tabitha again rose from her table to follow where she assumed Davoren had scurried off to, backstage. He knew how the trick was supposed to go and probably wanted to see if this act had figured it out.

Backstage she witnessed what she knew to be an obvious sleight of hand trick. If Davoren had been paying attention he might’ve realized what was just taken from him but he was too busy berating poor Mr. Dingle for the incompetent staff and demanding to be let into a room that obviously led under the stage. Tabitha watched as the woman who vanished and a gentleman walked around a corner and out of sight. 

“What are you doing back here?” Davoren asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be out front watching the acts? Not back here trying to steal their secrets.”

The host could be heard back on stage about to announce the next act and Tabitha left Davoren behind with Mr. Dingle trying to explain why he needed to return to his seat. “…what might the king think if it got back to him that Davoren wasn’t present for the entire show…”

Tabitha stood outside a dressing room where she could clearly hear giggles inside. She knocked on the door before letting herself in.

EPISODE 9 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

The Hangman’s Theater is hosting several black letter recipient magicians to perform for a chance at the largest stage in Wondermere. A once in a lifetime opportunity and Jan has procured an opportunity for Charisma and friends to perform but for reasons that have little to do with winning a contest. Will they get what they came for?

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FELIX

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Three vertical pieces of wood held together by a black metal frame, scraped and scratched over time from all kinds of weather, swung back and forth on a pole in the side of a building teeming with people waiting entry. Carved into the wood was a dangling man with a noose around his neck. Long hair concealing his face. His toes pointed downward. Forever in a state of not quite dead with every sway of The Hangman’s sign.

Two lanterns on either side of the entrance were lighted as the sun began to set. Already there were at least two dozen people standing in line waiting to get inside. News traveled quickly that several magic acts performing this evening were in possession of black letters. These letters were not easy to come by. They were a magic acts ticket that would bring them one step closer to performing at the colosseum. To receive such a letter was an honor. It meant the hard work of a magic act was brought to the attention of the king and he had chosen this act to receive a spot.

It was the right time for invitations and for new acts trying to get their opportunity under the spotlight to get recognized. This is also a time for smaller theaters and venues that host magic acts all year round to make their most money. Any theater hosting a black invitation magic act was assured a sell out evening and usually runs out of food and drink before the end of the night.

The Hangman’s Theater hadn’t had the pleasure of a black letter performance in several years but they were more than ready when Jan alerted them to her recent invitation.

The doors were not open yet as the owner of The Hangman’s Theater was able to acquire more tables and chairs to cram in extra patrons, making sure to leave plenty of room for the judges who would be watching and scoring from the best spot in the house. 

Mr. Dingle in his finest clothes, a suit he hadn’t worn since his wedding day more than a decade ago, made sure not to breath too deeply or bend over as he made his way from the stage down to the main floor towards the entrance. As he passed them by his staff all looked up and made sure to smile at him. Minor assurances that everything was going just fine. Not a hiccup would happen tonight.

Jan wore a long black cape, a hood up over her face, waiting by the entrance just out of sight. “Is everything as we discussed?” She asked Mr. Dingle.

“Yes. Oh yes. Decidedly so. Yes. Heavens above. I can’t believe the Great Davoren will be in attendance.” Mr. Dingle was older than Jan, a rotund belly that struggled under his vest, the buttons nearing the moment of popping as they barely held together. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to mop away the sweat. Were he to wring that handkerchief he would have enough to fill a cup. The few strands of hair he had atop his head he smoothed down to one side, over his bald spot. He licked his fingers to smooth it down even more. A shine under the lantern lights made his bald spot that much more noticeable but Jan didn’t have the heart to tell he friend.

Mr. Dingle kept her secret about living her life as a man in order to keep her family business and livelihood from being taken by the king and their family. In truth, Mr. Dingle and his wife were unable to conceive and he looked at Jan, though she was less than ten years his junior, as a daughter. That didn’t stop his nerves from getting the better of him.

The last time Mr. Dingle and The Hangman’s Theater hosted a black letter magic act, it didn’t go well at all. The stage wasn’t designed to the specifications that the act required until the day of the performance. This gave them no time to rehearse and confirm their set would work the way expected. When the act wasn’t invited by the king to perform at the colosseum due to having received one of the lowest scores by the judges, it rendered The Hangman’s Theater as a curse within the community. 

So, when Jan was able to receive the black letter she knew exactly where she wanted to perform. A chance for her dear friend to regain some respect within the community. It changed nothing for those outside who were busy speculating about what might go wrong. 

Up until tonight the theater was the only one in Wondermere that hosted everything except magic. Normally, a theater that never had magic on the bill would be put out of business. But with the help of Jan and the other performances they managed to book they’ve been able to remain afloat.

“Mr. Dingle, you must remain calm. I am sure everything will work out fine tonight. Besides, we have a plan remember?” He nodded at her and smiled. He knew that while a performance would be happening on stage, the most important thing would be what was happening behind the stage. They only needed their act to capture the attention of the audience for a short while and none of their proposed magic would require the stage to do anything special or different.

He took a deep breath. “Quite right. Quite right. Do you need me for anything else? Otherwise, I think it is time to let them in.” Mr. Dingle looked at his pocket watch. It was nearly six o’clock, which meant the show would need to begin soon.

Jan asked that the bill remain as it was intended for the evening. This would give her and the others time to prepare before they performed The Vanishing Woman for everyone. Their whole plan hinged on this trick and the Great Davoren’s ego.

“No, my friend. You have done brilliantly.” Jan retreated through a secret passageway that allowed staff and acts who used the theater to move about unseen by the customers. It was a rather narrow walkway from the front of the theater and let her out backstage, right by the kitchen.

The kitchen is where Mrs. Dingle spent her time. She was too old to stand long enough to cook like she used to in the early days of the theaters existence, but she sat on a stool and observed, making suggestions and barking orders to anyone and everyone who passed by her.

The head chef knew better than to step on her toes, after all she was the one who gave him the job and he needed it more than anyone else there. The staff made sure not to give her reason to yell at them, keeping their heads down and staying at their station.

Jan watched Mrs. Dingle, her long gray hair pulled back to show the stern expression on her face. The way her eyes darted around the kitchen watching everyone as they moved with precision, working together. It was her attention to detail that Jan marveled at. Nothing got past Mrs. Dingle. Nothing that is, except for Jan. She was unaware of the lie that Jan was portraying to the world and though it pained Jan to have to keep it from her, there was a fear that it would reach the ear of the king should Mrs. Dingle ever find out. After all, Mrs. Dingle is a distant cousin of the Conroy’s, the ruling family, and with that honor comes an open ended invitation to the castle whenever she wishes. 

Before Mrs. Dingle could notice, Jan slipped past her. Mrs. Dingle felt the presence of someone near and smiled knowingly at the sudden disappearance down the hall.

When Jan emerged in the backstage area there was shouting and dozens of people moving about. No one really paid her any attention. Everyone was far too busy preparing for the night’s show to begin. She managed to weave her way through the stagehands to the room where she left her associates earlier.

“And where have you been?” Felix asked, hands on his hips, staring daggers at her. She wanted to take him seriously, truly she did. But it was difficult to do when he was dressed as a woman in a frilly dress with a wig that never quite sat straight on his head. It wasn’t for lack of trying, he just didn’t have enough hair of his own when it came to using pins to hold it all in place.

“Everything is ready. They are opening the doors to let everyone in. How are you two doing over here?” Jan asked Charisma and Flossie who were huddled together at the vanity, looking down at some notes and drawings.

“With no time to practice or prepare I’d say we’re excellent,” Flossie said sarcastically.

“It seems simple enough but are you sure you want me on stage with you to do this? Couldn’t you go alone?” Charisma asked.

“You know as well as I do this requires two men to perform. Davoren will know something is up if just one of us is on stage. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want Flossie’s job, do you?” Flossie didn’t even want her job either.

***

“Is he here?” Flossie asked, sneaking up behind Charisma who was watching an act perform backstage. The show had begun and it was her first real opportunity to watch a theater show. She had always gotten to see shows at the colosseum due to her job there and although it was the largest stage in all of Wondermere, there was something about a smaller and more intimate setting that Charisma appreciated. 

The audience was within arms reach, meaning they could see everything that was happening. One wrong move and it could give away the trick.

However, as the Hangman’s Theater hosted more than just magic acts, performing on stage were a duet who were on their second song. Charisma enjoyed their voices and how they blended together well. She wasn’t sure if they were brother and sister or husband and wife but their connection, whatever it was, was undeniable. She also couldn’t help but notice how the woman looked in her direction whenever she moved across the stage. Charisma kept looking back in case the stare was meant for someone else but there was never anyone behind her.

“Hello!” Flossie whispered loudly, snapping her fingers in front of Charisma’s face as she was clearly distracted by the singing happening on stage.

“Oh, sorry, yes,” Charisma said, leaning to one side so Flossie could see for herself. Seated at a slightly larger table in the middle with everyone else around them, was the Great Davoren. 

Charisma wasn’t very impressed by him the way everyone else seemed to be. The moment he arrived everyone around him felt compelled to congratulate his obvious invitation to the colosseum and tell them how much they love his performances. He placated the crowds enough without encouraging them but he did take several bows before the shows on stage could begin.

He arrived at the theater alone, though after a while he was joined by two other people. They flanked him on either side. One man and the other was Miss. Pomroy. Charisma gasped when she saw her and turned her head away, afraid she would be heard over the singers. 

“What is she doing here?” Flossie asked.

“I have no idea but I’m starting to think this might be the a bad idea. What if she recognizes us?”

“I hope not—”

“Excuse me, sirs, your up next,” The stage manager who had been directing traffic brilliantly backstage crept up behind Charisma and Flossie.

“Thank you,” Flossie said, in as deep a voice as she could muster. Charisma didn’t get to hear the end of the song and she hoped she would get a chance to let them both know how much she enjoyed their singing.

In their dressing room Flossie blurted out the good news that they were next, omitting that their employer at the colosseum was also in attendance. 

The equipment was already waiting for them on the side of the stage with Felix dressed as a woman and Charisma and Jan both dressed as men, preparing to walk on stage. 

The evenings host walked onto the stage while the audience finished applauding the singers who exited on the opposite side of the stage. The female singing looked back across the stage and winked at Charisma whose face flushed.

“Here we go,” Flossie said, shoving her way past Charisma and Jan and running onto the stage. She made a big scene of leaning in to whisper something to the announcer before handing him a card and running off stage in the direction of the two singers.

The announcer cleared his throat before speaking into the microphone. “Ladies and gentleman. It appears we have a change in tonight’s performance. Maranigan the Magician will be performing…” he started and paused, swallowing deeply and wishing he had a glass of water to get through the rest, he continued, “the Vanishing Woman.”

There was immediate gasps and murmurings coming from the audience. Jan and Charisma leaned in to look at Davoren’s reaction. As they expected, he was livid. Even members of the audience looked over at him as well.

“Let’s give them a round of applause…,” the announcer said and quickly hurried off stage.

As the equipment for to perform the magic trick was wheeled on stage with the aid of Charisma, Jan and one stage hand, Felix waited in the wings for his cue to walk on stage.

By now, Davoren was beside himself as he continued to sit, unmoving, and watching what was about to take place. Sure, other magicians have tried to perform the Vanishing Woman, but none of them were successful. He was used to copycats. None of them knew how he did it and it amused him to watch others try. But this was different. He could already tell when he saw what was being brought out on stage that they at least had the correct equipment. Then he saw Jan and knew it was entirely possible that this trick would be performed exactly the same as he has done in his own shows. But with the audience watching he couldn’t make a scene. He tried to look around him without moving his head even an inch and held a smile on his face though it clearly pained him. Charisma took a chance to glance in his direction and saw a vain throbbing on the side of his neck as he clenched his jaw and balled his fists in front of him. She looked away but not before catching the eye of Miss. Pomroy who was staring rather intently at her. She raised her eyebrows and looked away quickly. Jan could tell something was off but as they were both in the middle of a trick there was hardly any time to find out what was wrong.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I am sure you’ve seen this trick performed once or twice before—”

“Unsuccessfully!” Came a shout from the audience. Even Davoren forgot himself and nodded in agreement with the yeller.

“Indeed. But I assure you. There will be no cock-up here,” Jan continued, staring right at Davoren. “If my lovely assistant will join me on stage.” Jan waved her hand with a flourish for Felix to appear and he did. Instantly the crowd erupted in laughter. Felix was nothing like any magician’s assistant. He was the wrong age. The wrong height. The wrong look all around. Jan knew it and did it intentionally. Not only would she perform Davoren’s trick as well as he does but with an older and far less attractive woman to boot.

Jan continued her speech, letting the audience know exactly what they were seeing and what they were about to see. Charisma was so busy listening and learning and waiting for her cues that she didn’t notice Davoren has managed to slip away. Luckily, it wasn’t her job to notice his movements at this point. It was her job to make sure the trick happened correctly or they would all be in trouble.

Felix stepped inside the large rectangular box and four large locks were used to make sure it could not be opened. Then Jan and Charisma spun the box around twice to let the audience see there was no other means of escape, knocking on all the sides of the box to show there was no secret door.

On the last turn, the box was stopped, Jan said a few arbitrary magic words, the locks were removed and the door swung open to reveal Charisma stepping out of the box! The crowd cheered!

Right beneath the stage Felix was smoothing out his dress and awkwardly sliding across an oversized fluffy pillow that was placed there to catch his fall. 

“Let me through immediately!” Davoren shouted several yards away. 

“Excuse me sir,” said a deep voice charging at him at top speeds. A waiter holding a tray of drinks bumped into him, spilling them all onto his front. In the commotion he didn’t notice when an elderly woman stumbled past him, slipping her hand in his waist coat pocket and retrieving a notebook that was inside.

“I’ll have you fired for this!” The Great Davoren shouted.

