Night's Pleasure
Page 1
Prologue
The magician billed as the Remarkable Renaldo stood alone in the center of a large, well-lit stage. A pair of tight black trousers clung to his long, muscular legs. His feet were shod in a pair of supple black leather boots. A long black cloak hung from a pair of broad shoulders and swirled around his ankles when he moved. Posed against the blood red curtains behind him, he was a formidable sight, one to make nine-year-old Savanah Gentry press closer to her father. Savanah didn’t know what the devil looked like, but she had always imagined him as being ugly and wearing a long black cloak. The Remarkable Renaldo had the cloak, but he definitely wasn’t ugly, and as far as she could see, he didn’t have horns or a tail.
The magician looked out over the audience. “For my final illusion of the evening, I will need several volunteers.”
Savanah Gentry nudged her father. “Raise your hand.”
“What?”
“Raise your hand!” She was eager to know how the magician did his tricks. Perhaps, if her father got on stage, he could find out. “Hurry, Daddy!”
William Gentry looked at his only child. As always, he could deny her nothing that was in his power to give, and so, with a shake of his head, he raised his hand.
“You, there in the fourth row,” the magician said, gesturing for Savanah’s father to come forward.
“Is it all right if my daughter comes with me?”
The Remarkable Renaldo turned his attention to Savanah. The touch of his gaze on her face sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t fear; it was more like the feeling she had on Christmas morning when she knew the present she had hoped for all year was waiting for her under the tree. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited for the magician’s decision.
“If you wish,” Renaldo decided at last.
Savanah felt as if her heart were trying to jump out of her chest as she followed her father up the stairs and onto the stage, which was empty of props or scenery save for an ordinary-looking white door that was mounted on wheels and stood in the middle of the floorboards.
The magician quickly selected three other men. Then, with a flourish, he moved across the stage to stand beside the door. He opened it, stepped through, and then turned toward the men.
“Gentlemen. And little lady,” he added, sketching a bow in Savanah’s direction, “please examine the door and see that it is quite ordinary.”
Savanah’s father was the first to step forward. He ran his hands over both sides of the door, inspected the frame from top to bottom, and then stepped through the opening.
The other men did likewise.
Feeling self-conscious, Savanah stepped through the opening, then hurried to her father’s side.
“And now, if you will examine the floor,” the magician requested. “All of it. I wish you to assure the audience that there are no hidden trapdoors.”
Amid some laughter from the audience, all the men got down on their hands and knees and crawled around the stage, running their hands over the floorboards. One by one, they gained their feet.
“Are you all quite satisfied?” Renaldo asked.
The men nodded in the affirmative.
“Very well.” The magician turned to face the audience once more. “May I please have four more volunteers?”
Hands went up all around the room, along with shouts of “Over here” and “Pick me.”
When the new volunteers had been chosen and were onstage, the magician pointed to one of the men and said, “I would like you to move the door to a place of your choosing. Anywhere at all. On the stage, of course,” he added with a smile.
The man looked thoughtful a moment. After closing the door, he pushed it toward the middle of the stage, as close to the footlights as possible.
“Very good,” the Remarkable Renaldo said. He turned to the other volunteers. “If you will all follow me, I would like you to form a circle around the door so that you will be able to see me clearly from every angle.”
Savanah looked at the magician, wondering if he meant her, as well, but afraid to ask.
As though reading her mind, he turned toward her and smiled. “You, too, my little lady,” he said with a courtly bow.
Everyone on the stage moved toward the door’s new location, making a loose circle around it.
Savanah felt her cheeks flush with heat as she took a place in the circle, with her father on her right and another man on her left.
The eyes of everyone on the stage were focused on the magician as he stepped into their midst and instructed them to hold hands.
When they complied, the Remarkable Renaldo opened the door. He stuck his arm through the opening, waved to the crowd, and then closed the door.
“I hope you have enjoyed this evening’s performance,” he said, looking out at the audience, “but the time has come for me to bid you adieu.”
And so saying, he opened the door and stepped across the threshold.
And disappeared from sight.
