The Magician's Secret (Nancy Drew Diaries #8)(4)

Bess glanced at her watch. “It’s still ten minutes to showtime. Maybe he likes to get things started early?”

Just then the hat levitated a few inches off the table, hovering in midair for about a minute before settling down again.

Screams and whistles, as well as scattered applause, could be heard from the audience, and the curtain closed once again.

“Whoa! Did you guys see that?” George exclaimed. “I wonder if the hat was connected by wires.”

“We sometimes like to give our audience a little preshow teaser.” A tall and very physically fit man appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He was about my dad’s age, had long, dark, curly hair, and was wearing sunglasses that were so dark I couldn’t see his eyes. He held out his hand. “I’m Drake Lonestar.”

“I’m Nancy,” I said, and quickly introduced Bess and George too.

“It’s no fair snooping around before the show,” he said with a chuckle. “This trick demands an audience that’s willing to believe in the illusion.”

“Oh—um, I—,” I stuttered. “We weren’t snooping. . . .”

Bess coughed.

“We’re just surveying the scene,” George said as she elbowed me in the ribs and chuckled.

I quickly changed the subject. “I’ve seen your magic on TV. Very impressive. Of course, I can’t help but wonder how you make things disappear.”

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough,” Drake Lonestar said. “Be patient. Are you willing to believe, even for a moment, that what I am about to do is real?”

“I . . .” I stalled. If I had to admit the truth, then the answer was no. I liked understanding what really happened behind the curtain. Was I willing to let go of the detective in me, just for an hour?

“I’ll try to sit back and enjoy the show,” I finally answered.

“That’s all I can ask,” Lonestar said. And with a wave of his hand, he produced three roses out of thin air. He gave one to Bess, one to George, and one to me.

“Hugo will take you back to your seats.”

Hugo turned out to be the beefy guard who’d winked at me earlier. He surprised me when he put a hand on my back. I jumped, and Lonestar laughed.

“Hugo LaBlanca has been on my staff for twenty years. If I disappeared right now, I’d trust him to take over the show.” Lonestar snapped his fingers, and I half expected him to actually disappear, but he didn’t.

For his part, while Lonestar was joking around, Hugo showed no response. He touched my elbow, which made me jump again, and a moment later escorted us away, with no room for any further snooping . . . or surveying.

We hadn’t gotten far when Drake Lonestar called out to me, “Nancy Drew.”

I turned.

Wait a minute. Drake Lonestar had just called me by my last name, but I was positive I hadn’t told him anything other than “Nancy” when we’d first met.

“Don’t forget.” He took off his sunglasses and stared at me with the greenest cat eyes I had ever seen. “Magic is a mystery that doesn’t need solving.”

His words echoed in my ears as Hugo led us back into the audience.





CHAPTER THREE





Onstage


I SAT DOWN IN SEAT B and twisted the rose stem. The blossom was closed, the petals waiting to open and reveal the fragrance inside.

“Did you hear what he said?” I asked my friends. “Mystery? Somehow he knows who I am.”

George rolled her eyes and muttered, “I wouldn’t take anything that guy says seriously, Nancy. He was so arrogant. Instead let’s try to figure out how the trick is done.”

“I liked him,” Bess cut in. She ran the rose across her cheek. “He’s charming.”

“Blech.” George rolled her eyes. “You’d think any guy who gave you flowers was charming.”

“Maybe,” Bess admitted. “But tell me, George—how did he know there were three of us? He would have needed to have the roses with him when he first approached.”

“He saw us outside the curtain,” George said, shrugging. “Not so tricky.”

Bess was clearly willing to let the magic slide over and impress her. George, not so much.

On this I was more like George, but I’d promised Lonestar I’d try to be more like Bess. Letting my mind go blank was harder than I had ever imagined, and I had to chase away any thoughts that the rose was in his sleeve or that he’d had an accomplice or that he’d distracted us with Hugo. I was fighting against my own busy brain.

I was grateful when the show’s music started again and the curtains parted.

With a puff of smoke and a flash of lights, Drake Lonestar appeared, seemingly from nowhere, up on the stage.

He waved a hand and a screen appeared behind him. On the screen was a short video. I couldn’t help myself. I flipped my head around to look for a projector. I didn’t see one, but that didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t privy to the latest, most advanced technology; that was George’s domain.

Poof.

A flash of smoke and Lonestar levitated above the stage, floating high over the screen.

“Wires,” George whispered to me, though I didn’t see any. He hovered while the screen lit up with his name and logo.