“Dear me, what is all the fuss about?” Mr. Dingle said, appearing as if out of nowhere. “Hurry along and get fresh drinks for our guests. Mustn’t keep them waiting. I’ll take care of this.”

The waiter, keeping their head low, hurried away with an empty tray in their hand.

“What kind of incompetent staff are you running here?” Davoren continued to shout.

The old woman and waiter came together in the dressing room. She removed her wig and laughed. He shook his head and pulled off his waiters hat, letting long hair spill down around her shoulders.

“Now, that was fun!” Flossie said. A knock on the door startled them both. Flossie rushed to put her hair back up in her hat. She snapped her fingers at Felix to hurry up and put his wig back on before she opened the door, the empty tray in her hand as if pretending to leave. “If that will be all.” She ducked her head and tried to move past the person in the doorway without making eye contact but they kept moving with her to block her escape.

Gripping her by the arm, Flossie was forced back into the room and onto the couch beside Felix, whose wig was badly askew atop his head.

“You two better have a damn good explanation for why you weren’t at work today before I report you to the king myself!”

EPISODE 8 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

The Hangman’s Theater isn’t known for hosting magician acts but tonight is very different. Not only will Jan be performing with her other “male” team, but they’ve devised a plan that will get them one step closer to retrieving the item stolen from Felix’s flat.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FLOSSIE

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The horse whinnied as it was reigned in at a cross street to let three gentlemen and a lady cross. One of the gentlemen tipped their hat at the coachman to thank him for stopping short. Once they reached the other side of the street the horse and coach it pulled continued on its way.

“See, we fooled him completely,” Flossie said, clearing her throat once more to try and make it sound deeper, like a man.

“A coachman high up in his seat is hardly a magic trick one has to perfect in the art of disguise. This will hardly work when face-to-face with the enemy,” Felix retorted. Of the four of them, he fussed the most. He had no experience wearing a girdle and heeled shoes and it showed as he attempted to scratch an itch in his back. A most unladylike maneuver. 

Jan took his arm and whispered in his ear, “Calm yourself, Felix or your wig will come right off.” A pair of women deep in their own world of conversation on the other side of the street stopped and stared for a moment at the four of them. Instinctively, Charisma, Flossie and Jan tipped their hat at the ladies as they giggled to each other and kept walking, this time at a faster pace.

“I wonder what they must think of us,” Charisma said. “What exactly are we planning on doing? I feel rather exposed out here in the middle of the day.”

“If we’re to uncover anything about what happened to that unfortunate gentleman who died on your doorstep then we must go where he’s gone and speak to whomever he may have come into contact with. And with the king’s guardsmen out looking for him and likely looking for you as well, we need to make sure this disguise is at least passible for the time being.”

Felix pried his arm away from Jan. “If you are suggesting what I think you’re suggesting then count me out. I can find the journal on my own and I don’t need this get up to do it,” he said, pushing up his bosom that was sagging a bit along with his dress that was having a hard time staying on his shoulders. It was meant for a much bustier woman.

“We’ve already been to a hall. Where else do we need to search?” Charisma asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jan said.

Flossie’s eyes widened. “You think he’s been to the colosseum? But it’s not open to the public yet.”

“Not the colosseum, but one step below that. What if he came here to confront a magician with the deck and got sent packing. Like—”

“No! Absolutely not. It’s impossible to go to every single theater hoping someone will tell us if they’ve seen him. And I refuse to take another step in these shoes. They are wreaking havoc on my feet,” Felix said, eyeing the shoes of the three ladies with him, enviously.

“I wasn’t suggesting we hoof it to every theater. I agree with you, Felix. There are far too many and not enough time to waste. But we already have a place to start, the Great Davoren. You mentioned he was withholding information? Well, he’s not likely to divulge it to you but what about for a wager?”

Jan knew the Great Davoren couldn’t turn down a wager. In fact, everyone knew that. Including Felix who rolled his eyes and folded his arms in defiance.

“He’d never go for it. Besides, what exactly do you propose to bet against a man like him? He’s no fool.”

“We shall see. Do you trust me, Charisma? If this works it will give us answers, but if it doesn’t, you might suffer the most out of all of us simply for what you now hold in your possession,” Jan said.

“I trust you, Jan. Of course I do. This is the most fun I’ve had in years outside of my home. What do you propose we do?”

Jan looked at her pocket watch to make note of the time. “Meet me in front of Hangman’s Theater this evening at six o’clock. Oh, and make sure you come dressed like this. All of you,” she said, eyeing Felix.

“You expect me to be seen in this thing again later tonight, and at Hangman’s Theater no less. Are you mad?”

“Do you want your precious journal back? Or answers to your questions? If so, then do this and I promise, the dress, the heels, the wig, will have all been worth it,” Jan said, with a smirk.

“Thank you, Felix,” Charisma said, putting her hand on his shoulder just as an older man pushing a cart down the street filled with different fruits. He stopped for a moment beside them and pulled his cap off, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. He eyed them suspiciously before putting his cap back on and continuing to push his cart. He was headed closer to the colosseum to catch the end of day crowds on their way home from a long days work. Charisma recognized him as the man she often buys her fruit from and wondered if he noticed her as well.

“Six o’clock,” Jan repeated as she jogged across the street and turned a corner out of sight before Felix could continue his protestations.

“Are we to walk home now?” Felix asked.

“No, Felix. I believe you’ve suffered enough,” Charisma said, holding her hand out to signal a coach for them. Women never signal for a coach, it is always a man, but as she was dressed for the part it was surprisingly simple to do. Even Flossie was impressed and said as much upon entering the coach. Charisma hopped in last after letting Felix in ahead of her, unlike Flossie who forgot her gentlemanly manners and pushed her way in first. She tapped the roof of the coach to signal it was safe to depart and they made their way home, two gentleman and a rather elderly lady.

***

As requested, but by much fuss from Felix, they arrived as dressed that morning at the Hangman’s Theater.

“Wait,” Felix said, grabbing Charisma’s arm before she opened the coach door. “Who is that with Jan? Isn’t that…yes, it is…,” he said, fanning out and raising a pair of lorgnette eyeglasses to see better.

“Nevermind them, what exactly are those?” Flossie asked him. Charisma stifled a giggle as best she could.

“At least I’m trying to look the part,” Felix huffed right back at Flossie.

“He is right, Fliss. It’s Garreth. What is he doing talking with Jan? Should we leave?” Charisma asked far too late, for Jan had already seen the carriage lingering and surmised it was her friends who she asked to meet her in front of the Hangman’s Theater where she had waited.

Jan rapped on the window and Charisma pulled back the curtain slowly. In her present attire she was as much a man as any other gentleman. And if she needed to pass as one in front of strangers she was certain of passing the test without a problem. But she had met Garreth before, and in close proximity to each other. She had doubts that he would not recognize her disguise straight away.

“Here is my team, as you can see. You can assure the king that I am more than ready to help,” Jan said, turning her head away from Garreth so that only the occupants of the carriage could see it and she winked. 

Garreth lowered his head to look inside the dark carriage at those seated within. He eyed Charisma curiously and she blushed slightly at his gaze before averting her eyes back to Jan. He slowly surveyed Felix and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Who is she supposed to be? Your stage assistant?” His tone was clearly one of sarcasm and Felix was ready to defend himself, though from what he was not completely sure.

“I assure you, my cousin…Tamsin,” she said, pausing long enough to find a name she felt fit Felix’s look, “is the best in the business.”

Garreth reached in the breast pocket of his uniform and handed Jan an all too familiar black envelope. “Do not disappoint the king. Or on your head be it.” His last words before departing inside the Hangman’s Theater.

“Is that what I think it is?” Felix asked, awkwardly stepping out of the carriage. He pulled his arms away from Jan and Charisma who tried to help steady him in his two inch heels with little success. “Unhand me, you two. I can walk just fine on my own. I’ve been practicing.”

Flossie eyed him curiously and whispered under her breath, “I’ll bet you have.”

“Quickly, let’s get inside and I’ll explain everything,” Jan said, ushering them through the main entrance of the Hangman’s Theater. She held up the black envelope as they passed by the guard at the door. 

The theater was empty, just workers taking down chairs from round tables and laying out cutlery for the evening’s performances. They walked towards the stage in quick procession till they arrived backstage. It was much more crowded with magician acts moving about, preparing for the evening. 

They arrived at a door and Jan opened it and ferried them inside before closing it behind her. “Why did he hand you an invitation?”

Flossie inhaled loudly. “You don’t mean—”

“No, he doesn’t. That’s not what this is. You’ve indeed been out of the business for a long time, haven’t you. The king gives out black letters to small acts now. It’s his way of spreading the wealth of the colosseum to the lower class magicians. This way it’s all very fare. Except, those with black invitations have to perform in theaters to earn a spot to perform at the colosseum.”

“And you got a black invitation to perform? Tonight?” Charisma asked. She removed her hat which, until now, had been concealing her long hair that was held in place by pins in a braid.

“Exactly, so don’t get too comfortable, because you’re helping me,” Jan said.

“I knew it. You’ve gone stark raving mad. Why would we want to expose ourselves on stage? We need to remain in the shadows, not out in public for all the world to see what we’re up to,” Felix said. He wanted terribly to take off his shoes as they were beginning to hurt his feet from the hours he had already spent walked back and forth across his living room floor in them for practice. Instead, he sat on an old musty couch that probably hadn’t been cleaned for years. The smell reminded him of his younger years, playing in theaters not unlike the Hangman, for barely any money, in the hopes the Lyfords would one day receive a highly coveted invitation from the king.

“Do you really think I would risk this if it wasn’t for a good reason? I have it on good authority that the judge of tonight’s show is the Great Davoren. And if he’s like I remember him, anything of value he has will most assuredly be on him.”

“Lunacy. Sheer lunacy. You expect us to perform on stage and pick his pockets? I suppose you have some master scheme to do all this to a magician?” Felix said sarcastically. Everyone in that room knew a magician was the hardest mark for any thief, even the most acclaimed.

Jan smiled mischievously. It’s why you’re here, Felix. The denouement will be The Vanishing Woman.”

Felix was about to protest again but stopped himself. Then he gave the same grin that she had just a moment ago.

“Look at them, Charisma. Both smiling like Cheshire cats. What are we missing?”

“Perhaps our friend, Jan, isn’t as crazy as I thought. The Vanishing Lady is Davoren’s main performance piece. He frames his entire show around it. Even I know that. And like any good magician he’ll want to make sure his secret for how it’s done isn’t the same as his own. He’ll want to go backstage and confirm for himself.” Felix started to laugh in a most sinister way. “Oh, that is rich. But you forget one thing. How exactly do we get the journal off him?”

“Felix, you forget you are in the company of the owner of Maranigan’s Shop. Maranigan knows everything. It is our stock in trade. When all else fails, the secrets we keep will keep our legacy afloat. You were a master thief in your day, were you not? I suspect you still know a thing or two. And if you can convince him that you are who you pretend to be, then I think you can easily get close enough to do what must be done. But you only have one shot to do it. We all do. There’s no telling how many of the king’s guardsmen will also be in attendance. One wrong move and we’ll all be in trouble.”

“That still leaves one question unanswered,” Charisma said, raising her hand to call their attention to her. “Why would the king give you an invitation on such short notice? Doesn’t he give those out well in advance so that magicians have a chance to prepare?”

“Let’s just say I called in a favor with the king,” Jan replied, “so let’s not muck it up.”

EPISODE 7 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

A visit to Maranigan’s Shop yields unexpected results (and help) from Jan, the current owner, when they discover the king’s guardsmen are now looking for them in connection with the sighting of a deck of cards.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF CHARISMA

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The rest of the evening was a blur for Charisma. She remembers putting the deck back in her pocket and making some excuse to the others for some space. She needed to think about what she’d just been told. Performing at the colosseum was a long time dream of hers ever since she was old enough to accompany her father to work and watch him craft a wand special for a magician. She wanted a wand of her very own. A thing she could never own.

Being a magician was a man’s world and the only space that women were allowed to occupy in it was as assistants to the magic trick being performed. They wore scantily clad outfits on stage and waved their arms about to deflect the audiences attention from the truth behind the trick.

When Charisma was lucky enough to get a job at the colosseum she knew it would be the closest she’d ever get to fulfilling her dream and she made sure not to waste a moment of it. Whenever the annual performances happened she volunteered to work the floor. This gave her access backstage to all the acts and in many cases, she even figured out how they really worked though she would never reveal what she knows to anyone.

Upon leaving the pub she was met by a throng of young boys waving their very own magician wands in the air, laughing and joking with each other. She wondered where their parents were, letting them stay out this late at night. There was a chill in the air and she welcomed how it awakened her senses. Without much thought she pointed herself in a direction that led her closer to the colosseum and started to walk. 

She heard horse hooves in the distance pulling carriages and merchants shouting across the road to each other as they started to close their shops for the night. There was also the familiar smell of late night restaurants and pubs preparing for the evening crowds. Usually men after work looking for a quick bite to eat or ale to drink before headed home to the meal they could barely stomach.

Pretty soon Charisma found herself stopped in front of a magic shop. But not just any magic shop. This was her favorite place to visit as a child and it was still where she’d end up whenever she wanted to escape the shouting matches between her mother and father and eventually the shouting matches between her and her father. It felt safe and warm and welcoming. It also helped that the owner encouraged her love of magic, promising to never tell a soul about it.

Charisma pulled open the door and walked in, immediately shutting out the sounds from outside and setting her in silence. She wasn’t surprised the place was empty. It usually was slow in the evenings though Jan kept it open late just in case there was a magician emergency. 

Maranigan’s shop wasn’t the only magic shop in Wondermere. Truth be told, there were dozens of them but it was Maranigan’s that was open from the very beginning and it was the staple for any true magician to avail themselves of the very best. If they could afford it, that is. The other shops were more for tourists and magicians who were not as successful. 

