Anthony Francis - Frost Moon

She grinned and canted her head slightly, never stopping the weaving of buckles. "I'm a quick learner," she said, "and it isn't the first time."

Savannah clipped the leash to his neck, and he tossed his head, going "ruf, ruf." The sun had set, and I saw Darkrose stalking up, her all in white leather to complement Savannah's black, towing a black puppy servant in white leather matching her own. The two of them lined up next to each other, almost like an honor guard, and then a grizzled older man walked up to me, supported by Vickman, Darkrose's hard-eyed, bearded bodyguard.

"Sir Charles!" I said with delight. "I'm so pleased to see you!"

Sir Charles smiled at me, dressed in a tuxedo with his signature cat-o-nine-tails whip dangling from his belt. "Dakota," he said, releasing Vickman and putting a hand heavily on my chair. "Might you do me the honor of being my shoulder to lean on in tonight's performance?"

"I'd be honored," I said.

And so I got to enter the Masquerade like BDSM royalty, preceded by Savannah and Darkrose, Jinx and Sir Charles on either arm, with Alex pushing from behind as my motor. The crowd cheered, though it probably had a lot more to do with the matching vampires and dog slaves in white and black leather than any accolades for me or Sir Charles.

We went to a special area right at the base of the stage, right beneath the raised bar and tables where Savannah and I had always liked to camp out at so we could see the dance floor. It would have been hard to get a better view.

"So, Sir Charles," I said breathlessly, as Alex led Jinx off, "do you have a wonderful show planned for us this evening?"

He smiled, a little weakly, a little wistfully. "I'm just a guest of honor today," he said. "I don't have the endurance anymore to perform. It's frustrating because it's not my muscles-it's the ticker. I can start swinging, but in less than a minute, I'm out of breath."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't worry," he said. "I can sit in a chair with a phone and my Rolodex and whip up a performance just by calling in a few favorshalf the performers in this town owe their start to me, and would jump at the chance to fill my shoes. The Secret Room is on later, and Darkrose and Saffron have something planned. But first, we have a very special show."

Savannah and Darkrose rejoined us, taking posts on either side of us with the dogs kneeling at their feet. "Hey, wait a minute," I said. "What, you're going to allow the leather dogs and vampires in and not have them do anything?"

"We have an extensive dog and pony show later. Right now, we're here to be seen and let the crowd… simmer," Savannah said. "Besides, we-actually, all the performers-wanted to see this show first."

Jinx stepped to the stage, guided by Alex. "And now, dear friends, we are proud to present a very special demonstration of magic," she said, whipping out her spirit cane and extending it to its full length. She drew it in a great circle through the air, creating a pulsing arc of color that shimmered through every shade in the rainbow-very very Jinx! Then she drew the cane up and down, up and down in a mountain shape-and then repeated it, and my mouth opened as I recognized the logo.

"Please welcome-the Mysterious Mirabilus!"

There was a clap of thunder, and all the lights went out. Two hooded figures appeared in the darkness, each carrying a lone torch.

They stepped forward slowly, in unison, approaching two huge braziers on pillars at each end of the stage. Just before lighting them, the figures reached up ostentatiously, and threw aside their hoods.

Each bore the unmistakable features of Christopher Valentine.

"Oh my God," I said, sitting up in my wheelchair. This was the Mysterious Mirabilus' most famous trick, and he was doing it here, at the Masquerade, for us-and I had the best seat in the house! Just last week I'd seen a trick in a movie where a man 'teleported' to the other side of the stage-but this wasn't teleportation, and it wasn't a movie. There were two of him-right in front of me! Even from this close I couldn't see how it was done. They weren't masks-each commanding face had the same dark eyebrows and the same mischievous eyes. The torrent of white hair even had the same part on the same side, so there was no way the two images could be simple reflections. How was he doing it?

Then the figures plunged their torches into the braziers, and a giant flare of light lit up the whole interior of Hell. I looked back, seeing all the astonished faces, then looked forward again to see the robes collapsing to the ground and-just barely glimpse two dark catsuited figures disappearing behind the stage. But everyone's eyes were on center stage, where a single Mirabilus now stood alone, in a simple tuxedo and a top hat, which he removed and swept across the crowd to release a torrent of flapping birds of fire that darted out across the crowd before dissolving into a thousand colored sparks.

Christopher Valentine was in rare form. Each trick started as something simple-shuffling cards, juggling, pulling a rabbit out of a hat-and then grew more and more spectacular in typical Mirabilus fashion. He made the rabbit and the hat disappear, then kicked off his shoe to reveal bunny slippers, which he turned inside out to reveal the bunny, from which he improbably pulled the hat. While juggling he got a phone call and stepped off to the side of the stage, the balls still tumbling through the air in his absence; on his return he tossed the cell phone into the mix and glared irritated at it when it started ringing again, seemingly unable to stop himself juggling long enough to answer it.

And then a second Mirabilus appeared. The first eyed the phone, and his clone reached in, snatched it and answered it. He began talking animatedly while the juggling Mirabilus glared at him; then a third Mirabilus appeared, also yakking on a phone and tossing a deck of cards. Enraged, the original Mirabilus started tossing the balls at his counterparts, who tossed the phones and deck of cards back in a brief display of three-way juggling. Then the clones took the balls and phones and whirled off-while the original caught the deck, broke the wrapper off, and grinned widely to the crowd as he fanned out the cards.

Now the Mirabilus went straight back to the basics. The spotlight zoomed in, and two enormous screens projected a close-up view of his nimble, graceful hands, shuffling the cards with incredible skill. I wondered if the two projectors and the unseen camera had a big hand in the dueling Mirabiluses we had seen earlier, but I couldn't see how and frankly I didn't care: like everyone else I was mesmerized by his supremely deft prestidigitation. Cards blurred through the air, became flowers, then coins; then the coins were between his outstretched fingers, turning to marbles and gems and dice in rapid succession.

And then I looked up at his face. The lights weren't on it, but I could see Christopher was tired and sweating, scowling with the effort. The Mirabilus was getting old, and I felt saddened. Then his eye looked down and caught me, and he winked, throwing his hands up and turning the glittering marbles into ten sparks of fire.

And with that, all too soon, it was over, the Mirabilus bowing to the crowd and its thunderous applause. He motioned for the mike, also flicking his fingers down at me-and as an assistant named Elijah brought him the mike, I was shocked to see Savannah leaning down to release the bumpers on my wheelchair.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as she started to push me forward. "He's not done-"

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Masquerade," Christopher called out to the crowd warmly, waving his arms so no-one would notice he was pausing for breath. "I am the Mysterious Mirabilus, and I hope you have enjoyed my little show tonight."

The crowd went wild-as did I, as Savannah pushed me up next to Darkrose and turned my wheelchair around to face the crowd. "What, what are you doing-"