Saira - TI5 Read online

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  Saira

  Book V

  The Illusionist Series

  By

  Fran Heckrotte

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  Copyright © 2008 by Fran Heckrotte

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-934889-25-1

  First Edition

  Mobipocket e-Book Format

  November 2008

  This electronic book is ePublished by

  L-Book ePublisher, LLC

  La Quinta, Ca. USA

  Email: info@ L-Book.com

  Web Site: http://L-Book.com

  Editor: Alexa Hoffman

  Cover Design by Sheri Halal

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  This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for their personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper print out or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my beta readers who have helped me with the stories of Saira and Warrior Demoness. They have traveled with me on my journey in creating the Illusionist series and were instrumental in getting me to my destination. Thank you Alex D’Brassis, Lee McLean, and Kimberly, my betas…and Mary K. Bosshart, my alpha reader.

  To Pam, your help is invaluable in both beta reading and proofing my stories. Thanks so much for all your hard work.

  Sheri Dragon, my cover artist. Everyone who sees your creations is amazed at your ability to capture the essence of each story. The covers are phenomenal

  Roxanne Jones…As always, I'm amazed at your computer wizardry. You continue to offer the world the opportunity to enjoy products they normally couldn't access through conventional methods. Keep up the great work.

  To A.L…thanks for encouraging me to write.

  And yes, to Howie, who is still wondering why I mention him.

  Saira

  CHAPTER 1

  SHE WAS SAIRA, a nomad trapped in a world where space was restricted only by the limits of her imagination, and time was nothing more than a highway between the then and the now. She lived in the present only because it suited her, with no idea of her true age. Time was too irrelevant, and she was too old for it to have meaning. She had always existed, long before the light, long before the creation of the planets, long before the birth of the universe.

  In the beginning, there was only consciousness with no spectral body. At least, that's how she remembered it, although without light it was hard to know for sure. Eventually she grew aware of other beings and sought them out, only to become frustrated by her failure to discover their pasts or their locations. It was as if they, too, had always existed; they being the First Born, a name Saira had given them. She soon realized the futility of looking for pasts too difficult to untangle, and so she set aside her desire to discover more about them and concentrated on more attainable goals. Worlds were evolving, and with them, life.

  In time, populations grew enormous, making it impossible to track every inhabitant. Each eon grew more interesting and more complex. Eventually, she lost the desire to choose which life to trace, simply following the nearly irresistible tugs, especially those that were the strongest. When a tug came, she would journey into the past, searching for answers to the questions that plagued her.

  Saira was infinitely curious. Perhaps that was why she always made her home in the now. It provided her with opportunities to search for what had once been and the now, seeking answers that might give some hint of the future.

  To her, the past was a story already written, and thus it only needed to be reread. The future was an empty slate waiting for its authors to scribble their messages. It rarely revealed its secrets, making her existence both an adventure and a challenge. New people brought new experiences. Those who were special provided the greatest opportunities to journey backward or forward across time to discover why some events had escalated beyond reason and others had stagnated beyond logic. Ancestors were as intriguing as their descendants, since they also had stories to tell. Each provided an unlimited source of mysteries for Saira.

  Today someone new was pulling at her, a human more unique than any mortal she had ever met. The encounter would teach Saira a valuable lesson. Curiosity could be more than just an interesting pastime. Recklessly pursued, it could destroy worlds.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE ILLUSION WAS almost complete. Yemaya and her crew had managed to perform the ghost stunt flawlessly on the three previous nights. No one anticipated any problems this evening, since it was their last show, but the participants were still vigilant for any glitches.

  The stage was a reproduction of an old cemetery with headstones and graves placed around the area. A large sarcophagus with elaborate symbols carved on each side lay in the center. At each corner of the funerary box stood a torch, its flames flickering eerily in the subdued light. Several graves were equipped with hinged doors at the top and bottom, allowing the occupants to rise from the "earth" (or disappear into it) as the act required. The sarcophagus was open on top, but its walls were solid concrete.

  The Illusionist's method of escape was a mystery even to her crew. They had been working with her for several years, and most of them had given up trying to discover her secrets. Yemaya would give them the specifics of what she wanted and how to lay out the setups. The participants practiced until they performed the choreography perfectly. Once satisfied they could do it without any mistakes, the Illusionist executed her role in the scenario, completing the final effects. No matter how long they had worked for her, each escape left them momentarily stunned and with more questions than answers.