“Well hello there, stranger. I haven’t seen you in…” Jan appeared as if out of nowhere, usually from the tucked away back room, with hands on hips, thinking. “What is it?” Jan could tell something was wrong. Anytime Charisma visited she was either bubbly and excited about something she’d just heard or discovered while working backstage at the colosseum, or she was looking for a place to hide from the outside world. Jan could tell it was the latter this time.

Without a word Charisma pulled out the deck of cards from her pocket and held it out to Jan who knew what it was and quickly locked the door so no one could come in.

“Jan, I’m in trouble,” Charisma said before exhaling deeply. She had been holding in so much emotion and she couldn’t any longer. The tears came before her words and Jan just listened, trying to make out the words that came blubbering out of Charisma’s shaky voice.

After a while Charisma stopped talking and they just remained together in silence for a bit until Jan left her to put the kettle on.

While Jan was gone, Charisma had a chance to realize all she had just said. But she wasn’t worried that Jan would turn her over to the king or his guardsmen. Jan was good at keeping secrets.

After Jan was born the Maranigan family had to become expert secret keepers. Starting with the baby that should’ve been born a boy. For hundreds of years Maranigan’s Magic Shop was owned and operated by the men in their family. It made sense. No magician would ever buy any magic if it were being sold by a woman. It’s common knowledge and tradition that magic is performed by men. To keep the business afloat and in good standing with the magician community a man had to run the business always.

Then Jan was born. A beautiful baby girl with a full head of dark curls and hazel eyes. The day she was put into her mother’s arms by a close family friend who helped with the pregnancy, there were tears in everyone’s eyes but they were not of joy. Jan’s mother didn’t make it but her dying wish was for her husband to do what needed to be done to keep the shop going for everyone’s sake.

Jan’s father knew what his wife mean. With her gone their entire livelihood rested on the shoulders of a baby. He also had to deal with his sister who ran away from home the first chance she got. Last known to have a family of her own in a far off land. Rumor has it, she had a son, who, by rights should be the owner of Maranigan’s Shop were it not for the recorded birth of a beautiful baby boy. Dark curly hair. Hazel eyes.

For the rest of her life, Jan was to dress as a boy. To everyone who came round and to all her close friends, she was a boy. And it didn’t bother her much to do so. Jan always felt the boys got to have more fun anyhow. The burden was on her father who kept it till the day he died. The shop left to Jan, she didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on her own. Eventually, she shared her secret with a childhood friend who agreed to live with her as husband and wife.

Jan also shared her secret with Charisma and Flossie. Her father told her why it needed to be kept a secret but she felt the more people in her life who knew the easier it would be not to lie.

When Jan came back with a tray of tea and biscuits, Charisma was feeling better. The shock having worn off.

“What should I do?” Charisma asked Jan. She felt it was a question Jan would surely have an answer to. She couldn’t ask Flossie. She knew what Flossie would say. That she had to go through with it, learn magic and show those men what a woman could do. And Felix, well, as a former magician he’d likely think this all was a bit too dangerous for her to undertake.

“I know what I would do,” Jan said. “I’d hide. But, hiding is what I do best,” she said, motioning to her store. “I have to hide or I risk losing everything. But you’re different, Charisma. You never had to spend your life under the mask of a lie. You have little to lose.”

“It sounds like you’re saying I should do it,” Charisma said, a chuckle in her throat that came up involuntarily. “You were the last person I’d think would tell me that.”

“You came to me for honesty. Not more lies. I envy you. Your whole life ahead of you. To do with whatever you want. I’m trapped under the weight of magic that was here long before I was born and will surely outlive me.”

Jan sipped the tea she made and looked towards the door of her shop. On the other side she could see Flossie waving frantically trying to get her attention. Beside her an older gentleman who she guessed to be the Felix that Charisma told her about.

“Your friends are here,” Jan said, motioning her to turn round.

Charisma was equally excited and exhausted to see the concerned faces of Flossie and Felix looking at her on the other side of the door.

Jan unlocked and opened the door, a jingle of bells as they rushed inside.

“Close it quickly. Do you have somewhere where we can not be seen from the street?” Felix asked, dispensing with introductions. Charisma thought they were just looking for her out of concern but realized it was for a more immediate reason and danger.

Without saying a word, Jan closed and locked the door. She pulled closed curtains that were on the door, meant to keep out the morning sun then prying eyes. Then she beckoned them to follow her through the maze of her store towards the back. It was an opening that led to where the excess stock was kept in crates and boxes. Not exactly as private as Felix would’ve liked but he supposed it would have to do for now. He started to speak when Jan pushed aside large crates that looked much heavier than they actually were. Under them was a handle that Jan grabbed and pulled up to reveal a trap door. She held it open while Felix, Flossie and Charisma walked down the stairs. Jan followed behind them letting the lid slam shut above her.

Left in pitch darkness, none of them moved, except Jan, who knew exactly where to go to produce light. She side stepped past Charisma and ran her hand along the stone wall till her hand touched the familiar bronze lantern. She found the turnkey and twisted it a quarter turn to produce just enough light to see everyone’s faces. Only Flossie looked fascinated by where they were and was antsy to see where the secret tunnel would lead.

Jan unhooked the lantern and used it to lead the way down a long tunnel that seemed to never end. Above them they could hear the familiar sounds of footfalls from people walking and the occasional trot of horses hooves. Charisma guessed by the sounds and length of time they spent walking that they were headed across the street but underground.

They reached the end of the tunnel and turned right to find a locked door. Jan pulled out a key she wore around her neck and used it to open the door for them to all enter. Once inside she no longer needed the lantern. There was an overhead light that was already on, as if they were expected.

“How’s this?” Jan asked, winking over at Felix who was impressed. He thought he knew of all the secret tunnels and places throughout Wondermere but clearly he was proven wrong.

“Why all the secrecy?” Charisma asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. They obviously needed to be careful what they said and who would be around when they said it, but she was hoping to have some time alone as she asked and was only given a few hours. Not nearly the amount of time she wanted.

“Someone reported seeing the deck in the area. Anyone who isn’t where they should be is being sought. That includes anyone missing from work…” Flossie said.

Charisma knew that meant them. They up and left work without letting even Ms. Pomroy know what was going on or that they needed to leave. Charisma kicked herself for not confiding in Ms. Pomroy whom she trusted to at least not report her to the king’s guardsmen if they came looking. She hated them as much as anyone else.

“Should we go to the colosseum or home?” Charisma asked.

No one answered straight away, then Jan said “neither.” All eyes turned to her for a reason. “If they are looking for you, the best thing you can do is remain hidden for as long as possible. I’m sure another emergency will come up that will take all their attentions off of you. Until then, you should hide.”

“And how do you suppose we do that? We don’t exactly stand out but we’re not the blending in kind either,” Flossie said, looking at herself then Charisma up and down. They were in their work clothes which consisted of their usual trousers and button up blouse with their hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“I didn’t lead you here for no reason. A dear friend of mine owns the shop upstairs,” Jan said.

“It’s a clothing shop,” Charisma said out loud to no one in particular.

“Yes, but you’ve probably only seen half of the store. There’s a secret place that only certain people even know exists. It’s where I shop for my clothes,” Jan said. “Hiding in plain sight is something I’m really good at.”

“That’s all well and good for you to dress them up to look like men. What do you propose to do to hide me?”

Flossie snorted holding back laughter. Charisma fought to hold back laughter as well.

“I’m sure we can find something suitable for your…magnetic personality…” Jan said, pushing open another door that led them into Anders Costume Shop.

EPISODE 6 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

An unexpected relation of Felix’s happens to overhear the plans being hatched by Charisma, Flossie, and Felix and injects himself into their scheme. With little hope of moving forward without him they tell him everything that’s happened and he tells Charisma something that will change her life forever.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FLOSSIE

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They heard the gruff and gravely voice first but it was the distinct cigar smell that made Felix stiffen. He’d recognize it anywhere and felt his old age catching up to him that he didn’t look around before they sat down and starting talking. He knew whatever was about to happen would likely not go well but he steeled himself as best be could before turning around with a wide grin on his face to welcome his cousin, Orson Lyford.

Off all the Lyford magicians still alive, and currently out of work, Orson was the one who held a grudge against Felix the hardest. It wasn’t so much the shame but what happened to his favorite aunt shortly after. When she took her own life it shattered the Lyford family irreparably and Orson holds Felix personally responsible for Aunt Bea’s tragic death.

“Dear cousin,” Felix said, his eyes shocked by the state of his cousin who he hadn’t seen in over a decade. In truth, he likely wouldn’t even have recognized his cousin were it not for the combination of his voice and the cigar smell. It was a brand the men in his family smoked regularly. It was nice to see old habits didn’t go away, but that was all the nice he was going to get. “I didn’t see you there.”

Orson shoved out of his seat so he could get a better look at Felix. Each step he took was accompanied by a distinct stomp on the floor from a wooden cane he used on his right side to help with his right foot that was wrapped by metal bars on four sides.

Charisma looked down at his leg in horror. She’d only heard of such a contraption being used on a magician when he suffered an accident on stage a long time ago. But from what she remembered it required absolutely no movement until the fractured bones healed. Judging by the way Orson leaned on his cane to try and keep the weight off his injured one, she could tell it had been some time since he followed doctors orders and because of it he may never be without his cane.

“You needn’t worry yourself, lass. I barely feel the pain now. I’d have the blasted thing taken off if it weren’t gonna cost me ta have it done. Shift over, cousin. Can’t you see I’m crippled,” Orson said, waving for Felix to slide further into his booth. This did not make Felix feel safe at all as now he was trapped with no means of escape.

Orson shifted his leg closer to the table and using his can, lifted himself up enough to get into the seat beside Felix, leaving just enough room for his bad foot to stick straight out between Charisma and Flossie under the table.

“Not that we don’t want you two to reconcile whatever bad blood is clearly between you two, but we were kind of in the middle of something,” Flossie said, hoping Orson would get the hint. But as it was rather difficult for him to get from his booth to theirs, there was very little chance of his leaving so soon.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you say the word ‘Garrigill’ and naturally my ears perk up. Now, normally I’d inquire what two lovely lasses such as yourselves are doing hanging about with the likes of my dear cousin here,” Orson said, shoving an elbow into Felix’s side. Charisma and Flossie eyed their friend who seemed smaller somehow, sitting next to his cousin who though hunched over slightly, was broader in shoulders and it made him seem like a big man. “But, I remember what Felix was like as a boy. He always did have a way with charming the ladies. Good to see that hasn’t gone away. Speaking of ladies, how is—”

“Enough, Orson. What is it you want?”

“It’s not what I want, dear cousin. It’s what you need from me. You see, there’s only two ways I can think of to get inside Garrigill. One is if you’re a member, which you no longer are.”

“And the other way?” Flossie asked, her curiosity buzzing as her leg starting bouncing under the table. Charisma knew whenever Flossie did that it meant she was getting really excited.

“If you’re dead. All magicians, even the former ones,” Orson said, glancing in Felix’s direction, “are given the benefit of a proper service once they’ve passed. It’s the least we can do. And since you’re not dead…”

“No, I dare say I’m not. And while I want to get to the bottom of who that—” Felix started to say but stopped himself when he remembered they were in mixed company. “Let’s just say I’m not that committed to the cause that I’d die to get us inside.”

“Now see, that’s where I come in. It just so happens that I can get you in. For a small fee, of course.” Orson rubbed the thumb on his right hand across the other fingers. The universal symbol for money.

This was when it all came flooding back to Felix. What happened to cousin Orson is what happened to most of the Lyford family after most of them were laughed out of the business or forced to move far away, they drank and gambled. Orson was the best and worst offender. He always managed to keep his head just above water financially so that he never was off his rocker drunk in a ditch but never skint either. Felix guessed his money was obtained from foolish women who found Orson handsome when he was younger and quick with the smiles and tricks. But when the Lyford’s were no longer a household name, Orson disappeared same as Felix. 

“I’d rather not take you up on your offer, dear cousin. It stinks worse than a week old fish left out in the sun,” Felix said.

Charisma leaned forward in her seat and whispered to Orson. “How much?”

“Now, wait a minute—” Felix started but was interrupted by Orson who stared daggers directly at him before returning his gaze towards Charisma with a smile.

“The lass asked how much and I intend on answering her. See, I offer my services, not for the money. I can get money anywhere. I’m a man of means. No, it’s not money that I want. I’m in search of answers little lass. See, it wasn’t too long ago that Lyford’s were loved by everyone.” Felix rolled his eyes. This was a story he’d heard one too many times and not just from his cousin but other Lyford relations as well. “What I want is to get that back. I want back what was taken from me by him and something tells me whatever you three are cookin’ up will provide exactly what I’m looking for.”

Felix started to shake his head. “No, you’ve got this all wrong. We’re not on some redemption mission. I’m simply helping out my neighbors and that’s it. When it’s done I return to the comfort of my small life in my small apartment. Whatever you think this is, it’s not. I am truly sorry, Orson. I’ve said it so many times now I’m sure it stopped sounding sincere a long time ago. But what’s been done cannot be undone.”

His voice cracked under the pressure of his own words. He wished his apology could fix everything that became broken the moment he made his mistake. He wished he could go back in time and never perform on stage that day. He could’ve gotten sick and let someone else do the magic trick. But he can’t. He hated his cousin for being there and bringing it all back to the surface again.

“What do you say little lass? Give me a reason to do more than just drink,” Orson said. And for the first time his own ache showed in his eyes. They were big and round and hazel, staring, pleading, with Charisma and then over at Flossie.

“What do you know about the stranger everyone’s talking about?” Flossie blurted out before anyone could stop her.

Orson’s eyes widened then he furrowed his eyebrows, leaned back and spit on the floor. “That piece of crud. Yeah, I heard of him. Came into town not two nights ago. Stumbled into The Red Boot and started shouting about being chased. I couldn’t make heads nor tales about what he was on about. Then he bumped right into me and with his ranting and raving the bugger pulled out a deck of cards!” Orson paused for a moment to see their reactions. All of them remained silent. Orson smiled. He knew. “Blimey, I thought. If he’s found with that and I’m keeping company with him, we’d both be at the end of a rope come sunrise.”

