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141 pages

English

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A detective with a secret... A serial killer posing as a superhero... A lie with the form of a man... Question Your Reality. Chief inspector Adelaide Shaw is on the heels of a vigilante who has enchanted the public with his supernatural performances and been declared the world's first superhero. Not convinced, Adelaide believes him nothing more than a serial killer and turns to the expertise of the excommunicated street magician and tricksmith Oliver Whitaker. Together, they will uncover the truth and enter a world where nothing is as it seems, bringing to light the two-hundred-year-old legacy of The Rictus: royal magician to Queen Victoria and the only person in history to be recognized as immortal. Now, with London as their stage, and the people there audience; these two masters of illusion will perform the acts of their lives and when they're finished nothing will ever be the same again.

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Publié par	First Edition Design Publishing
Date de parution	15 février 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781506901305
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0360€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Smile of the Rictus.

By
Julius Talen
Smile of the Rictus
Copyright ©2016 Julius Talen

ISBN 978-1506-901-30-5 EBOOK

January 2016

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means ─ electronic, mechanical, photo-copy, recording, or any other ─ except brief quotation in reviews, without the prior permission of the author or publisher.
For Beth,
To the woman who contracted parenthood with me,
Eighteen years ought to clear that up.
Prologue

Berlin, Germany.

Odd how things change.
One moment Boris Able Stian was a prominent stage magician and illusionist, entertainer of thousands with his tricks and sleight of hand.
Now, he was nothing more than a killer, running from the sirens that seemed to be closing in from all directions much faster than expected.
Confused, the giant magician ran through the streets attracting more attention than he would have liked.
In his stage attire, he looked quite the spectacle; his long black and red cape flowed behind him like a psychedelic lion’s mane.
In the years to come, many would forget that it was even a man and tell the story of the time a bear escaped the circus to run amuck in the city.
Much longer than it should have taken, Boris finally remembered his training. Hiding behind a large garbage bin, he prepared to work.
After removing his clothes, he started rubbing them on the dirty cement, within moments, his strength had caused the fabric to tear and rip while the dirt stuck to the material.
It was not long before all his clothing looked worn to shreds.
Carefully rearranging the garments, Boris no longer looked the pristine magician, but now resembled one of the unfortunate homeless that littered the city.
Hunched over to hide his giant frame, he wrapped the cape around his back in a way that not only protected his curved spine but gave the appearance that he was sporting a pack.
With a calm demeanor, Boris strode out into the afternoon traffic and crossed the street.
No longer the bear, but invisible to a public that ignored the unlucky and deplorable.
He wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he had to put as much distance between himself and the sirens as possible.
As he walked, he could not shake the feeling someone was watching him. Spooked; it took most of his concentration not to run.
As the sun set, Boris found himself at the entrance to a soup kitchen.
Not really hungry, but thinking it a good way to get off the streets, he entered the miserable building to find that it was nearly full with others dressed as dingy as himself.
He stood in line as was expected of him, and when his turn came took a bowl of the thin soup and made his way over to the most empty table where he took his seat.
Having grown up in poverty, Boris knew how to play the part. It was for this reason and this reason alone that he raised a spoonful of the watery soup to his lips and slurped. Almost choking on the foul taste, it took all his willpower just to get it down.
It was during his second mouthful that he heard a voice so musical it was almost hypnotic.
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to bother you, but has anyone ever told you that you look like the magician Boris Stian?”
Boris didn’t say anything. Instead, he studied the bowl of soup before him, trying as hard as possible to obscure his facial features from the man speaking.
Boris grunted at the man in the hope it would move him along, only it had the opposite effect as the stranger took it as a sign of interest and took the seat opposite.
“Quite the magician. Has this trick where his assistant dances on stage and he cuts her in half at the waist. Nothing special there except for the fact that her top half floats around the theater while the bottom part keeps dancing.”
“ Brilliant, Except for the fact that he stole it. In Singapore, the illusionist Yung Chen did a similar thing a few years ago, but instead of an assistant he used a dancing bat or the occasional monkey.”
“Ghastly thing, Chen died a horrible death when the axe that was supposed to pass through him ripped his chest apart.”
There was silence for a moment.
