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way to the stage.
    “ Ah, if it isn’t our fair maiden, better known as Calamity Jane.” The magician held his hand out to Grace, who was just making it down the aisle.
    Heart beating fast, hands sweating and breath coming in short, Grace took the magician’s hand and allowed herself to be led to the center of the stage. Once there, Grace turned around and faced the crowd.
    Big mistake.
    There was a sudden loss of sound as the blood drained from her face. She locked her knees to keep herself from falling to the floor. She didn’t realize how many people were actually in the audience. Hundreds. She glanced at Belle, who was smiling at her and nodding her head encouragingly. She turned to Dragovich. A mocking smile lit up his all too handsome face. She suddenly realized he had been speaking to her. Sound came back in a rush.
    “ What?” she asked loudly, trying to regain some semblance of control.
    The audience laugh ed.
    His smile grew wider. “What is your name?” he asked slowly.
    Grace stood there for a few seconds staring into the dark abyss of the audience, not quite comprehending the question. “I don’t know.”
    “ You don’t know your name?”
    “ Calamity—” She stood in confusion, staring at the crowd as all those eyes stared back at her. She screwed her eyes shut. Better. Smiling, she said, “Grace Holliday.”
    She felt strong fingers turn her head to the side. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring up into the smiling eyes of Ilya Dragovich. “Why don’t you just concentrate on me? Don’t look at the crowd.”
    Grace breath ed a sigh of relief. It was much easier staring at him than at the crowd. She noticed a small scar on his temple and briefly wondered where that came from, before moving her gaze to his lips. Oh no, what is he saying now, she thought worriedly, as she tried to reconstruct his last words. Failing, she muttered “what” as the crowd broke into laughter again.
    “ I think it was better when you were looking at the crowd,” he said smiling.
    “ I don’t know,” she repeated, which judging by the noise the crowd was making was even funnier than when she said it the first time.
    The magician nodd ed his head sympathetically as he lightly massaged her arms. “Don’t worry, this won’t take long. I’m going to put you out of your misery, very soon.”
    “ Thank you,” she breathed out, relieved. That ridiculously happy grin that had been on her face earlier the night had returned, but by now, she was beyond caring, she just wanted to get away from all of those eyes.
    “ Now, I have a few questions to ask you. This is very important. Have you ever heard of Amelia Dale?”
    Grace want ed to say that she could barely remember her own name right now, so how could she be counted on remembering anyone else’s, but that would require forming an actual sentence which was simply beyond her abilities at the moment. She just shook her head instead.
    “ What I am about to do has been done before. On this very stage. On this very night in 1919, a young woman, by the name of Amelia Dale, climbed into this same chest, and tragically died.”
    Grace glanc ed at the crystal chest hovering to her right. To her eye, it looked more like a coffin than a chest. A small pit of dread began building in her stomach as she looked at the simple three by seven foot glass box. Except for a small hole in the center, most of the glass was covered with ice crystals. A fog surrounded the box. Just looking at it caused her body to shiver uncontrollably.
    “ Okay,” she said, nodding her head, hoping to move him along.
    “ This stage, this night, this very act is considered cursed. Other magicians are afraid to try this.”
    “ Okay,” Grace glanced over to the chest. The only thing preventing her from climbing into the chest and putting an end to her agony was the magician’s strong hands gripping her arms.
    “You must do exactly as I tell you. One mistake could mean the difference of