“So what did you do? Send him down the street and as far away from you as possible,” Felix said sarcastically. He waited for Orson to contradict him but he didn’t. “That’s exactly what you did, isn’t it? You stupid man.”

“Oh, and what would you have done? Welcomed him with open arms? I don’t think so.”

“So, you saw the deck. He actually pulled it out and showed it to you?” Charisma asked. She could feel the bulge of the deck in her hidden pocket and suddenly it was cutting into her unlike any other time of the day. She wanted to take it out and let it breathe. Let herself breathe.

“I saw it, aye. But I made him put it away. He said he was going to use it to expose the king as a fraud. Whatever that means. I told him he was going to get himself killed if he didn’t stay quiet. Then I took him outside and he wandered off.” Felix shook his head in disbelief. “What? I did the man a favor.”

“No, you didn’t,” Felix said. “You sent the man to his death.”

“How do you know? As far as I heard the king is still looking for him.”

Felix looked over at Flossie who in turn looked over at Charisma. She looked at Orson and said, “He died on my doorstep yesterday. But not before giving me this.” Charisma pulled out the deck of cards and placed it in the middle of the table. “We’re trying to find out why he came to me, who killed him, and who he was. If you want to help us, we accept, but as Felix said, there is no guarantee any of the answers will help you.”

“Where’s the book?” Orson asked. He didn’t look at Felix but Felix knew he was talking to him. Orson turned his head towards Felix and stopped looked at the deck on the table momentarily to ask his question again. “Where is the book? I know you have it. Well all know you have it.”

“You mean the codex—” Flossie started. She stopped when Felix shot her a look to shut up.

“Now see, you wouldn’t know about the codex unless it was told to you specifically. So, you did steal it. I knew it. Well, if you’ve got the deck and you’ve got the codex then that’s it then. They’ve finally been brought together as it was foretold, what, several hundred years ago.”

“As it was foretold?” Charisma asked.

“They’re not magicians, Orson. You mustn’t—”

“Don’t you tell me what I mustn’t do, dear cousin. You created this mess, remember. The way it was explained to us growing us, the deck and the codex belonged to a man who came to Wondermere long before it was even called Wondermere. He performed his magic to anyone and everyone. Anyway, the way it ends is the king’s son, unable to perform even a simple card trick banished the man with his codex and his deck and no one ever heard or saw him again. They say he managed to escape, though no one knows exactly how, and when he did he took his deck and codex with him. He gave the deck to one person and the codex to another. As long as they were separate then I would make it harder for the king or any future kings to completely be rid of card magic which he hoped would make a triumphant return to popularity. Card magic was intended to unite us, not divide us. Didn’t he tell you all this?” Orson said, looked over at Felix. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t have. The codex was entrusted to the Lyford’s and we spent most of our existence trying to find the deck. Last we heard it was on the other side of the world and we would likely never see it again. But we always held out hope. And kept the codex safe. Until it was taken not shortly after Felix, here, ran away. I always knew he took it. His parent’s wouldn’t heard a negative thing against him. But I knew.”

“Well, we had the codex. But it was taken. That’s why we need to go to Garrigill. The person who took it says we need to go there and bring the deck with us,” Charisma said. Felix wanted to object to telling all this to Orson but he realized it wouldn’t do him much good to argue. His cousin, as much as it pained him to admit it, was right about the only two ways to get into Garrigill. That meant Felix couldn’t get them inside. But he wasn’t so sure Orson could either.

“I’m in. Before they put me in the ground it will be nice to witness history. The deck and the codex together. Though, are you prepared for what this all means, little lass?”

Charisma was confused. She looked over at Felix who shrugged his shoulders.

“Didn’t you bother reading the damn book you stole? What did you steal it for if not to read it?”

Felix couldn’t answer that. Not now. Not ever. At the time he stole it thinking he could use it as a way to get back in good graces with fellow magicians. But when more and more time went on he realized it would actually make them hate him more when they found out he was the one who stole it. First he embarrasses them, then he steals from them. It was better if he just disappeared and remained hidden for everyone’s sake.

Ever since then he couldn’t bring himself to read the book. All it did was remind him of the many mistakes he made over the years and how he could never set it right.

“Well, if you’d bothered to read even the first page you would know that it said, ‘whosoever holds the deck must be willing to perform the magic on the stage to set things right again.’ Which means, if he gave you that deck, you must be willing to use it…at the colosseum.”

Charisma picked up the deck and for the first time the weight of it was tremendous. It never felt heavier.

She looked over at Flossie who said, as best friends often do in moments like this when their words of wisdom are needed the most, “Well, damn.”

EPISODE 5 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

Felix discovers it’s not as easy as he might think to sleep with a corpse at the foot of his bed. What’s even more troubling is the next morning when he discovers something very important of his is gone and a ransom note left behind. Nothing left to do but rush to tell the girls, not before he bumps into an old friend he hasn’t seen in a very long time.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FELIX

The content below was originally paywalled.

By the time Charisma, Flossie, and Felix returned home, they were all far too tired to have any further discussions and agreed to leave any thoughts they may have had about what they uncovered till the morning.

Charisma entered her flat and immediately went to bed. She didn’t bother to get undressed make sure her front door was locked. Her mind wandered to the events of the last couple of hours. A stranger on her doorstep, then dead by the fireplace. Felix, a disgraced magician. But he was her friend. She didn’t care even though Flossie seemed to be most upset by the news. Poor Flossie. Her best friend. They grew up together and have been inseparable ever since they could walk. 

She finally succumbed to sleep when the front door opened and closed quietly. She wanted to get up and see who it was but exhaustion won out in the end.

By the morning Charisma was woken up by the smell of bacon in the air. Her eyes shot open to find her face smushed into her pillow. She rotated her feet. One shoe was still on. The other having fallen off some time in the night. Her first attempt at movement came with a slight wince as she reached for her head that was pounding. She knew not enough hours of sleep was had but as the sun was peeking through her curtains and hitting the bedroom floor, she was in no position to return to bed.

Replacing her shoe on her foot she sniffed her pits and shrugged. Not likely to make anyone who came close faint, she made her way out of the bedroom to hear humming coming from the kitchen. 

Holding a pan in one hand and spatula in the other, her father turned to face his daughter.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing yesterday?” he asked. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that. I took the liberty of making you breakfast. I know it’s not typical of me but I was able to leave work early and so…” His voice trailed off when he saw the look of surprise on his daughter’s face. True, he was never one for cooking breakfast, let alone cooking in general, but it couldn’t have been that shocking. Could it? “I thought you like bacon?”

“I do, father. Of course. Thank you,” Charisma said, taking a seat at the table. She tried not to look like every move was agony but her face was an open book to her father. Always was.

“What have you and Flossie been up to this time?” Chester asked, tipping the pan. Charisma watched as three strips of bacon and some eggs tumbled onto the plate.

Her stomach started to grumble and she licked her lips. It had been a long time since she ate breakfast in her kitchen with her father. She always just got something from the corner shop near where the carriage drops them off in the morning outside of the colosseum.

“Nothing, father. I wish you wouldn’t accuse Flossie of getting me into trouble all the time. I’m perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on my own.”

Their relationship, or lack thereof, had been tenuous at times ever since Charisma became old enough to procure a job at the colosseum. It gave her a level of independence she never had before. It also frightened her father that she might one day up and leave him the way his wife did a long time ago. His daughter was making her own money. It was only a matter of time. They both knew it. But what helped them avoid the awkwardness was the differing work shifts. With Charisma at work all day and her father at work all night, it meant they hardly saw each other at all. And yet here he was, in their kitchen, cooking.

“Why were you let out early?” Charisma asked, taking a bite of the bacon and savoring it on her tongue. 

Chester sat down opposite her at the table with just two pieces of dry toast and a cup of coffee. “I’m just worried about you, Charisma. The reason I’m home is because the king is in one of his tirades again.”

“I know,” Charisma chimed in, her mouth full of eggs but she didn’t let that stop her from talking. “The guardsmen were here last night. Looking for some stranger.”

Chester shot up from his chair. He knocked the table and caused coffee to spill over but he paid it no mind. “They were here? In this house? Did they touch anything? Take anything?”

Charisma had never seen her father in such a panic before. “I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching all of them. They weren’t here very long. Sir Gareth and his men simply came inside, looked around, and left. Why, father? Is there something here you didn’t want them to find?”

He relaxed his shoulders slightly and sat back down to try and convince his daughter that nothing was wrong. “Not at all. No. All the same. You and Flossie mind how you travel. I am glad you have the carriage to take you to and from work. Till this man is found there’s no telling what might happen.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were let out early, father?” She finished her plate and slid it away from her. Not a crumb left on the plate.

“Safety, I suppose,” he answered, his shaky voice not as reassuring as she’d liked but before she could press him, Flossie came bursting through the front door.

She skidded to a stop when she saw Charisma’s father sitting at the table. “Mr. Price, sir. I didn’t expect you here this morning. Do I smell bacon?” Talking a mile a minute, as usual, Flossie plopped down in the chair beside Charisma.

“No time, Fliss. We’ll be late for the carriage. Come on,” Charisma whispered to her. She grabbed Flossie by the arm and yanked her up out of the chair towards the door. On their way out she tucked a satchel under one arm. “Get some rest, father. You look tired,” she said, closing the door behind them.

“What was that all about? You nearly pulled my arm off, you know,” Flossie said, wrenching her arm out of Charisma’s grasp.

It was the early morning so the streets were only bustling with the people who needed to get to work early. Also, a few night workers, usually covered in dirt and ash, coming home from working on the railroad just outside of Wondermere. It was the latest invention that promises to bring even more travelers to worry the king.

Two such gentleman, dirty from working on the railroad, whistled at Charisma and Flossie from across the street. One of them shouted, “Ladies in trousers sets my heart all a flutter,” and winked at them.

“I wish I could say the same about men covered in yesterday’s dirt. Better get home to your wife before she’s out here shoutin’ for ya!” Flossie shouted back.

“Get a load of that one. All mouth she is. That’s what happens when you let a woman wear pants. She starts getting ideas into her pretty little head.”

“Ignore him,” Charisma said. “He’s not the first and he certainly won’t be the last to say something to us. It’s not worth it.”

“I know,” Flossie said. “Maybe he’s right. Ever since I’ve been wearing pants I feel, I don’t know…like I’m more important somehow. Take this murder, for instance. I could solve it. Why bother the guardsmen with it? They have a hard enough time appeasing the king. No, this is definitely a job for Flossie…and associates,” she said, nodding at Charisma.

“Oh, I’m an associate now, am I? Not a partner?”

“All the great detectives have a sidekick. I’ve never read one that had a partner, though. An equal. No, I solve the mysteries and you follow me around to remind me how great I am.” Flossie squared her shoulders and hooked each thumb in the small hidden pocket of her pants, her head held high.

Charisma shook her head and hooked an arm around Flossie’s as they walked the rest of the way in silence towards the end of the street where their carriage was waiting.

The coachman tipped his hat at the ladies, making sure to give a wink to Charisma who Flossie reckons has taken a fancy to her. 

“Morning missus,” he said and then in a whisper, “She was raising hell at me already. Beckoning me to leave if you took any longer to arrive.”

Flossie sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes as she pulled open the carriage door.

“Took you two long enough to get here. Youth today, Amelia. They’ve no head for manners these days.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Amelia shouted, tipping to the side so she could better hear. Hannah repeated her statement a bit louder as Flossie stepped inside and took the seat opposite Amelia. Charisma raised her eyebrows at the coachman and smiled before getting inside herself and shutting the door behind her.

Hannah banged the roof of the carriage with her cane. It was shaped like a thin tree branch with bends and knots throughout. The handle was made of brass and the tip matched it in kind.

“Our apologies. We were accosted by a couple of gentlemen on the way,” Charisma said. Flossie gave her a look. She didn’t think it was necessary to explain why they were just a few minutes late but Charisma was always the polite one.

“Well, if you insist on wearing trousers what do you expect, my dear. It certainly is no way to get a man, and at your age. I’m sure your father is beside himself with grief,” Hannah said.

“I’M SURE THAT’S WHY HER MOTHER—” Amelia started to say but stopped short when Flossie kicked her as she raised her leg to cross it over the other.

“Oh, I am sorry, Lady Davenport. How clumsy of me,” Flossie said. She then took Charisma’s hand in her own.

Hannah and Amelia averted their eyes. Each choosing to look out of their respective windows as the carriage pulled away.

“LOOKS LIKE RAIN TODAY, HANNAH, DON’T IT?” Amelia shouted rather loudly. It was an unfortunate result of working on the south side of the colosseum during its reconstruction after the fire. The use of heavy machinery meant shouting was the only way anyone could be heard. As such, Amelia lost most of her hearing and shouts even when no noise can be heard.

“Yes, love. But I’m sure Miss. Pomroy will have us working inside so we can stay nice and dry.”

Flossie rolled her eyes again. “What’s in the bag?” She asked Charisma, ignoring the conversation 

The carriage started to bounce and rock as the ground changed from dirt to cobblestones. They were getting close to the colosseum in the heart of Wondermere.

Charisma opened it to show her the two paintings she took from Ember Hall last night. Amelia glanced over and gasped when she recognized one that was laying on Charisma’s lap.

Flossie looked over at Amelia who quickly averted her eyes to look at her friend, Hannah, who was fussing with her handbag looking for something. Amelia used her elbow to poke Hannah but she continued to pay her no mind.

“What is it, Amelia? Can’t you see I’m looking for my handkerchief?” Amelia moved her eyes, rather obviously, towards the paintings on Charisma’s lap. When Hannah landed on it she gasped as well.