  Compared to past performances, this particular stunt was fairly simple. Yemaya portrayed a frightened young woman walking nervously through a cemetery on All Hallow's Eve. Artificial fog swirled about the stage and around the headstones, its gray tentacles touching each object like fingers gently caressing a lover's face.

  Several corpses milled aimlessly while others stalked the late-night intruder. Disturbed by the presence of a live human, they closed in for the capture when she walked hesitantly around a headstone. Paralyzed by fear, their victim was unable to scream or resist. Afterward, they carried her prone body above their heads around the stage, displaying their prize to other corpses emerging from the graves. Haunting music and a strange seductive dance followed as the victim's hands and feet were tied with nylon ropes.

  Before the corpses placed her in the sarcophagus, several members of the audience were summoned onto the stage to examine the flooring and concrete coffin. Once they confirmed the absence of secret panels, they returned to their seats and the ritual began. Yemaya was placed in the coffin, and the lid was lowered from the ceiling by a small crane. The scale attached to the crane between the lid and hook indicated the piece of concrete weighed almost three hundred pounds. Once sealed, a large clock ticked off the seconds a person could survive inside the tomb before suffocating. If the occupant didn't panic, five minutes was the maximum limit.

  After three minutes, the audience grew restless. Several people fidgeted, looking nervously from the timer to the coffin and then back to the timer. Some called for the crane operator to lift t
he lid and free the Illusionist. Others whispered to their neighbors, sure something had gone horribly wrong. Had the Illusionist's luck finally run out? Perhaps she had misjudged her abilities. Surely the frantic behavior of the people on stage was indicative of a problem.

  At five minutes, most of the audience began yelling at the crew to get Yemaya out of the coffin. Finally, a ghostly apparition with long white hair, pale skin, and red eyes appeared from offstage and whispered to two of the cast members. One motioned for the crane's hook to be lowered. Quickly attaching it to the chains buried in the slab, they slowly raised the lid, swung it to the side of the sarcophagus, and lowered it to the floor.

  The apparition reached into the coffin and ran her hands along the inside as if searching for the occupant. Looking up, she gave a confused shrug. She pulled out a black gown and showed it to the audience. The two spectators who had previously inspected the coffin were brought back on stage to re-examine it. It was empty. The Illusionist was gone. They mumbled to each other and then raised their hands, palms up, indicating to the audience that they didn't know what to think.

  Several observers gasped and looked around, as though wondering whether their companions were as stumped as they. When someone yelled out, wanting answers, the ghostly apparition stepped to the edge of the stage and raised her arms, motioning for the crowd to quiet down. Eventually the noise subsided into an uneasy silence.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please sit quietly while we figure out what has gone wrong here," she said. "Let's hope we can get to the bottom of this quickly."

  She walked back to the other costumed figures who obviously were having a serious discussion. A few nods later, the apparition returned to the edge of the stage.

  "I think we know what happened. Apparently the Illusionist has managed to escape from the sarcophagus. The only thing left is to figure out where she is. Can anyone tell us if they saw anything unusual?"

  "Yeah, the whole damn show!" a man yelled from one of the back rows.

  "We didn't see anything," a woman said near the front.

  Others nodded their heads in agreement.

  "I was afraid of that," the apparition replied, almost soulfully. "Since no one out there can help us, I guess there's nothing left to do but solve this myself."

  Reaching above her head, the ghostly figure pulled off the white wig, exposing long, raven black hair. She then peeled a thin layer of pasty white latex from her face and removed the red eye contacts. The audience gasped; before them stood the Illusionist.

  "Where'd you come from?" one of the men who had previously inspected the coffin asked.

  Yemaya walked over to him and whispered in his ear. A bright red flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. Laughing softly, she leaned down and planted a light kiss on his left cheek, ruffled his hair, and patted his back. Grinning sheepishly, he scurried back to his seat and quickly sat down, unable to make eye contact with her or his immediate neighbors.

  "What did you say to him?" another voice yelled.

  "I merely answered his question," Yemaya replied, giving the audience a wink. "I guess he wasn't expecting it to be quite so explicit."

  The audience laughed as vivid imaginations pictured what she must have told him. After several moments, Yemaya held up her hand and signaled for everyone to settle down.

  "Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight you have experienced an illusion, nothing more. You may think it was something more, but I can assure you, there's always a logical explanation behind everything I do. My job is to create and perform these illusions for your entertainment, and your job is to figure out how it was done.