“The Funny thing is, he had this assistant at the time who was big as you, must have been seven, eight feet tall. Odd how such a gigantic and burly man could have mistaken a real ax with a light wax one.”
Boris was on the verge of running again.
Who was this man and how did he know his secrets.
No longer able to fight the urge to look away, Boris made eye contact.
The man was an unfortunate, or at least, that’s what he wanted people to believe, but Boris knew the tell-tale signs of a rushed disguise; the fact that the dirt on the man’s clothes and face was identical showed that it had been applied at the same time.
He didn’t look old, in fact, he appeared a similar age as Boris, but there was something about him. Conceivably, it may have been the way he held himself, giving Boris the impression that he was older or at the very least much more experienced.
Not bothering to commit the fake facial details to memory, Boris suddenly realized that the man had a curious look in his eye, one that reminded him of the way a boy might watch an insect go about its business.
The look scared him, but he remained seated.
“Well, Boris. I’m glad you didn’t run, had you, and it would have proven you are not the man I’m looking for.”
Boris raised his eyebrows.
“I’ve been watching you for a while, and I have to admit you are everything I’ve come to expect, maybe even a little more.”
The man leaned closer and spoke so that only Boris could hear.
“I’m a big fan of your work. What you did to Chen, well that was just spectacular. Only second to what you did earlier this afternoon to that smug assistant of yours.”
Alarmed, Boris realized that the man wasn’t referring to his ability as a stage magician or an illusionist, but as a killer.
“Look, it was an accident; I didn’t mean to kill Shelly. It was her fault. She was my assistant, and assistants don’t go over the stars head to steal the show.”
“Just like you didn’t steal Yung Chen’s.”
“That was different; I made a mistake with the axes. I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.”
“Yes, you did. If it was an accident, then why would you do the same thing to Teris Maybourn, but instead of an ax, you changed the tiger she used in her act with another. Mauled her to death on stage before an audience.”
Boris’s mouth hung open.
“How do you know about that?”
“The same way I know about Malcolm Deakins and Cole Shark, your MO is predictable as it is repetitive.”
“You apprentice yourself to an unknown illusionist or magician that has a trick or two which could see them become a star.”
“You gain their trust, learn their secrets and when you're finished kill them. Beautiful. In fact, your crime today is the only one that doesn’t fit, but then it was a crime of passion, was it not?”
“Are you going to call the authorities?”
The man laughed.
“And where would the sport be in that. No, Mr. Stian, I’m not going to turn you in. Instead, I’m going to make you my tyro.”
Boris looked at him blankly.
“It’s an apprentice of sorts, only much, much more.”
“You want to apprentice me, even though you’re aware of my…track record with previous masters?”
“Oh, this will be different. Before, you were apprenticed to performers; who are notorious for wanting to be the focus of attention, so they keep their secrets. I, on the other hand, am not looking to be center stage.”
“What are you looking for then?”
He lost his smile.
“Revenge.”
This time, it was Boris’s turn to laugh.
“If it’s vengeance you want, why not buy a gun and settle it the old fashion way?”
“Because the man I wish to kill has perfected the illusion of immortality.”
Boris’s interest peaked.
“No one’s immortal,” he said flatly.
“That’s what I thought until I saw proof that dates back near two hundred years.”
“So, what did this immortal chap do that deserves your vengeance?”
“Like you, he stole his knowledge. Every trick in his repertoire, even his immortality was the creation of another.”
“However, unlike you, he doesn’t have the decency to end his victim’s lives. No, instead they have to watch as he gallivants about passing the magic and illusions off as his own. At least in death, one doesn’t have to bear that humiliation.”
“So you want to kill him to…or what, steal his immortality?”
“No. Nothing so crude. It is a simple case of atonement for past grievances. When it’s all done and finished, you can feel free to help yourself to his bag of tricks.”
“You expect me to believe that you know all about my past, and yet still willing to make me this tyro or apprentice of yours and in return, you’ll give me all his illusions and tricks, for free.”
“I wouldn’t say free, after all, you’ll be the one whose attention they’ll be focused upon.”
“I, on the other hand, will be little more than a fly on the wall. Watching things unfold. Then, when everything has run its course, I will be the one to take him down.”
“I think I’d like to be there for that,”
Boris thought it over.
He wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no such thing as immortality, but the promise of free illusions was too much to pass up.
“So where do we start?”
“Training. You’re well versed in illusions, a natural so to speak, but if we are to coax this man out from the shadows, then you’ll need to be more than a natural; you’ll have to be something the world has never seen before. Something extraordinary.”
Boris couldn’t help but get caught up in the atmosphere of the strangers words.
He was going to be someone, and with the arrival of that impossible thought came another, what if everythi