“How did you come by that painting?” Hannah asked, pointing a shaky finger at the painting.

“That is none of your business,” Flossie answered back.

“Like hell it isn’t. My great-grandfather painted that. Commissioned it special for…” Amelia squeezed Hannah’s arm just then. “Well, that part’s not important. What is important is that you’ve clearly stolen something that doesn’t belong to you. Now, hand it over.”

The carriage stopped abruptly and all four passengers were jostled.

“Come on. We don’t have to stay here and be accused by the likes of them,” Flossie said, grabbing the paintings and putting them back in Charisma’s bag.

“Wait, she’s right,” she said, looking at Hannah, “but I didn’t steal them Mrs. Cropley, only borrowed. I promise I was gonna put ‘em right back after I examined them.”

“Examined them?” Hannah said. “What is all this about? Last I heard of these paintings they were hanging in Halls across Wondermere. You haven’t been in a Hall recently, have you Ms. Price? You know as workers at the colosseum it is strictly forbidden.”

“Trust me, no one knows the rules better than Charisma. She’s the last person who’ll go about breaking them. And if she says she’s gonna return them, she means it.”

The carriage door opens and the coachman sticks his head in. “I’m sorry ladies but I have another errand I must run. If you wouldn’t mind?” He steps aside to give everyone a chance to exit the carriage.

Once they have, a rather stout woman of considerable age is shouting to get Charisma’s attention.

“Don’t think this is the end of our conversation, Ms. Price,” Hannah says as she and Amelia walk into the colosseum and out of sight.

“And where have you lot been?” Mrs. Pomroy, never one to mince words, appeared as if out of nowhere and immediately started giving orders before waiting for anyone to reply. “And I need someone to cover for me while I’m gone.” Mrs. Pomroy wore a button up blouse that did not manage to conceal her well endowed bosom. Her collar was already stained from sweat as she is always the first one in before sunrise and the last to leave long after sunset. 

Her black trousers were covered in dirt all the way down to her boots which went all the way up to her knees. They were her favorite boots that she’d wear even when visiting the king. Tracking mud was her way of letting the upper class know she was always hard at work.

“Aye, where you headed?” Hannah asked as she stepped down from the carriage after Amelia.

“I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours. Have you two finished preparing the paper for the main event? You know we need it ready once his royal highness gives me the list,” Mrs. Pomroy said, taking one step into the carriage they just exited. The coachman was noticeably annoyed as he did have business elsewhere but it was too late. Once she stepped onto it he could only go where she directed. “Charisma, be a love and hold down the fort till I get back.”

“Surely he doesn’t have the list already?” Charisma asked, assuming Mrs. Pomroy was on her way to see the king. “The theaters are only just now opening for the season.”

Hannah and Amelia departed, turning their nose up as they went about their duties for the day.

“I have been summoned. But I suspect it has to do with this stranger nonsense. I hear he’s gotten himself in a right tizzy over it,” Mrs. Pomroy said, a chuckle in her voice and a smile on her face that was so wide they all, including the coachman, joined her. Then she contorted her face to give them both a stern stare. “Listen, the pair of ye, till this bloody business is settled you’re to go straight home at the end of the day. I won’t have any of my ladies mixed up in whatever this is.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pomroy.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pomroy.”

Charisma and Flossie stepped aside to let the carriage pull away with Mrs. Pomroy safely on board.

They turned to enter the colosseum when they heard a rather loud PSST behind them. They spun round again to see across the street, Felix was waving for them to to follow him.

He rounded a corner into The Crooked Arms pub. It was frequented by magicians but not this early in the day so it was mostly empty, save for one drunk man at the bar and the barman. He ignored Felix who entered first but when he was followed shortly by Charisma and Flossie his curiosity was piqued.

Felix went to the furthest end of the pub where the booths were and sat down. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were crumpled. He looked like he hardly slept last night and he said just as much when he was joined by Charisma and Flossie a moment later.

“We have a problem, ladies?”

“What? Don’t tell me our friend got up and walked away in the night?” Flossie joked.

Felix rolled his eyes and continued, ignoring Flossie’s crass comment. “Someone broke into my flat last night.”

“Why would someone want to break into your flat? She’s the one with—” Flossie stopped herself and looked back at the barman who averted his eyes too slowly. They knew they couldn’t be in the bar for much longer without suspicion.

“The book. They took the book!” He shouted then lowered his voice, trying to remain calm.

“The Codex? Are you sure? Maybe you misplaced it,” Charisma posited.

Felix shook his head. “No, definitely not. I hid it in my secret hiding place and when I went there this morning to check, I found this in its place.” He pulled out a piece of folded paper and unfolded it onto he table between them.

Charisma and Flossie looked down at the large handwriting that read:

“Garrigill? Why does that name sound familiar?” Flossie said.

Charisma didn’t say a word, just pulled out one of the two paintings she borrowed from Ember Hall and placed it beside the note. Flossie looked at it and immediately saw the name etched on the saw the magician held up in the air.

“Why did you take that?” Felix asked.

“I knew it would be important somehow. And the woman. The magician in the painting. Do you now them?”

“No, but I know who painted it and I know where Garrigill is as well.”

“That’s good. So we’ll go there tonight and find out who took the codex and why,” Flossie surmised.

“It’s not that simple, child. Garrigill is…well…it’s a members only sort of place. I haven’t exactly been a member for a long time, you see…”

“That’s where I’ve heard the name. It’s the place where real and true magicians come together isn’t it. To the outside world all magicians are enemies of each other. Each wanting the top prize and the glory for themselves and their families. But Garrigill is where they leave all that at the door and they pledge the code to each other,” Flossie said.

“What’s the code?” Charisma asked.

“I don’t know. But I can guess…” Flossie answered, not taking her eyes off of Felix. “What I’m puzzled by, is how a man who’s hated by magicians everywhere, family practically disowned him, ends up with the codex?”

“If you haven’t figured that out by now, Ms. Finnegan, however do you hope to be a crack detective?” Felix asked, trying to find his voice again. “I don’t need you reminding me of my faults. I know them well. I’ve not once made any commentary on your family. Though there be much there, of which you are well aware. Instead, I think we need to do what we can to get to the bottom of all this before any more trouble lands on our doorstep.”

“Trouble?” The voice came from the other side of the booth where they were sitting and startled the three of them. “Garrigill is the den and you poor misguided fools are no lions.”

EPISODE 4 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

While visiting a magician hall to visit an old rival of Felix’s for help to get them closer to finding a murderer, Charisma, Felix, and Flossie meet the Great Davoren. He manages to shed some more light on Felix before the king’s guardsmen arrive.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF CHARISMA

The content below was originally paywalled.

“I can’t believe we’re riding together in the same carriage with…with…” Flossie fumed so much she could hardly finish her sentence.

“Yes, alright. So what if he’s the once and former Carnelian? That shame is not our shame. He’s chosen to deal with it the only way he knows how. Granted, it’s been by hiding,” she said, with a nod in Felix’s direction. He simply folded his arms and gave a short but no less curt grunt. “We’re on our way to Ember Hall. A ride which he’s graciously paying for. What we hope to learn there is less a concern to me, as we still have no way of actually gaining entry.”

“Your sweet words could charm the morning dew off a withered away tree branch, Ms. Price. Were I not well beyond my years I might take offense. But, all that is in the past and I intend to keep it there.” He stared daggers at Flossie who returned them. 

She wasn’t about to let what he’d done to the entire magician community go unscathed by her tongue. True, they needed him for now but when the time was right she would let him know exactly how she felt and hope she never had to lay eyes on him again. “As I said before, I’m acquainted with Ember Hall. It wasn’t my former place to use but I had a friend who practices there.”

Flossie sucked her teeth at his claim. “I doubt you had friends back then or now. You really think someone there will recognize you and just let us walk right in? You’re daft as well as old.”

The transition from upper Wondermere to lower was a rocky one as the roads became less dirt and more cobblestone. It was easier to clean but no less bumpier for the convenience. As the carriage bounce and rocked slightly their conversation ceased.

Ember Hall was located just inside of lower Wondermere, as most magician halls are required to be. Their purpose is to provide a space where magicians can practice  their acts prior to a performance in a theater or the colosseum. Ember Hall is only the second oldest hall in existence and has a reputation for dealing in magic most unusual. It’s no secret that secrets can be hard to come by when it comes to magicians so they take care not to let outsiders enter their hall without prior permission. It’s the sole reason why there can be just as many halls as there are magician acts. No one is willing to share the space.

But it’s a lucrative business, usually managed by the king who provides the space for nothing, so long as they perform their act, when called upon, at the colosseum. Also for nothing. It’s an exchange that some magicians have found unfair. Especially, under current times when halls are opening without the king’s supervision, providing their own security, and therefore no need to promise anything to a king or ruling family who needs magicians to remain relevant.

Ember Hall is one of the few places not owned by the king and therefore considered dangerous for many reasons. Chief among them is harboring fugitives who are hiding from the law for any number of reasons. For the right price anyone can seek shelter at Ember Hall. So why not this very much dead stranger.

The carriage slowed to a trot and then stopped outside of Ember Hall. It was the middle of the night but halls seldom, if ever, close. Some magicians have been known to sleep at their hall just in case someone tried to break in to steal their act or uncover their secrets.

It was a fairly busy street that ended just before a large community park where visitors have been known to picnic in the daylight and shady interactions happen at dusk. Wedged between a sweet shop on its left, closed for the night, and a pub that only opened when the sun set, Ember Hall didn’t exactly fit in so much as it stood out. A three story building with a blue colored flame over the door. A color no one understood considering the name of Ember Hall.

Felix got out of the carriage first and helped Charisma and Flossie out. The former thanked him, while the latter mumbled something about not needing his help.

The carriage pulled away, leaving them in front of Ember Hall. Before they could huddle together to come up with a plan someone shouted down to them from the top floor.

“Felix?” All three of them turned and looked up at a woman hanging out of a window. She wore an oversized black hat that was in danger of blowing away in the wind and she held it down with a white gloved hand. Her arms were the most covered as the gloves went past her elbows which was more than could be said for her dress. There was concern on Charisma’s face that this woman might tumble right out of her dress as it barely covered her bosoms that bounced the further she tried to look out the window. “It is you. Felix! Yoo-hoo!” She waved down at them with her free hand then quickly disappeared from the window.

“Friend of yours?” Flossie asked sarcastically.

“I’ve never met that woman before in my life,” he retorted.

“Well, she seems to know you,” Charisma said just as the front door to Ember Hall flung open and the mystery woman stood in the doorway. Light from within cast her in darkness as her shadow stretched across the front steps. 

Her dress managed to cover even less of her below the waist than it did above as she bent her knees and pretended to pull down her dress that was so skin tight it would never provide adequate coverage.

“Come inside, all of you. It’s freezing out there and the boss will kill me if he knew I was exposing this tiny number for all the world to see before show time.”

Before she changed her mind about the invitation they all bounded up the four steps and into Ember Hall.

“Madam, I thank you for inviting us inside, but I’m afraid you must have me mistaken for another Felix—”

“Nonsense! You’re the Great Carnelian!” She shouted and shoved him in the shoulder. “Gosh, it must be twenty years or more since I last saw you. Different times then. The Lyford family,” she said, her voice trailing off into a whisper before she realized they were all staring at her. “What brings you out here to these parts? And your friends?”

“How rude of me. Yes, this is Charisma and Flossie. My neighbors, actually,” Felix said, introducing them.

“Now wait a bleeding minute!” She shouted pushing Felix out of her way so she could get a closer look at Charisma. “I know who you are. You’re uhm…you’re that wand makers daughter, ain’tcha?” Charisma nodded and gave a half smile. She hated whenever someone mentioned the reputation of her father as if her existence began and ended with his fame in wand making. “Well I’ll be. Wait till the Great Davoren finds out you’re here. He might even forgive me for letting strangers in ‘ere. See, he credits your dad with his current run of success. Says it’s all down to his wand. I told him it has more to do with my hem line than his wand but you know men, they think it’s all about them, don’t they.” She slammed her hand on Charisma’s shoulder and the force of it nearly knocked her backwards. Luckily, Flossie was there to steady her.

“We were wondering if any other strangers have been round here tonight?” Flossie asked. She was tired of the small talk. In truth, she was tired in general and as much as she wanted to solve this mystery she knew her ability to help would be hindered by her lack of sleep.

The woman looked Flossie over up and down before taking a step back from all of them. Her demeanor instantly changed from friendly to guarded. “What are you asking that question for? What have you heard?” She took another step back. 

They were standing just inside the entrance of Ember Hall which didn’t feel so small until she started to back away from them. She was headed for double doors that were just behind her. When she bumped into one of the doors and it opened slightly they could hear shouting and loud noise just inside. Charisma craned her head to get a look through the crack in the door but could only see darkness and a spotlight moving around the room.

“Where the devil is that woman?” A man’s voice amplified louder than the rest and the noise from inside. The woman recognized it and her body suddenly tensed. Her cherry face and smile changed to pale white. The door behind her pulled open and she stumbled backwards against it until she was face to face with a striking man.

His slick black hair was so shiny the light in the entryway bounced off of it. He had a mustache that was just as black and met his thick beard that was about two inches long and perfectly shaped to his long face.

He wore spectacles that were riding the edge of his nose as he looked down and through them at the woman who was suddenly at a loss for words when she was so talkative not a moment ago.

“Where have you been? Did you not hear me calling you?”

“Sorry, sir. I just saw Felix out the window and I lost my head,” she said, bowing down to him, her cleavage barely grazing his chest he stood so close to her.

“That’s not all you’ll lose if you don’t get back to the stage this instant,” he shouted at her. She ran away without a word of goodbye to the three people she had just welcomed into Ember Hall.

The Great Davoren turned to look at who was standing there and his eyes widened when he saw Felix.

“Hello, David. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Felix said, holding his hand out for a handshake.

“How dare you come here unannounced and uninvited? Have you simply decided to forgo all the rules now that you’re a washed up magician?”

