The Art of Disappearing by Ivy Pochoda (popular romance novels .txt) 📕

in a house full of crumbling men?”

“Because, Las Vegas spat me out. My magic is no longer welcome there or maybe anywhere.”

Leo nodded. “There is a gritty side to this city, too. Maybe it will inspire you. But be careful: Amsterdam is a magicians’ graveyard. Secrets come here to die.” He shook Toby’s shoulder. “But you are too young for that.”

Olivia popped a cigarette into her mouth. Toby cupped his palms. In an instant, the space between his hands began to glow. Olivia leaned forward. Toby clapped, and the light in his hands went out.

Olivia sat back and exhaled. “Some trick,” she said.

A woman in a long pink wig, a rhinestone bodice over denim shorts, and stockings held up by black garters peered into our alcove. “Found him,” she called over her shoulder.

Toby looked up.

“You’re the man who can play with fire,” she said.

The magician smiled. “Sometimes.”

She leaned in close. “Come,” she said, pulling Toby to his feet. “Unfair of you to hide in the corner.” Then she noticed Leo. “Sorry to steal him from the host.”

“Be my guest,” Leo said.

Toby hesitated. I put my hand on his back, urging him up.

“They all want to see,” the woman in the wig whispered.

Toby turned to Leo, who extended his hand. “You’ll come visit us sometime.”

“Of course,” the magician replied.

Toby stepped into the corridor, and the flames on all the torches turned from orange to blue.

Leo watched him go, the phoenix dancing at his back, then turned to me. “I haven’t forgotten that fabric sings to you.”

“Not at the moment,” I said. “The wine and the music are taking care of that.”

“We have many things to discuss. But now you two should be dancing.”

Olivia extinguished her cigarette.

“Olivia, make sure Mel comes to the villa.”

Olivia nodded.

Leo fingered the red ribbons that dangled from the bodice of my costume, holding their ends up to the lantern. “Since Erik disappeared, his fabrics seem lifeless. Perhaps you can bring them to life. If only for a moment.”

“I can try.”

“Now, dance. It’s the reason I throw these things.”

It was my turn to lead, drawing Olivia from the alcove and onto the dance floor. On our way, she grabbed two mugs of tea. It tasted of twigs and earth. Olivia finished hers in one gulp and followed me.

The pace of the music picked up. I lost Olivia and found myself between the two Christophs. Soon the dance floor began to glow. The Christophs stopped dancing. The crowd parted, and the fiery silhouettes of two dragons and a phoenix began to sway in time to the music. In the center of the three was Toby. He was dancing.

We slept until lunchtime the next day. When I got out of bed, leaving the magician to his dreamtime conjuring, my head felt swollen and my legs were uncertain. I crept down Piet’s perilous stairs, hoping for coffee and solitude, but found Theo sitting alone at the table.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Piet’s gone out,” Theo said.

“Would you like coffee?”

Theo nodded. “It is the jet lag?” the elegant magician wondered as I filled the pot with water.

“Something like that.”

“And Toby?”

“He’ll be down soon.”

“Good. This will give us time to talk.”

I brought the coffee to the table and poured it into cups.

“Tell me, how often do you think about your hands?” Theo asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Your hands.”

I looked down at my short fingers and my square palms. Square palms—the sign of an artist, someone told me once. “Sometimes,” I answered. “From time to time.”

“From time to time,” Theo mused, spooning sugar into his cup. “Your husband has the most extraordinary hands.”

I nodded.

“I hope he does not plan to suffocate their potential. There is so much he can do.”

I sipped my coffee.

“We can help him.”

“How?” I asked.

“There are tricks that will restore his faith in magic. When the time comes, I hope you will convince him to do them.”

I shook my head. “When it comes to magic, I can hardly convince Toby of anything.”

“That is because you haven’t tried.”

I refilled my cup.

“You volunteered for Toby’s trick in Las Vegas.”

I nodded.

“Why?”

I looked into Theo’s eyes. His irises swirled, holding my gaze until I answered. “I was worried something would go wrong.”

“And why was that?” The elder magician wouldn’t look away.

“The woman Toby made disappear warned me that it would.”

“But you didn’t tell him.”

I shook my head. “Toby’s magic wasn’t what went wrong at the Winter Palace.”

“Anytime a magician invites someone onto his stage, that person becomes part of the magic. Your husband should know that.” Theo blinked and released me from his stare. “Perhaps you should have said something.”

“Maybe.”

“Let us hope that the next time you have the opportunity to advise Toby, you will take it.”

“I can’t see when that will happen.”

“Soon. We have a trick that will make magic meaningful for Toby once more. He is a magician, like I was, and knows nothing else. When the time comes, convince him. Magic is his happiness. It is his calling. I’m sure there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.” Theo reached across the table and tapped the back of my hand with his hardened fingertips. “This is why you came to me.”

Something in Theo’s tone wouldn’t let me admit he was right, so I pushed my chair back and collided with Toby as he walked in.

“And why have we come?” Toby asked. He sounded cheerful, as if last night’s party had set something free in him.

Theo smiled. “So that I can show you what remains of our little golden age.” He winked. “And so that you can explore some of Amsterdam’s best secrets.”

“Secrets?” Toby said. “I cannot have secrets before coffee.”

The stately theaters that line the east side of the Amstel are hospitable to musicals, opera, and ballet—really, anything that comes their way. Theo led us down a small street between two of these theaters, where props and posters were stacked against stage doors and I could hear a show tune being rehearsed in one of the buildings. At the back of the alley was a limestone