  "As always, I recommend that no one try any of these stunts and particularly this one. It's extremely dangerous and can result in a serious injury or even death if anything were to go wrong. My crew is made up of professionals who have worked together for many years. If it weren't for them, I would have been permanently retired a long time ago — and I do mean permanently."

  The audience laughed when she made a face while emphasizing the word "permanently" with the symbolic gesture of slicing her throat.

  "Once again, I thank you for taking the time to attend tonight's show. It's always an honor and a pleasure to bring you a little relief from the stresses of everyday life. All I ask in return is that you be safe on your way home and kind to the living. The dead will take care of themselves."

  Waving good-bye and walking off the stage, the Illusionist stopped next to the curtain and smiled at a young, blonde woman who was frantically writing in a small notepad. Yemaya knelt down and remained in that position for several seconds. Apparently curious, the audience sat quietly, waiting to see what followed.

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  At last, Dakota thought, unaware of the silence around her. A pen that works. You're a keeper.

  As though she had jinxed it by the thought, the pen skipped. She shook it and tried again, whereupon it stopped writing completely. Shaking it more vigorously, Dakota muttered a few swear words, stuck the tip in her mouth, and sucked hard.

  Slowly, an eerie silence nudged aside the frustration. Aware that something wasn't quite right, Dakota looked up, her lips puckered and cheeks drawn inward. She discovered everyone staring curiously at her.

  Blushing, she quickly glanced toward the stage. Pale blue eyes stared unblinkingly at her. The glint of humor and slight smirk on Yemaya's face made her even more aware of the pen stuck in her mouth and how comical she must look.

  "Sheeyit." She yanked the pen away from her lips and stuffed it in her small handbag. Several chuckles near her made it obvious she had been overheard. Glaring at the offenders instantly silenced them. Turning toward Yemaya, she grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

  This is getting annoying, she thought resignedly.

  Laughing, Yemaya stood up and strolled backstage without speaking. Her expression, though, said everything.

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  "You had to do it." Dakota reached into her bag for the offending pen. "You just had to stop like all the others. What is this? A conspiracy?" Disgusted, she tossed it back into her handbag and headed toward the backstage entrance. Several crew members stopped her to say hi and share their latest gossip. After patiently listening to each one, Dakota walked to Yemaya's dressing room and lightly tapped on the door.

  "Come in," a husky voice said. Dakota could feel a faint shiver travel down her spine, an automatic response to that sensual, low pitch.

  "Damn," she muttered, rubbing her arms absentmindedly.

  She opened the door and peeked inside. Yemaya sat on a long couch, her legs propped across its arm and dangling. Although she looked relaxed, Dakota could tell something was bothering her.

  "What's up?" she asked, moving quickly to kneel next to her lover and give her a quick kiss on the lips.

  Yemaya frowned, unsure if even she knew. The show had gone as planned. Well, almost. After the lid had been lowered onto the concrete coffin, she remembered nothing. With the darkness of being entombed came the blackness of unconsciousness. Minutes later, she found herself in her apparition costume, walking onstage as if nothing had happened. The escape was a mystery. Not wanting to upset Dakota, she smiled and reached up to ruffle her blonde hair.

  "Nothing. I'm just a little tired. This show was more exhausting than normal for some reason."

  "I can imagine. One of these days I'm going to figure out how you disappear and reappear like you do. I think there's more to your illusions than illusions."

  "I've never denied it, but no one's going to believe me when I say I'm an alien from another planet. Besides, sometimes I even surprise myself."

  "Yeah. Right. And I'm Princess Leia."

  "Princess Leia?"

  "You know... Star Wars."

  "I never saw the movie, but I know who you mean. Carrie Fisher."

  "Carrie? Geez. You sure know how to take the mystique out of things. Where's your sense of wonder?"

  Raising one eyebrow, Yemaya gave Dakota "the look."

  "Cut i
t out," Dakota said. "Save that for your groupies."

  Yemaya stood up and gave Dakota a warm hug.

  "Busted. How about we get out of here? The crew will clean up. I think I could use a good night's sleep."

  Dakota wrapped her arm around Yemaya's waist, sensing something was bothering her but not wanting to press for an answer.

  CHAPTER 3

  SAIRA NEVER KNEW exactly what attracted her to the essence of another. First came the tug from some unknown source, and then she felt herself drawn toward someone with unique traits. Whether they were near, halfway around the world, or worlds apart made no difference. If the calling was strong, it was compelling.