“We—” Felix started then stopped and squared his shoulders, “I came looking for you because we have a problem and I think you know what it is. He was here tonight.”

The Great Davoren wore a black tie and tales. All that was missing were the white gloves, top hat, and wand to complete his look. 

“We can’t discuss that here where anyone can be listening. You might as well come to my office,” he said. When Charisma and Flossie moved to follow he stopped short. “Just you, Felix.”

Felix shook his head. “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of them. They have just as much invested in why that man was here as any of us, more even.”

“They are not magicians, nor are they affiliated with any act I’m aware of. They could be spies—”

“My father is Chester Price,” Charisma said, volunteering this information on her own. She hated admitting how many doors it has opened for her in the past but it’s yet to fail.

The Great Davoren looked at Felix for confirmation of what she had just said and he nodded. 

“And who are you, the king’s daughter?” The Great Davoren said, looking at Flossie.

“For your information I am Flossie Finnegan. I’m sure you haven’t heard of me—”

“Well, well, well, Felix. We are slumming it ain’t we. With friends like the Foul Finnegan’s it’s no wonder you’ve been hiding.”

Flossie balled her fists and prepared to land a punch aimed right at Davoren’s jaw but Charisma grabbed her forearm and held her back firmly. 

Charisma was surprised to hear Flossie say her last name. It wasn’t something she often spoke to anyone outside of one and only friend and Charisma knew why. It was true that her family were not well liked in Wondermere, but not through any fault of their own. Circumstance forced their criminal behavior and Flossie, for all the good she’s managed to do in the world, still carries the burden of silently making amends for what her family has done and continue to do.

“I would appreciate it if we didn’t bring up past family indiscretions and stick to the matter at hand,” Felix said, stepping in to defend Flossie whom he only just realized had more in common with him than he realized. “Trust me, David, you’ll want to hear what we have to say. It involves the Codex.”

The next thing any of them know, the Great Davoren is pulling them into the inner sanctum of Ember Hall. They head straight for the stairs, Flossie trying to look at what’s happening on the stage set-up on the first floor. But Charisma kept her tight grip on Flossie, just in case, and managed to pull her to catch up with the others as they made their way to the top floor. 

A large room with just a round table and a dozen empty wooden chairs.

“Why mention the codex? And in front of them? What exactly is going on, Felix?”

“The man. He was here, wasn’t he? Why? What did he want?” Felix asked.

The Great Carnelian sat at the head of the table and leaned back in the wooden chair, it creaked slightly under his weight as he put one foot up on the table. “No. I don’t think so. You tell me what’s going on right now or I inform the king’s guard that I’ve got some people here inquiring after the man they’re looking for.”

Felix was a decade, at least, older than the great Davoren, and although he was sure he could take him on a good day, tonight he was far too tired to argue. So, he sat down across from his former friend and motioned for Charisma and Flossie to do the same.

“I’ll level with you. He showed up on my doorstep and dropped dead. From the looks of him, I’d say he’d been through one fight too many. So, go ahead and call them. It was the king’s guard who told us he was last sighted here.”

Davoren sat up after hearing this new information. “You’re here because of something they told you?” He looked at Charisma and Flossie who nodded in unison. “You fools. You led them right to my doorstep.”

“What are you on about?”

“The king has no jurisdiction here. He can only enter a hall with just cause. And you’re showing up here after what they told you, gives them just that. Damn you, Felix. I knew you’d bring me nothing but grief.” He got up from his seat and left them in the room, shouting for his crew to hide things and prepare for a visit from the king’s guardsmen.

“Did you know this would happen?” Charisma asked Felix.

He couldn’t face her when he answered, “maybe.”

“What game are you playing at?” Flossie asked. We needed answers. He’ll never tell us why that man was here now.”

“He was never going to answer our questions. I knew that even before we got here. But now that they’re all scrambling we can have a look around. Maybe see something or find something that will tell us more about his visit here than the great Davoren was ever going to tell us.”

And Felix was right. Once Davoren left them alone they did not see him again. Instead, they found Ember Hall nearly abandoned, with the crew having locked up and taken away anything that could be stolen from them as part of their act. They even went through the trouble of turning on every light, leaving no corners shrouded in darkness.

Charisma, Flossie, and Felix decided to split up. They needed to move quickly, especially as it was possible the king’s guardsmen were on their way to Ember Hall.

Charisma stayed on the top floor with Davoren’s office and a few bedrooms whenever he wished to stay the night. Felix took the middle floor that contained the props room as well as everyone’s lockers. Leaving the main floor for Flossie. She wanted that floor so she could take a peek around the stage in the hopes of finding something they left behind.

Davoren’s office seemed like it was just the table and chairs but pretty soon Charisma discovered there was more to it. Thick red and black drapes hung from the ceiling along three walls of the room. The peeked behind one to find windows that overlooked the front of Ember Hall down to the street. Walking at a steady pace from a fair distance away she could just make out bouncing lights. Lanterns carried by half a dozen men. Their leader was Sir Gareth Ravenswood. She let the curtain close and made haste to search behind the rest of the curtains.

The left side had several portraits hanging on the wall. She stepped back and pulled the curtains which slid easily on a rod to reveal them all. She recognized the Great Davoren straight away. His was the largest painting and in the center, surrounded by other magicians who must’ve resided at Ember Hall at one time or another in the past. 

Charisma gasped when she saw his face among the others on the wall. It was the stranger. His countenance was one she would not soon forget, though his expression in the painting was far different than the one he wore now. He was smiling mischievously as his gaze looked upward and to his left. She wanted to examine the picture further but knew there was little time for that. So she pulled it down off the wall to take with her. 

Something told her to look at the painting that the stranger seemed to be looking at from the vantage of his portrait. It was of a man standing behind a rectangular box, the size of a coffin. Laying in the box with her head sticking out one end and her feet out the other was his assistant. She looked skyward, as did the magician, who held up a long saw over his head. 

Upon the saw were the following letters G-A-R-R-I-G-I-L. Was it a person? A place? She couldn’t be sure but she had a feeling it was important. Perhaps more important than the portrait of the stranger. She grabbed it as well just as someone burst through the door behind her.

“Charisma, let’s go. They’re here,” Flossie said in a low whisper. They could hear loud banging and crashing on the main floor as the king’s guardsmen made a mess of the place, in search of the stranger who must be hiding out there.

“Where’s Felix?” Charisma asked.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he said, out of breath. “They’re moving swiftly. Follow me. I know a way out where we won’t be found. What’s that you have there?” Felix asked, pointing to the paintings Charisma clutched to her chest.

“Never mind that. Lead the way old man,” Flossie said. He glared at her comment but ignored it long enough to lead them to a secret tunnel on the upper floor that could only be found by someone who knew it was there.

As they crept down the tunnel which was a set of stone steps that spiraled downwards, they could hear the echoes of men shouting at each other as they tore apart Ember Hall only to find it completely empty.

EPISODE 3 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

Flossie has ambitions to be a great detective. So, when a body drops dead on her best friends living room floor, she sees this as an opportunity to uncover who committed the murder. But with the king’s guardsmen on high alert looking for a stranger, first, she must work with Felix to hide the body.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FLOSSIE

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Charisma and Flossie returned to the main room with mere seconds to have a look round for any incriminating evidence of a once dead man lying on the floor before the front door was forced open.

“Excuse us, but what is this all about?” Charisma asked, folding her arms in defiance as half a dozen guardsmen filed into the room. Their leader stood out only by the cleanliness of his uniform. His beard and mustache matched the auburn color of his hair, all curls that bounced about when he removed his helmet.

“Begging your pardon, misses, but the king has ordered us to search every flat, starting with lower Wondermere and working our way back towards the colosseum. This will only take a moment.”

“And what, may we ask, are you looking for? We might save you the trouble of tearing apart my friend’s flat,” Flossie interjected, standing shoulder to shoulder with Charisma.

“A very dangerous man,” he answered, eyeing the two women suspiciously. “Are you saying this isn’t your flat?”

“It is not. We’re here to check on a sick friend. We live next door, you see. Her father is the wand maker—” Flossie started but was cut short.

“Your father is Chester Price? THE Chester Price?” The gentleman’s eyes lit up at the mention of her father’s name. Charisma was used to this happening and although she hated to use it, she knew that now was the time to set her personal feelings aside and use it to her advantage.

“That is indeed her father—” Flossie said, trying to interject but was again cut short.

“That means you’re Charisma Price. Well, blimey. You probably don’t remember me, but the first time I ever entered your father’s shop you were no higher than me knee,” he continued, gesturing the height with his hand beside his leg.

Charisma took a closer look at him and realized he was older than he looked. His facial hair hid the signs of aging evident in his eyes. Though his smile was so large and bright when he realized who she was that it managed to take considerable age off him as well.

She spent many hours at her father’s shop when she was a child as he could not afford to pay someone to look after her and she was much too young for school. Those were happier times.

“My father had many customers and I was just a child. Were you there shopping for yourself?” Charisma asked, raising one hand to scratch the side of her head awkwardly, nudging Flossie in the process to try and get her to notice the guardsmen were getting closer to the closed bedroom door at the other end from where they stood.

“Not me, miss,” he chuckled. “I could no more pull a rabbit out of a hat as my own wife could cook one.” He threw his head back and guffawed louder than was necessary considering how close they were standing to each other. Flossie startled at the sound but she and Charisma managed to return a smile at his flat joke just the same.

“We didn’t catch your name?” Flossie asked. 

“Sir Gareth Ravenswood,” he said, extending his hand to Charisma to shake, even though it was Flossie who asked him his name. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Charisma reluctantly extended her left hand. She was surprised at how soft and smooth it was. She was expecting it to be not unlike her father’s hands. Calloused and scared. A true craftsman’s hands he would often say. She knew straight away Sir Gareth likely received his rank within the king’s guardsmen by inheritance. This meant the men under him did all the grunt work while he stood around talking to ladies of the house, as he was doing now.

One of the guardsmen approached Sir Gareth and whispered in his ear. His eyes examined Charisma then Flossie before nodding and dismissing the young guard.

“The bedroom door is closed. May we enter it? Just a routine search, of course.”

Flossie stepped forward defensively. “Is it absolutely necessary? It’s just that we just put our dear friend down for the night and he may not appreciate all of you barging in there unannounced.”

“I will be the only one to enter. You have my word,” he said and stood beside the bedroom door, waiting for either Charisma or Flossie to open it. The last thing he wanted was word of how he treated Charisma to reach her father. His rank could be taken away just as easily as it was given to him.

Charisma opened the door slowly then stepped to one side for Sir Gareth enter first. The room was dark so little could be seen by anyone entering. It contained a four poster bed tucked away in the farthest corner, tattered and faded drapes hung all around, concealing whoever was sleeping within. The shuttered windows made it reek of dust and dampness. It was a smell most unpleasant to Flossie when she assisted in carrying the corpse into the room. But she remarked how it would at least serve to mask the presence of death in the room. 

Beside the bed was a desk with few personal effects covering nearly every inch of it. There were papers with scribbled notes and illustrations, half melted candlesticks, and more dead rose stems than anyone should have in their possession, let alone an elderly man. Nearest the bed was one solitary candle, it was lit but it barely illuminated the table it sat upon as it flickered in the stillness of the room. In front of the bed was a large chest with neatly folded blankets and extra pillows on top.

As Sir Gareth entered, his heavy boots thudded across the hardwood floor. He walked to the middle of the room and looked around at every shadow and furniture before his eyes stopped on the bed. With all the curtains drawn he could not see who was inside.

“I assure you, he is fast asleep,” Charisma said. He raised his hand to silence her as he approached the bed. He leaned in close before carefully pulling back the curtain just as a low snore emerged from within.

Thick blankets covered Felix who was fast asleep, his nightcap still on his head. Sir Gareth looked around the bed that appeared to only occupy one person. He let the curtain return to its original place and gestured back towards the bedroom door. He, Charisma and Flossie exited together.

“Satisfied?” Flossie asked, putting on an air of agitation by the invasion of privacy, hoping it would get them to leave sooner.

“Not quite,” said Sir Gareth, letting a hint of frustration towards Flossie show. “Have you ever been to Ember Hall?”

“What are you insinuating? You know that would never be allowed let alone possible. Her father would have her head if he caught wind of his daughter—”

“I can answer for myself, Fliss,” said Charisma, cutting off her best friend from coming to her defense as usual. She can tell when Flossie has been pushed just a hair too far and she was afraid that point had been reached long time ago. If she didn’t intervene she may be visiting her childhood friend Fliss within the palace walls, their prison wing. “No, Sir Gareth, I have not been to Ember Hall. As you well know, it is for members of magicianary only and their assistants. I’m afraid I cannot have the privilege of such an honor and as for working for an act? Well, as my dear friend Fliss here pointed out, that is indeed out of the question. Why do you ask?”

“The stranger we are after was last sighted leaving there, headed in this direction. I simply want to make sure you steer clear of places like that at night.”

“You can rest assured I go to work at the colosseum every morning and come straight home in the evening. There is little time for late night dalliances at halls or pubs for the daughter of Chester Price.” The way she spoke her father’s name made Sir Gareth realize their relationship wasn’t as close as he expected. He only wish he had a father like her’s, who got to work with magicians all day, fitting them with a wand in the evening hours. Instead, he was left with a family legacy that was relegated to service and duty to the crown for his life and the life of his children and his children’s children.

Sir Gareth bowed his head slightly to Charisma to signal his departure. When he reached the door he spun on his heels and asked, “Does your father know you’re spending time with strange men at night?”

“Felix isn’t a strange man. He’s my friend. And of course my father knows I check in on Felix from time to time. Living alone can be lonely sometimes. Fliss and I like to keep him company when we can. Will that be all, Sir Gareth?”