Chapter One
Northern California, sixteen years later
Savanah Gentry stared at the stage, her eyes narrowed as she studied the magician who strutted back and forth. This time, he was billed as Santoro the Magnificent. He wore his long black hair pulled away from his face and his attire was a little different, but she knew he was the same man she had seen on a number of other occasions under a variety of names. Clad in a pair of tight black trousers, a white muscle shirt that clung to his upper body like a second skin, and a pair of knee-high black leather boots, he was the most handsome man Savanah had ever seen. She had seen him at least a dozen times in the last sixteen years, thanks to her father’s fascination with magicians.
She had to admit that she was also intrigued by the art of magic and by those who practiced it, even though she knew none of it was real, and that the amazing effects performed on stage were accomplished through collusion with a member of the audience, misdirection, deception, or sleight of hand. She knew David Copperfield hadn’t really made the Statue of Liberty disappear, but she had been amazed by the video just the same.
Of course, magic was a two-way street, with the magician attempting to perform a trick that was so incredibly clever it would completely baffle the audience, while the audience let itself be entertained by an effect they knew was accomplished through deception.
William Gentry’s passion for magic, illusion, and the Supernatural bordered on obsession, surpassing even his daughter’s interest. He seemed especially obsessed with the man now calling himself Santoro the Magnificent, and had, in fact, compiled a notebook that spanned the magician’s career over the last sixteen years. Of course, finding the magician through the years had been hit and miss, since he continually changed his name. And now Renaldo or Zander or Antoine or whoever he was, was in Kelton again, albeit under yet a different name.
Savanah had gone to the theater every night for the last week. Sitting in the front row, she couldn’t decide if the “Magnificent” in Santoro’s title referred to his remarkable abilities as a magician, his arrestingly handsome face, or his incredible physique. Most likely all three.
She had to admit that, aside from his astonishing good looks and his hard, lean body, he was far and away the best prestidigitator she had ever seen, and she had seen many. Santoro the Magnificent didn’t do anything as ordinary as sawing a woman in half or making an elephant disappear, although Savanah was pretty sure he could manage both feats with ease. No, he stood on a bare, well-lit stage and performed the impossible. She had seen him step into an open box on the left side of the stage and, seconds later, step out of a similar box on the right side. He had caught a bullet, fired by the local chief of police, in his bare hand. He had levitated a full-grown horse into the air. He had levitated himself three feet off the floor, and while hanging suspended in midair, had invited everyone in the audience who was so inclined to come up and see for themselves that there were no invisible wires holding him up. Savanah had accepted that invitation and left the stage more convinced than ever that he was the real deal, a true magician. A recent article in a neighboring newspaper suggested that Santoro the Magnificent had sold his soul to the devil in order to obtain his remarkable powers. She couldn’t help wondering if that also accounted for his devilish good looks.
One of the highlights of the magician’s act occurred when he stood in the spotlight at the front of the stage and vanished from sight, only to reappear moments later in the rear balcony of the theater. She had seen similar gags performed before, but always there had been a trick involved—some sort of sleight of hand or a stunt double, because it was virtually impossible for a man to teleport himself from one place to another in a matter of seconds.
Savanah would have traded her brand new Jimmy Choo suede boots—boots that she had scrimped and saved for—to know Santoro’s secret. If it was a trick—and what else could it be?—it was the best one she had ever seen. She remembered standing on the very stage he was on now, close enough to touch him, when she was nine years old. Remembered watching him open an ordinary-looking door, step through the opening, and disappear. To this day, she was convinced he had dropped into a cleverly hidden trapdoor. After all, people didn’t just vanish into thin air.
Santoro’s most astonishing feat occurred when he transformed into a wolf in full view of the audience. Smoke and mirrors, some said, but Savanah was sure it was more than that. Mere illusion, others said, and she might have agreed if she hadn’t seen him perform, up close and personal, on several occasions. There were rumors that he was a Werewolf, but she had dismissed the idea, since she had seen him change on nights when the moon wasn’t full.
Savanah recalled seeing him perform on her fourteenth birthday. He had been billing himself as The Marvelous Marvello at the time. Once again, he had called her out of the audience. Was it mere chance that he had picked her, or did he remember her as she remembered him? He had bid her watch closely as two men tied his hands and feet with thick rope and then bound him with golden chains. Once again, he had disappeared before her eyes, leaving the ropes and chains behind.
