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his
voice across the audience without ever approaching the microphone.
“I am Adrian Montez, world famous magician, and tonight it is my
pleasure to show you wonders that will dazzle your senses.”
    A Catalan translator standing on the far
right of the stage spoke hastily after Adrian finished.
    Gray momentarily forgot both Spanish and what
little Catalan she’d learned. It hummed merrily like a familiar
tune without the words. Only Adrian’s speech registered. Although
he addressed the audience, his words moved directly from his mouth
to her ears.
    He removed one of his gloves and tossed it
into the air where it turned into another dove that flew to the gas
lamp to join his friend. By the time the first act was finished,
Adrian had set no fewer than fifteen fires and produced six
doves.
    Gray was beginning to think she’d make it
through the performance when Adrian switched gears halfway through.
The lighting became brighter, the music and set more whimsical. The
audience laughed when Adrian swallowed a sword, pulled it out, and
moved his lips around as though removing a bad taste.
    “I think it’s time someone else went under
the blade, don’t you agree?”
    The audience hooted. At that point, they
probably would have cheered if Adrian suggested setting the
auditorium on fire. Two men wheeled a table with a casket-sized box
on top. Gray knew exactly what it was. Apparently a handsaw wasn’t
impressive enough for Adrian. The circular blade attached to the
far side of the table had a five foot wide girth and razor-sharp
teeth.
    Gray pitied Adrian’s unfortunate assistant
even if it was just an act, but no woman in sequined leotard
appeared.
    Adrian grinned across the stage. “Now I need
a volunteer from the audience. . .”
    Before the translator could open his mouth to
repeat Adrian’s words, Hannah was yelling, “Here! Over here!”
pointing frantically at Gray.
    Hannah missed the desperation behind her “No”
and before Gray had a chance to run for the nearest exit, the
spotlight blinded her. Gray didn’t realize she’d been crouching.
Her chair wasn’t going to swallow her up no matter how much she
wished it. Gray straightened and squinted into the light—a deer
caught in the headlights.
    “Wonderful! Come on up, young lady.”
    There wasn’t a hint of recognition in
Adrian’s voice. Maybe he couldn’t see into the audience. Stage
lights could be blinding.
    Gray grabbed Hannah’s arm quickly. “Go up for
me.”
    “No way!”
    “Hannah . . .”
    “I think someone is experiencing performance
anxiety,” Adrian said.
    Laughter.
    “Go on! Everyone’s waiting!” Hannah said.
She’d never spoken that harshly to Gray before.
    As Gray stood, she had to bite down on her
lower lip to keep it from trembling. Little did her friend know she
was sending Gray up to the executioner’s block.
    “Here she comes,” Adrian said as Gray slowly
made her way up the stairs on the side of the stage.
    Gray was shaken, not just to see him, but
that someone from her past stood not eight feet away in a country
so lively yet unbearably lonely at times—a personal connection to
her former life, albeit an unwelcome one.
    Adrian betrayed no signs of familiarity.
“What is your name?”
    Gray glared at Adrian. His expression
remained annoyingly neutral. From below, Hannah and Marco yelled,
“Gray!”
    Adrian smirked. He turned to his audience. “I
don’t know. She doesn’t look gray to me.”
    The audience laughed. Worst of all, she heard
Hannah giggling the loudest.
    “Now then, Miss Gray, if you will step this
way.”
    Gray wasn’t about to step anywhere near the
table with its giant saw. Adrian noticed her hesitation and said,
“Don’t be afraid, my dear. I’ve done this a thousand times . . .
and only lost one volunteer.”
    The audience laughed.
    Adrian reached his gloved hand out. Gray
looked from the white palm of his hand to his gleaming eyes and
took a step back.
    “It appears the young lady