“Yes,” Flossie said, “we must see what mess your men made of our flats while we weren’t there to observe them. I’m sure they’ve left us with quite a lot of work to do before we can retire for the night.” She pushed past Sir Gareth and waited for him on the other side of the front door threshold. He whistled to his men who, upon hearing it, stopped whatever they were doing, wherever they were, and filed outside immediately to await further instructions.

“It’s not safe out here at night, miss,” said Sir Gareth, taking a step towards Charisma, whispering so only she could hear his words. “This stranger is believed to be dangerous. I’d hate for something to happen to Chester Price’s only daughter on my watch. If you see anyone suspicious just scream. My men are posted everywhere. You may not see them, but they are there. One of them will be sure to hear you.”

He held a hand out for hers. She hesitated and that was enough for him to know his instincts that she was hiding something was right. “I shall be sure to tell my father of the care and interest you’re taking in his only daughter at night. I’m sure he’ll want to extend his thanks.” She placed her hand in his and they locked eyes as he raised it to his lips, placing a kiss upon her fingers before letting go. 

“No need. It is a public service I am commanded to provide to everyone of Wondermere.”

Once he and his men were out of Felix’s flat, Flossie reentered and slammed the door behind her. 

“We’ll have to keep an eye out for him. I don’t like the way he said my father’s name,” said Charisma. Flossie peeked out the window beside the front door to confirm there was no one in sight before pounding on the bedroom door. “And why tell us about Ember Hall so freely. A trap to see if we’ll go there?”

“If it was then he’s smarter than I give him credit for,” Fliss said, stepping back from the window before shouting, “All clear. You can come out now!”

“Fliss, we can’t,” Charisma said, recognizing the smirk on Flossie’s face all too well. The last time she saw that smirk was when it was her first day working at the colosseum. Charisma got the job through her father and vouched for Flossie who was in desperate need of money after her aunt and only means of support became too ill to work. She was given the task all new members of Miss. Pomroy’s staff are given, to sweep the entrance of the colosseum. It was a right of passage that Flossie nearly failed had Charisma had not caught her scheme first. There Flossie was, availing herself of a cigarette, leaning against the entryway of the colosseum, while a couple of vagrant children she’d met only that morning were busy doing her job. When Charisma confronted her about it she explained Miss. Pomroy would be pleased with her initiative and that perhaps Charisma needed to take up smoking to relieve the strain she was clearly under. It was then that Flossie understood why Charisma was Miss. Pomroy’s protege and her best friend. She finally relented, once the children were done and properly paid, of course. And as it happened, Miss. Pomroy arrived not a moment later to congratulate Flossie in her exemplary work and in half the time that anyone else, including Charisma, had done it on her first day.

“Can’t what?” Fliss asked with a wink.

Felix came bounding out of the bedroom, filled with excitement. “Do you think they suspected anything?”

“He didn’t even bat an eye at your chest in front of the bed. Stroke of genius having us put him in there. I just hope he won’t be too much trouble to get out. We had as tough a time as any getting him inside,” said Flossie, her heard racing from the excitement.

“Just a moment, Felix,” said Charisma, trying to keep her line of questioning from getting changed to the subject of the body in the chest. “Flossie, we are most definitely not going to Ember Hall tonight or ever.”

Felix’s eyes widened at the mention of Ember Hall. He knew it very well. “What is this about Ember Hall?”

“Sir Gareth of the king’s guardsmen saw fit to inform us that’s where our gentleman friend in your chest was last sighted before headed this way. I can think of no better place to go next if we ever hope to find out who he is and why he dropped dead at your feet after giving you this,” said Flossie, pulling out the deck of cards she had hidden in her pants pocket and holding it in the air.

Upon seeing the deck Felix staggered back. “I don’t believe it. I mean, I had a feeling he had it but not until now did I truly believe it. You two have no idea…none at all…”

Flossie furrowed her eyebrows in Felix’s direction. She knew he was hiding something and now was as good a time as any to come clean. “I’ve had about enough of your cryptic words and behavior, Felix. Out with it. What exactly do you know about all this?”

Felix took a deep breath and tried to straighten his back before looked only at Charisma. “If he is who I think he is, then I know him very well. In order for you two to understand I have to show you something. Wait here please,” he said, and disappeared to his bedroom, returning only a few moments later with a book  that he gripped with unsteady hands. “This book and that deck belong together. That is to say, the owner of the deck wrote this book.”

Flossie handed the deck to Charisma. “You mean…That’s the lost Magic Codex of Cards?” Felix nodded his head before taking a seat at his table nearby. “I don’t believe it. That book is a thing of legend.”

“So is the deck you hold in your hands. Both believed to have been destroyed long ago. And yet, here they are. Not only very much real but back together as they were meant to be. Now, that I do not believe is coincidence or chance luck.”

“No Felix, it surely isn’t,” said Charisma. “It’s a damn reason good enough for going to Ember Hall.”

“Thank you, Charisma. Here I thought I’d have to talk you into you. I do believe being my friend this long has brought about your curiosity too.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Fliss. You forget how difficult it is to gain entry to a place like Ember Hall. As women we can’t simply walk in. We need to have employment with an act that is a member of the hall. We neither have employment nor know what acts are members of that particular hall.”

“I do. I know an act that should still be members of Ember Hall,” Felix said, shifting his eyes away from Charisma and Flossie.

“Now Felix, why would you know such information? That’s usually kept very much a secret within the inner circles of magicianary. Not even a magician would divulge that kind of information to another magician for fear their performance and tricks could be stolen. Unless…I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Charisma asked, looking from Flossie to Felix and back again.

“My dear Charisma, we are standing in the presence of the Great—no, the SHAMED Carnelian.”

EPISODE 2 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

A dead body on her living room floor isn’t Charisma’s only problem. Felix, her much older next door neighbor decides to pay a visit when he thinks he recognizes the man on the doorstep. The retired magician does know the man and what must be done with the item given to Charisma. His chance for redemption within the magician community.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FELIX

The content below was originally paywalled.

Charisma sat up in her chair, a look of fright on her face. Flossie, ever the devoted friend, carefully lifted the rectangular box from the table and put it in the hidden pocket of her pants. Although women had been allowed to wear trousers they were not provided the benefit of traditional pockets. This was intentional, to dissuade them from putting their hands inside of them as a sign of posturing, which ladies ought never do. But they needed pockets, surely. 

Whatever they needed, Miss. Pomroy was quick to provide. Without the knowledge of any men, nor the textile company that manufactured the trousers, Miss. Pomroy took them and fastened them with pockets unnoticeable to anyone besides the wearer. The pockets weren’t very big but the perfect size for whatever they may need to hide.

The knock came again, this time a loud banging. Flossie crept to the window beside the front door and pulled the curtain back slowly.

“Ahh!” She screamed, and letting go of the curtain, backed away from the window.

“Well, who is it?” Charisma asked in a whispered tone. She went to the window and peeked out herself. She sighed with relief when she realized it was their next door neighbor. “It’s only Felix,” she said, “should we let him in?”

They both looked over at the dead man then back at each other. They had to tell someone what happened and hope that a cooler head would know how best to handle the situation. Without saying a word they nodded in unison and agreement before Charisma opened the front door.

Felix stormed passed her, a faint smell of cherry that Charisma recognized as what her father fills his pipe with just before bed, followed him inside. She couldn’t believe what he was wearing and her eyes were like saucers staring at the sight of him in a long over coat, pajama pants, and slippers. 

He saw the body lying on the floor, devoid of life and turned back to the girls, his hands on his hips. “Fine mess of trouble you’ve found yourselves in.” He looked at Charisma who gripped the open door to steady her wavering nerves. “Don’t just stand there with the bloody door open for all the world to see,” he said and quickly pried the door from her hand to shut it. She stumbled slightly. Flossie rushed to her aid and helped her back to her seat at the table.

Felix walked over to the man and kicked him with a slippered foot, that nearly came off, to make sure he was truly dead.

“You recognize him, don’t you?” Flossie asked, standing beside him.

“I knew of him, yes. You might say I expected him, actually. Just not in such a state as this. And not at your door.”

“Dead, you mean. You didn’t expect him to be so dead. And in my home now. What will my father say? What shall we do, Felix?” Charisma was slowly starting to unravel as her mind caught up with what was happening.

“Steady on, young lady. No use flying off the handle just yet. There is work to be done. Now, did he say anything or give you anything…perhaps…that might help us understand what brought him here?”

Flossie furrowed her eyebrows. “What makes you ask that? How do you know if he gave us anything? Who exactly is he, Felix?”

Felix took a seat at the table and pulled his nightcap, that matched his pants, off his head, revealing just a few wisps of hair on top and snow white hair around his ears, neatly combed back into a ponytail. “I suspect he is the man in possession of the First Deck.” Both girls inhaled simultaneously when he spoke those words. “That’s him, isn’t it? And he gave you the deck? Where is it? Hand it over.”

“How can we be sure what you’re saying is true? How can we trust your word that whatever we tell you won’t be blabbed to the nearest king’s guardsman?” Flossie asked, apprehensive. To even be heard uttering the words First Deck could lead to immediate imprisonment or worse.

“Fliss, let’s hear him out before we make false accusations. He’s here to help. You are here to help us, aren’t you Felix? My father never had a cross word about you. Which is more than he could say…” Charisma’s eyes were sad and tired. More than a hard days work weighed on her mind and Felix knew it. He didn’t have to be such a nosey neighbor to overhear the arguments between a father and his rebellious daughter who seemed to be exhibiting more and more signs that she was just like the mother she never knew. 

“Of course. No need to question where my loyalties lie. Definitely not at the feet of the crown, I assure you. There’s a reason the Conroy’s have precious little friends and money. If not for their hold on the colosseum they would be as irrelevant as I am.” Felix leaned forward and squeezed her hand for reassurance. “You ladies have no idea who I am, do you?” They both shook their heads. “Your father knows. He’s a good man,” Felix said, looking at Charisma he gave her a reassuring wink, then turned his gaze away towards the fire. “You’ve heard of The Great Carnelian?”

He looked back at Charisma who shrugged her shoulders but Flossie knew all about The Great Carnelian. It was evident by  the look of disgust on her face. It was a look Felix had to deal with wherever he went for years until he learned how to perform his greatest magic act of them all; hiding.

“Why mention that name in this house? Especially after praising her father. If you know he is such a good man then you know the name of Carnelian should never be spoken of here. Are you saying that’s him?” She looked over at the dead man.

Felix squeezed his nightcap in his hand, holding back the glistening of tears in his eyes.

“Carnelian? Wait, why does that name sound familiar to me?” Charisma asked.

“Because it’s the name every magician vows never to become—” Felix started, but was interrupted by Flossie who could not stop herself from sharing her truest feelings about the Great Carnelian.

“He was a shameful excuse of a magician. Last I heard, he fled. Couldn’t stay here and atone for his crimes against magicianary everywhere,” Flossie said, seething.

“And what crimes were those, exactly?” Felix retorted, becoming more and more defensive. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “I apologize, miss. I’m sure it’s just the shock of the man, you see.”

“Still doesn’t explain why would he come here? I thought the Great Carnelian would be long dead by now or at least as far away from Wondermere as possible. If the rumors are to be believed.”

“Will someone explain who this Carnelian character is and why he should show up to die on my doorstep?”

Felix put his nightcap back on his bare head as the fire had died down since he arrived. “That doesn’t matter now. What does matter is what we’re going to do with him.”

“Well, he can’t stay here! My father will be home by the morning,” Charisma said.

“There is only one thing to do. We’ll have to take him to Ten Pence Alley. It could be days before anyone notices him there,” Felix suggests, rising to his feet.

“And how exactly do you propose we take a dead man all the way to Ten Pence? Should we all skip there holding hands?” Flossie asked with a chuckle.

“I’m stronger than I look and you look like you’ve hoisted a large crate or two in your profession. Surely—”

“Excuse me!” Flossie said, cutting off his insult. “Are you calling me—”

“Strong? Capable? Yes. I am. If we each take a side I think we can manage walking him to his final resting place.”

“I think you’re both mad. At this time of night it will never work. The king’s guardsmen are known for walking in the night. My father warns me to stay inside and away from the windows for that very reason. We would stand out. It’s far too dangerous. We’ll never make it,” Charisma argues.

“Well, if you two have a better idea I’d love to hear it?”

“How about we hide him at your place?” Flossie asked. “I mean, since you’re so keen to help us. Besides, if the king finds him it can only double the guardsmen. Better that we hide him.”

“Fine, as long as we’re agreed it’s just a temporary solution at least till we come up with a better means of transport. I’m not too keen on living with a corpse during my own declining years. And don’t think I won’t still require your assistance to get him next door,” Felix said, grabbing the dead man by one side. 

“Get a load of him. A second ago he’s as young and spritely as you and I, now he’s some old git.” Flossie got to the opposite side and together they managed to hoist him to his feet, just barely, before he began to slip.

“I apologize for my friend, Felix. I don’t think you two have ever properly met, have you? She can be a bit…” Charisma started, struggling to find the right word to describe her childhood friend.

“Witty? Charming? Intelligent? I’m sure those are the words that seem to be so difficult for you to come by, dear friend,” Flossie replied through grunts and groans as she and Felix made their way to the door.

Charisma opened the front door for them and followed close behind while they awkwardly made their way next door to Felix’s flat. “I could’ve sworn you lived closer than this,” Flossie grunted, trying to make light of their current situation. Her knees began to buckle under the dead man’s weight.

“Saints above. Someone’s coming,” Charisma managed to squeak out. A few yards away were two gentlemen, arguing about something that couldn’t quite be made out, walking towards them at a fairly fast pace. As they got closer they barely glanced in the direction of Flossie and Felix, let alone the dead man they were holding up.

One of the gentlemen tipped his hat while the other smiled and said, “Evening ladies. Do you require some assistance?” More as a sign of politeness than actually wanting to help. They could tell exactly what was happening. A drunk member of the family had been out on a bender and the poor women had to be left to carry him home. In a way they both felt sorry for the poor sod and the wallop he was sure to receive when he sobered up in the morning.

