Chapter Thirteen
Sinclair
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about Jayne following my mom’s footsteps. After all, her path hadn’t led her back to my father like it was supposed to. But I was also nervous that Jayne would find something bad.
I had no idea what that something bad might be. Part of me didn’t want to know. And part of me was desperate to find out.
Jayne’s willingness to help somehow made me love her more. I hadn’t thought that possible, considering how much I already loved her, but there it was.
She went through the little door, giving me a wink and a smile before she disappeared into the darkness, the last bit of light sparking off her glittering top.
I knew the wink was to reassure me, and it did. Even so, I left the door open just in case she needed to retreat quickly.
Thankfully, Jayne had her own serious magic, skills my mother didn’t have. Sure, my mom was a zombie, but the ability to eat brains wasn’t really a defensive weapon. Not in the way that being able to freeze someone in a solid block of ice was, which Jayne could do without blinking an eye.
My dad headed for the steps. “I’m going to wait for her. I’ll be in the lobby.”
“Okay.” He looked miserable, which I understood, as I was feeling the same way myself, but I could tell my father was blaming himself for whatever had happened. But there was no way he’d done something to cause my mom’s disappearance.
We didn’t even know how or why she’d gone missing yet.
A couple of seconds later, Jayne popped out through the door again. “Anybody have a flashlight? It’s pretty dark in here.” She looked at me. “I don’t know how your mom did this in the dark.”
“Zombies have excellent night vision,” I said. “And what about the flashlight on your phone?”
She made a little perturbed face. “The battery died. I forgot to charge it before we left for the store, then I used up the last of it taking pictures for my dad and uncle.”
“Here, take mine,” Birdie said as she dug into her purse. She found it and held the phone out. “You should have a way to reach us anyway. In case…just in case.”
“Thanks.” Jayne took the phone and went back into the passage.
I couldn’t just stand there and wait. I got my own phone out, turned on the flashlight and started looking around the area near the cushion.
There was nothing on the floor that seemed unusual. Birdie and Jack, who’d been remarkably silent, helped me look.
Then Jack straightened. “Don’t take this the wrong way, son, but is there any reason your mother would want to disappear?”
I almost snapped, but I knew he meant well. “No. They were very happily married.”
Birdie pursed her lips. “That’s a good question. And one the police will ask.”
I shook my head. “We can’t engage the police. They won’t understand my dad’s magic. And the fact that my mother is an actual zombie.”
She didn’t look convinced. “But if there’s foul play involved—”
“I understand, but it’s my dad’s call.”
“Sinclair, I know these are your parents, but in nearly half of all domestic cases, the husband is to blame.”
I straightened and gave her a hard look. “Do you really think my father is involved in this?”
She frowned. “No. Anson is a good man who clearly adores your mother. Just getting to know them over the course of the wedding was enough to teach me that. But the odds are the odds for a reason.”
“Not in this case they aren’t.”
Jack nodded. “He does seem to love her dearly. And she him. Say, you mentioned not being able to go to the police because of your dad’s magic, but this ice block trick didn’t really seem to incorporate much of your dad’s illusion ability. He said so himself. It was all tricks and trapdoors and secret passageways.”
I hesitated, thinking. “You’re right. And that’s generally not how my parents do things. I need to ask my dad about that.”
The trapdoor above us opened, and my dad and Jayne peeked through. “Come on up,” she said.
“On our way.”
As soon as we met them on the stage, I started in with questions for my father. “How many times have you practiced this trick?”
“Enough to perfect it,” my dad answered. “But not as many times as we have some of the others. That’s because of the ice. It takes so long to make those blocks, and we were eager to debut it.”
“About that. Why use so little of your own magic to do this trick? Real ice? Mom actually going through a passageway to get back into the theater? Most of the rest of your tricks are all your own illusions. Actual magic. Not smoke and mirrors.”
My father sighed. “Part of that is out of necessity. The trick was inspired by our visit to the North Pole, as you know. But creating the block of ice as an illusion just wasn’t as impressive. It didn’t look right, no matter how many times I tried it, no matter how many ways I practiced it. There was also the matter of logistics and keeping things real for the sake of our cover. Suddenly having a block of ice on stage that hadn’t been manufactured for us would be hard to explain.”
“I get that,” I said. They employed a vast number of stagehands. At least one of them would wonder how that block of ice just appeared.
“The rest is my doing. Right before we came to see you in the North Pole, Xavier from the Dove and Wand called to tell me he had a rare book come in. A book supposedly from Martin Beck’s library.” He looked at Birdie and Jack. “Beck was Harry Houdini’s manager.”
They both nodded, instantly understanding.
“Of course, I had to have the book, so I bought it the same day he called. It was fascinating. Many early escapes were detailed, including a few I’d never heard about or seen performed before.” He took a breath. “It inspired me to do some actual non-magical magic. Old-school stuff. Your mom agreed. And so, thanks to that book and the trip to the North Pole, the ice block was born.”
“I see.” My father had always admired the history of the art of illusions. “Who built the trapdoor and the tunnel?”
“The stage manager had the trapdoor built, but the tunnel’s been there. Not sure what it was used for before us. Probably other magic acts? This theater has housed a lot of different shows. The Oasis has been here since 1963.”
Jayne turned toward my dad. “Could you use your magic to get her back?”
He shook his head slowly. “I wish I could. The best way I can explain it is that my conjuring, when it comes to moving people and things, works like Star Trek’s transporter beam. I need coordinates.”
“Oh, right,” Jayne said. “I remember when you came to the North Pole. You needed longitude and latitude.”
“That’s right. With a new place, that’s how it works. Now, I could conjure myself into my dressing room or out to the lobby or even back to the house, but those are all places I am intimately familiar with.” He looked at me. “Without knowing where your mother is, I’m helpless.”
“We’ll find her,” Jayne said.