The magician billed as the Remarkable Renaldo stood alone in the center of a large, well-lit stage. A pair of tight black trousers clung to his long, muscular legs. His feet were shod in a pair of supple black leather boots. A long black cloak hung from a pair of broad shoulders and swirled around his ankles when he moved. Posed against the blood red curtains behind him, he was a formidable sight, one to make nine-year-old Savanah Gentry press closer to her father. Savanah didn’t know what the devil looked like, but she had always imagined him as being ugly and wearing a long black cloak. The Remarkable Renaldo had the cloak, but he definitely wasn’t ugly, and as far as she could see, he didn’t have horns or a tail.
The magician looked out over the audience. “For my final illusion of the evening, I will need several volunteers.”
Savanah Gentry nudged her father. “Raise your hand.”
“What?”
“Raise your hand!” She was eager to know how the magician did his tricks. Perhaps, if her father got on stage, he could find out. “Hurry, Daddy!”
William Gentry looked at his only child. As always, he could deny her nothing that was in his power to give, and so, with a shake of his head, he raised his hand.
“You, there in the fourth row,” the magician said, gesturing for Savanah’s father to come forward.
“Is it all right if my daughter comes with me?”
The Remarkable Renaldo turned his attention to Savanah. The touch of his gaze on her face sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t fear; it was more like the feeling she had on Christmas morning when she knew the present she had hoped for all year was waiting for her under the tree. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited for the magician’s decision.
“If you wish,” Renaldo decided at last.
Savanah felt as if her heart were trying to jump out of her chest as she followed her father up the stairs and onto the stage, which was empty of props or scenery save for an ordinary-looking white door that was mounted on wheels and stood in the middle of the floorboards.
The magician quickly selected three other men. Then, with a flourish, he moved across the stage to stand beside the door. He opened it, stepped through, and then turned toward the men.
“Gentlemen. And little lady,” he added, sketching a bow in Savanah’s direction, “please examine the door and see that it is quite ordinary.”
Savanah’s father was the first to step forward. He ran his hands over both sides of the door, inspected the frame from top to bottom, and then stepped through the opening.
The other men did likewise.
Feeling self-conscious, Savanah stepped through the opening, then hurried to her father’s side.
“And now, if you will examine the floor,” the magician requested. “All of it. I wish you to assure the audience that there are no hidden trapdoors.”
Amid some laughter from the audience, all the men got down on their hands and knees and crawled around the stage, running their hands over the floorboards. One by one, they gained their feet.
“Are you all quite satisfied?” Renaldo asked.
The men nodded in the affirmative.
“Very well.” The magician turned to face the audience once more. “May I please have four more volunteers?”
Hands went up all around the room, along with shouts of “Over here” and “Pick me.”
When the new volunteers had been chosen and were onstage, the magician pointed to one of the men and said, “I would like you to move the door to a place of your choosing. Anywhere at all. On the stage, of course,” he added with a smile.
The man looked thoughtful a moment. After closing the door, he pushed it toward the middle of the stage, as close to the footlights as possible.
“Very good,” the Remarkable Renaldo said. He turned to the other volunteers. “If you will all follow me, I would like you to form a circle around the door so that you will be able to see me clearly from every angle.”
Savanah looked at the magician, wondering if he meant her, as well, but afraid to ask.
As though reading her mind, he turned toward her and smiled. “You, too, my little lady,” he said with a courtly bow.
Everyone on the stage moved toward the door’s new location, making a loose circle around it.
Savanah felt her cheeks flush with heat as she took a place in the circle, with her father on her right and another man on her left.
The eyes of everyone on the stage were focused on the magician as he stepped into their midst and instructed them to hold hands.
When they complied, the Remarkable Renaldo opened the door. He stuck his arm through the opening, waved to the crowd, and then closed the door.
“I hope you have enjoyed this evening’s performance,” he said, looking out at the audience, “but the time has come for me to bid you adieu.”
And so saying, he opened the door and stepped across the threshold.
And disappeared from sight.
