Chris Moriarty - The Inquisitor's Apprentice

“Oh, I know all about dybbuks,” Rosie said, completely oblivious to Lily’s hostile tone. “My cousin Maria walks out with a Yeshiva boy. Don’t tell my mother, though. She’d tell Maria’s mother, and wouldn’t they just scream! ”

“He can’t be much of a Yeshiva boy if he’s walking out with a Catholic girl,” Sacha pointed out.

Rosie blinked in astonishment. Clearly it had never crossed her mind that the boy’s parents would be just as upset as her own family. “Well, yeah. I guess his mother’d scream too if she found out. Hey, wouldn’t it be a hoot if they both found out at the same time? They’d probably break every window in Manhattan!”

Rosie laughed uproariously at this idea, and Sacha couldn’t help laughing with her. But he came back down to earth with a thump when Lily kicked him.

“That was a complete waste of a day!” Lily said as they settled into the train for the ride home.

“You think?” Wolf asked.

“Well, wasn’t it? We traipse all the way out to Coney Island, and all we have to show for it is a lost piece of jewelry.”

“We know the dybbuk is real now,” Wolf pointed out.

“Assuming you believe the Star of the Dusky East,” Lily scoffed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wolf said. “What do you think, Sacha? You’ve been awfully quiet today.” Wolf had taken the locket out of his pocket and was turning it over and over between his bony fingers.

Sacha stared, mesmerized. He had the oddest feeling that if something didn’t stop him, he was about to start talking — and once he got started, he wouldn’t stop until he’d told Wolf everything.

It was Lily who saved him.

“What were you saying back at Edison’s lab?” she asked him.

Sacha started. “Oh. I just… I couldn’t understand why Edison was so nervous about his prototype. Or why it looked the way it did. I mean, the one we saw at Morgaunt’s library worked just fine. And it wasn’t dripping engine oil all over his carpet, either.”

“Maybe that one was just for playing souls on,” Lily suggested.

“Yeah, but think of all those cylinders Morgaunt showed us. How did they record those if Edison’s prototype still doesn’t work?”

“You think Edison was lying to us?”

“I don’t know. But someone’s lying.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Wolf agreed.

“Well, coming all the way out here just to find out someone’s lying to us still seems like a waste of time to me,” Lily said. “We didn’t learn a thing about the dybbuk. And anyway, who on earth would even want to kill Thomas Edison?”

Sacha stared at her in disbelief. What about every Mage, magician, and immigrant in New York? He wanted to ask.

But before he could say anything, Wolf pulled that morning’s paper out of his coat pocket and tossed it onto the seat between them.

“ HOUDINI ACCUSED OF KABBALISM! ” the headline blared in inch-high italics. “Thomas Edison to Testify!”

The article explained that Edison had accused Houdini of using magic in his death-defying escapes — and was going to testify about it next week before the Committee on Un-American Sorcery. The article didn’t say what was going to happen to Houdini. But it was full of ominous words like perjury and contempt of Congress and felony abuse of magic.

It was outrageous, Sacha thought angrily. Houdini was being tried and condemned in the press without even getting a chance to tell his side of the story. “You’d think someone would at least take the trouble to go talk to the poor guy before they throw him in jail!” he blurted out.

“Actually,” Wolf said, still turning the locket in his hands, “we’re on our way to talk to him right now.”

SACHA HALF EXPECTED to find Harry Houdini making elephants disappear at the Hippodrome or hanging upside down from the Flatiron in a straitjacket. Instead they found him at home in a discreet brownstone in a comfortable middle-class section of Harlem.

Sacha had seen countless photographs of the famous Illusionist dressed in swimming trunks, his muscles bulging under the weight of chains and padlocks, his eyes starting from his head with the effort of performing some death-defying escape. But the man shaking Wolf’s hand and offering them seats in his private study wore a three-piece suit and a polite expression and looked like exactly who he really was: Ehrich Weiss, the rabbi’s son from Appleton, Wisconsin.

Sacha waited for Wolf to pull out his chewed pencil stub and start questioning Houdini. But instead Wolf produced Mrs. Kessler’s locket and handed it to Houdini as calmly as if he thought nothing at all of giving key evidence to a suspect capable of making elephants disappear in broad daylight.

“What do you make of that, Harry?”

“Pretty ordinary item,” Houdini replied. “Kind of thing you could pick up in any pawnshop. Sorry, Max. If you’re trying to hang a case on this, I think it’s going to be a slog.” “Me too,” Wolf said. “Unfortunately. We found it in Thomas Edison’s lab in Luna Park. Someone seems to be trying to assassinate him.” “What, someone finally got ticked off enough at that old windbag to do him in?” “A lot of people are going to think it was you.”

At this news Houdini burst into ringing peals of laughter so genuine that Sacha couldn’t help grinning himself. “If I wanted to kill Tom Edison,” he said when he finally stopped laughing, “I sure wouldn’t pick this week to do it. If he kicks the bucket before the month’s up, I’m out ten thousand dollars.” He plucked a sheet of paper off of his desk and handed it to Wolf. “That’s to be printed in tomorrow’s papers.” Sacha and Lily craned over Wolf’s shoulders and read the following: $10,00 °CHALLENGE!

The Great Houdini hereby and herewith agrees to wager the sum of $10,000 against an equal amount, the money to be donated to charity, if Mr. Thomas Alva Edison (a.k.a. the Wizard of Luna Park) can scientifically prove that any of Houdini’s world-famous escapes and illusions are accomplished by means of magic.

The Challenge, should Mr. Edison choose to accept it, shall be held in one month’s time in the Starlite Ballroom of the Elephant Hotel, Surf Avenue, Coney Island.

Upon Mr. Edison’s request, Houdini shall engage to perform magical feats including but not limited to escapes from straitjackets, handcuffs, and manacles, and the Chinese Water Torture Cell (patent pending), as well as the Disappearing Elephant Trick (elephant to be provided by management).

Signed,

“Well, what do you think?” Houdini asked.

“I don’t know what to think,” Wolf confessed. “Is the whole fight between you and Edison just a publicity stunt?” “A man would have to want publicity pretty bad to get himself dragged in front of ACCUSE on charges of working illegal magic.” “Don’t people in show business say all publicity is good publicity?” “If they do, they’re idiots.”

While they talked, Houdini was toying with Mrs. Kessler’s locket, spinning it between his nimble fingers and making it disappear and reappear at will. It wasn’t real magic. Sacha could see that quite clearly. It was just a stage magician’s illusion. But Houdini was so supremely skilled that Sacha couldn’t begin to guess how the illusion worked.

“The fact is,” Houdini confessed, “this ACCUSE nonsense has put me in a pickle. Whoever gave my name to the Committee on Un-American Sorcery must have known that from the moment I was accused of using real magic in my escapes, I had only three options. One, I can confess that I have used magic — and go to jail for defrauding people by magical means. Two, I can claim that I haven’t used magic — but I can only prove it by giving away all my secrets and ruining the illusion. Or three, I can challenge Edison’s etherograph.” “And you don’t think it was Edison who gave your name to ACCUSE in the first place?” Wolf asked.