“Not at all. Thank you, gentleman. We can manage,” Charisma said, stepping directly in front of them so they couldn’t see what was going on. “I’m afraid my— uncle?— Yes. My uncle has had far too much too drink. Out celebrating I suspect. Just like uncle…uncle Henry to find any reason to celebrate. I think he’s embarrassed us enough for one night.”

“Of course, miss,” the gentleman said with the smile and the two continued on their way, picking up right where they left off in their argument.

“That was a close one,” Charisma said, rubbing her hands together to steady their shaking.

“The door,” Felix grunted. “It should be unlocked.” Charisma hurried in front of them and flung it open, stepping aside long enough to let the trio in before shutting it behind her. 

Both Flossie and Felix tripped over the man in the middle and stumbled forwards, letting him fall to the floor in order to save themselves from doing the same.

“Now what?” Flossie asked, stretching her arms in the air and leaning from side to side in order to exercise the muscles she just used.

“Help me at least get him over to the sofa. We can’t just leave him lying there forever.”

Charisma held her hand up to silence them as she put her ear close to the front door. “Do you hear that?”

Felix stepped carefully over the corpse on the floor to reach his window and peer through the curtains. It didn’t take him long to know exactly what it was Charisma heard. He backed away from the window slowly.

“It’s the king’s guardsmen. They’re pounding on your door.”

“Bollocks,” Flossie said, taking a look for herself. She joined Felix in backing away from the window. “It looks like they just let themselves into your flat. They’ll be going upstairs to mine next.”

“We must act quickly. Both of you take a leg and follow me,” Felix said, turning the dead man onto his back to make it easier to lift him once more.

“You want me to help?” Charisma asked. The idea of touching a corpse turned her stomach.

“This is your mess, not mine. I could just as easily tell them I found him dead in your flat,” Felix argued.

“And he got here how exactly?” Flossie asked, coming to her best friends aid.

“We don’t have time for this. We’ll all have a date with the hangman’s noose if you don’t help me to hide him. Now, are you going to grab a leg or are we going to take our chances that the king is feeling gracious and understanding this evening?”

Charisma took a deep breath and said, “Fine, let’s get this over with.” She bent down and grabbed a hold of one leg while Flossie did the same on his other leg. Felix grabbed him from under his armpits and together they managed to lift him.

Felix led them into his bedroom just as a pounding sound could be heard at his front door.

“Open this door at once. The king’s guardsmen must search your premises immediately.”

EPISODE 1 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

Our story begins with Charisma and Flossie on their way home from a long day at work when they encounter a stranger on their doorstep who suddenly drops dead. But not before presenting something to Charisma that could get her killed if she’s ever found with it.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF CHARISMA

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The coach rocked back and forth as it labored  through busy streets. Charisma and Flossie sat together, along with two women much older in age sitting opposite. They leaned ever so slightly as the coach took turns at a quick pace. Charisma gripped the curtain that kept the setting sun out to steady herself.

At one crossroad they heard the coachman shout at pedestrians on foot to, “watch where ya goin’,” before urging the horse to continue on its way by blowing short whistles and cracking the reins on their back.

Charisma pulled the curtain back slightly to watch the setting sun through the tall buildings as they road out of central Wondermere. Once the coach passed under Tarney Bridge she knew they were safely out of the city and headed towards lower Wondermere where everyone lived.

The women on the left who sat opposite Flossie, opened one eye and pointed it right at Charisma. The light from the setting sun happened to be hitting her face at just the right angle for her to feel it and partially wake from her deep sleep. Flossie elbowed her best friend who quickly let go of the curtain. Before she could begin her apologies the woman closed her eyelid and joined her companion in their sleep.

It wasn’t long before the two older women snored in perfect harmony. After weeks of traveling to and from work every morning and night it became a sort of ritual for them to gossip in the day and sleep at night. They would tell you it was from exhaustion after a long and grueling day working at the colosseum but Charisma and Flossie worked there as well, and though they were far younger they were also just as tired.

The coach was provided by the king after much discussion and negotiations between himself and Miss. Pomroy, the caretaker of the colosseum. She argued, and won the point, that her staff worked tirelessly so that the colosseum remained looking its best for the annual events. Therefore, as recompense, they needed a mode of transportation separate from everyone else. It was indeed a luxury that Charisma and Flossie did not take for granted as they knew how long it would take them if they were forced to travel on foot or by hiring their own coach which they could never afford. 

To minimize the need to hire dozens of coaches per worker, which was a luxury the king hated being forced to provide, he insisted those who live nearest each other were to travel together and Miss. Pomroy quickly agreed. She saw it as a learning experience for everyone to get to know each other outside of the colosseum. Miss. Pomroy was always looking for ways to teach everyone, especially the youth, a lesson whether they wanted to learn one or not. Flossie always did find it interesting that Miss. Pomroy, who lived even closer to her and Charisma than their two snoring passengers, was the only one to have her own coach home. 

And while Charisma, as always, was willing to engage in conversation with everyone she came in contact with, the older women saw the evening ride as a time to sleep before the chores of tending to the home. Charisma and Flossie soon became used to the snoring and thought of the sound as a pair of frogs conversing on a lily pad. The hats on their heads, held down loosely by hairpins, bobbed up and down but did little to wake the sleeping women.

“I hope I sleep that well when I’m older,” Flossie said, elbowing Charisma who craned her head to look out the sliver of curtain at the sunset changing the sky from yellow to orange, then deep purple.

“Not me. I don’t think I could ever grow tired of watching the sun set. Look at it. I think it’s best inside—”

“The colosseum at night. Yes, I know. I swear if I had a pence for every time you mentioned the way the sun looks when it sets over the colosseum we could finally afford a private coach. Which would be a pity. Look at what we’d miss every night.” As if on cue, the two women opposite them snorted simultaneously. Charisma and Flossie giggled.

“You don’t understand what it’s like. To feel the suns rays on your face that brief moment before the lamps come on. The spotlight. The crowd…”

Flossie crossed her legs, forgetting how close they sat to the women opposite them. Her foot kicked one of them and she woke instantly. A look of disgust on her face as she glared at Flossie, her eyes traveling from her face down to her crossed legs and back again.

“Women have been allowed to wear trousers for years now. Makes the kind of work we do a lot easier. High time you quit turning your noses up about it,” Flossie snapped,  uncrossing her legs but crossing her arms in defiance of the death stare. The older woman leaned forward, brushed her petticoat of the phantom dirt that Flossie’s shoe didn’t leave behind and swiftly returned to sleep. Her snores rejoined her friend’s as if there were no interruption at all. A brief hiccup in their duet.

“You mustn’t speak to her that way. You know what a gossip she is. Ever since the whole trousers issue you know what Miss. Pomroy said. ‘Just because we wear them, doesn’t mean we ought to start behaving ill-mannered like men—”

“It will only lead to trouble.” Flossie parroted. “I know. A minor slip. I won’t let it happen again. Promise.”

The coach came to a sudden stop and the coachman shouted from above, slamming his foot down at the same time, “Hallow Lane.”

This is where Charisma and Flossie exited the coach every night. After Charisma opened the door on her side and stepped down, she held her hand out for Flossie. No sooner did her feet touch the ground did she feel the door slam shut behind her and someone shout, “scrub!”

Without a second thought, Flossie retorted, “FUSSOCK,” as the coach pulled away, her fist waving in anger.

Charisma gripped her arm to hold her back. “You better hope she didn’t hear you or we’ll be in for an earful tomorrow.”

“Not you, my dear. Miss. Pomroy has never said a negative word against you since you came to work at the colosseum. Let’s face it, Charisma, you are her protégé. I’m sure she is getting you ready to take her place when the time comes.”

They started to walk down Hallow Lane road to their house. Charisma and her father occupy the first floor of a two floor home in a row of identical homes done us the same. There were street lamps that lit there way every few feet. The wind blew fallen leaves around them as their feet echoed on the cobblestone street.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fliss. You know only a Pomroy woman can take her place and I’m not a Pomroy.”

“No, but her son is…”

Charisma’s jaw dropped that her best friend would even suggest such a thing. “Tom? Pimple-faced Tom Pomroy? Isn’t he nearly ten years older than us? I would never. Take that back.” She pinched Flossie in the shoulder.

“Ouch! Okay, okay, fine. Bad idea. Doesn’t mean if given half the chance she wouldn’t pass it on to you. As she has no daughter, you’re the closest thing. Unless old pimple-face finds him a wife and has a daughter.” Charisma suddenly stopped walking. Flossie, a few steps ahead, realized this and turned back to see a concerned look on her friend’s face. “What is it?”

“There’s a strange man standing in front of our house. Don’t you notice him?”

Flossie turned back up the street, their building was only a few more yards away on their side of the road. Some buildings had lights on inside but they didn’t do much to illuminate a dark figure teetering from side to side in front of their door.

“Oh dear. It must be some damn drunk fool who lost his way. I told you, ever since that tavern opened at the other end we’d have this happen. See, I was right.”

“Well, whoever it is, we better help him find his way home. Last thing I need is my father finding some strange man passed out drunk on the doorstep when he comes home in the morning.”

They both approached the swaying man cautiously and managed to flank him on either side before beginning their line of questioning, just in case he should decide to fall over.

“Sir, can we help you?” Flossie asked, attempting to keep him still by gripping his right arm and shoulder. Charisma rushed to the front door and turned on their lamp beside the doorway so they could see him more clearly. Perhaps they might recognize him.

“Fliss, is that…blood?” Charisma asked, pointing a shaky hand at the man’s abdomen.

He wore a long black overcoat that stretched to his dirt covered boots, a frayed hat concealed his face, though Flossie could see he had a thick beard and mustache, and carried a sack slung over one shoulder.

“Help me. He’s getting heavier to hold up,” Flossie said through gritted teeth as she struggled to help him stay upright. He was clearly about to collapse. Charisma grabbed him on the left side and together they managed to lean him against the front door. Flossie unlocked it and all three of them pitched forward into the house, the man hitting the floor with a thud.

“Heavens above,” Flossie said, kicking his feet inside and closing the front door quickly behind them before anyone noticed what had just happened.

The man began to groan as he lay on the ground in the hall. The home was small but contained two apartments. Each with their own living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms. As Charisma’s apartment was easiest to get to, they each grabbed hold of his arms and dragged him as best they could into the living room, turning him over onto his back. He had become far too heavy to get up onto the nearby couch.

“Who do you suppose he is? I don’t recognize him.” Flossie removed his hat to get a better look at him by the dim fire that was dying out in the fireplace. Charisma quickly added two logs, bringing it back to life.

“I’ve never seen him around here before either. Ever since that tavern we have been getting more and more strangers around here. None of them on our doorstep though,” Charisma said, kneeling down beside him to check his wound. “This looks much worse than I thought,” she said, placing her hand over the wound and pulling it away to show it covered in blood.

“Not good. Really not good. Hey, you, wake up.” Flossie patted him on either side of his face to rouse him but he just winced in pain.

“That’s not going to get us anywhere, Fliss. Maybe his bag will tell us who he is.” Charisma started to rifle through his sack which fell open near the front door. It was empty.

Flossie, on the other hand, got a pitcher of water and before she could be stopped, poured it over his head. He gagged and choked and spluttered awake. His eyes opened wide he looked about the room crazily. “Help—me—.” His words were labored and short as he was unable to take a breath. He reached out a hand. Flossie pulled away but Charisma was unafraid of him. He reminded her of her father and she hoped that if he were ever in danger, that someone would help him. She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. He focused his eyes on her, deep black pools there would soon be lost forever. “Take—this—please—.” He reached in his coat pocket and with a shaking hand covered in tiny scratches, he placed something in her hand, and held it tightly between them. “You—mustn’t—be afraid.” He coughed and blood trickled out the corner of his mouth.

Flossie put a hand on Charisma’s shoulder for support.

“Your—destined—to be great…” The last words be spoke before he took his last breath. His hand fell away from hers. She stared at him for what seemed like eternity forgetting where she was or what had just happened. She blinked and one tear fell down her cheek.

“Charisma,” Flossie said, her voice bringing her back to the present, “What is that?” She pointed down at Charisma’s hand.

She glanced down and stood up immediately, her eyes never leaving its sight. “Not possible.” She tossed it onto the dining table. 

Flossie turned up the light over the table and looked at it closely without touching it. She turned her head towards Charisma with a smile. “It is indeed. You’ve just been given the most wanted item in all of Wondermere. Damn I hate your luck!”

“This isn’t funny, Fliss. If that’s what we both think it is, I could be dead by morning.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ve still got a dead body on your hands to deal with. That might send you to the gallows just as easily. So why not this!” Flossie said, reaching her hand out to pick it up before turning to Charisma for permission first. Charisma nodded her consent. “We should open it, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely not,” Charisma said and snatched it out of Flossie’s hands. 

“But we need to be sure it is what we think first before we can be sure what to do about it, right? It’s the only logical thing to do.”

“The logical thing to do would be for me to take it and chuck it in the fire right now. Forget we ever saw it or knew it existed.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Flossie said, taking a seat at the dining table. “Damn, I wish I smoked cigarettes. This is the moment when Kinter or Turpin would light a pipe while they discuss the case.”

“The case? What case? There is no case, Fliss. If I get rid of this no one will be any the wiser.”

“Why do I seem to be the only one remembering the dead man lying on your floor? Do you plan on putting him in the fire too? I’ve read up on things like this and your small fire would hardly get rid of a dead body. No, what we’ve got to do is put him somewhere until we find out what this is all about. It’s what Kinter and Turpin would do, surely.”

Charisma flopped down in the chair opposite Flossie in defeat. She knew her friend was right. She also was just as curious about this thing she was just given. She placed it gently down on the table and rested her chin on the table beside it, staring at it, daring herself to open it.

Then came a knock at the door.