Chapter One
Northern California, sixteen years later
Savanah Gentry stared at the stage, her eyes narrowed as she studied the magician who strutted back and forth. This time, he was billed as Santoro the Magnificent. He wore his long black hair pulled away from his face and his attire was a little different, but she knew he was the same man she had seen on a number of other occasions under a variety of names. Clad in a pair of tight black trousers, a white muscle shirt that clung to his upper body like a second skin, and a pair of knee-high black leather boots, he was the most handsome man Savanah had ever seen. She had seen him at least a dozen times in the last sixteen years, thanks to her father’s fascination with magicians.
She had to admit that she was also intrigued by the art of magic and by those who practiced it, even though she knew none of it was real, and that the amazing effects performed on stage were accomplished through collusion with a member of the audience, misdirection, deception, or sleight of hand. She knew David Copperfield hadn’t really made the Statue of Liberty disappear, but she had been amazed by the video just the same.
Of course, magic was a two-way street, with the magician attempting to perform a trick that was so incredibly clever it would completely baffle the audience, while the audience let itself be entertained by an effect they knew was accomplished through deception.
William Gentry’s passion for magic, illusion, and the Supernatural bordered on obsession, surpassing even his daughter’s interest. He seemed especially obsessed with the man now calling himself Santoro the Magnificent, and had, in fact, compiled a notebook that spanned the magician’s career over the last sixteen years. Of course, finding the magician through the years had been hit and miss, since he continually changed his name. And now Renaldo or Zander or Antoine or whoever he was, was in Kelton again, albeit under yet a different name.
Savanah had gone to the theater every night for the last week. Sitting in the front row, she couldn’t decide if the “Magnificent” in Santoro’s title referred to his remarkable abilities as a magician, his arrestingly handsome face, or his incredible physique. Most likely all three.
She had to admit that, aside from his astonishing good looks and his hard, lean body, he was far and away the best prestidigitator she had ever seen, and she had seen many. Santoro the Magnificent didn’t do anything as ordinary as sawing a woman in half or making an elephant disappear, although Savanah was pretty sure he could manage both feats with ease. No, he stood on a bare, well-lit stage and performed the impossible. She had seen him step into an open box on the left side of the stage and, seconds later, step out of a similar box on the right side. He had caught a bullet, fired by the local chief of police, in his bare hand. He had levitated a full-grown horse into the air. He had levitated himself three feet off the floor, and while hanging suspended in midair, had invited everyone in the audience who was so inclined to come up and see for themselves that there were no invisible wires holding him up. Savanah had accepted that invitation and left the stage more convinced than ever that he was the real deal, a true magician. A recent article in a neighboring newspaper suggested that Santoro the Magnificent had sold his soul to the devil in order to obtain his remarkable powers. She couldn’t help wondering if that also accounted for his devilish good looks.
One of the highlights of the magician’s act occurred when he stood in the spotlight at the front of the stage and vanished from sight, only to reappear moments later in the rear balcony of the theater. She had seen similar gags performed before, but always there had been a trick involved—some sort of sleight of hand or a stunt double, because it was virtually impossible for a man to teleport himself from one place to another in a matter of seconds.
Savanah would have traded her brand new Jimmy Choo suede boots—boots that she had scrimped and saved for—to know Santoro’s secret. If it was a trick—and what else could it be?—it was the best one she had ever seen. She remembered standing on the very stage he was on now, close enough to touch him, when she was nine years old. Remembered watching him open an ordinary-looking door, step through the opening, and disappear. To this day, she was convinced he had dropped into a cleverly hidden trapdoor. After all, people didn’t just vanish into thin air.
Santoro’s most astonishing feat occurred when he transformed into a wolf in full view of the audience. Smoke and mirrors, some said, but Savanah was sure it was more than that. Mere illusion, others said, and she might have agreed if she hadn’t seen him perform, up close and personal, on several occasions. There were rumors that he was a Werewolf, but she had dismissed the idea, since she had seen him change on nights when the moon wasn’t full.
Savanah recalled seeing him perform on her fourteenth birthday. He had been billing himself as The Marvelous Marvello at the time. Once again, he had called her out of the audience. Was it mere chance that he had picked her, or did he remember her as she remembered him? He had bid her watch closely as two men tied his hands and feet with thick rope and then bound him with golden chains. Once again, he had disappeared before her eyes, leaving the ropes and chains behind.
