THE MAGICIAN'S ASSISTANT
A short story of 2500 words
© David Lowe, January 1992
Three men in white coats stood around the judging table. One judge was short and round, another was tall and stooped. The third, a junior judge, was somewhere in between. All had curly beards and whiskered faces.
On the table sat a ball of white fluff. It blinked. Somewhere inside the fluff was a champion rabbit. Opposite the judges were people clutching cages as they sat in banks of temporary seating. Straw covered the ground. Beyond the showground pavilion cows mooed. The audience held their breaths and watched.
A final test.
Clearly aware of the gravity of the occasion, the younger judge stepped up to the table. The rabbit wiggled its nose. He placed one hand on each side of the rabbit and lifted it into the air. The audience tensed. Deliberately, the judge dropped the rabbit. It fell and landed. The rabbit blinked and wiggled its nose. 'He didn't move!' whispered one woman excitedly to her partner. Three seconds passed. Suddenly the audience exploded into life. People clapped and whistled. The judges smiled. The audience cheered and stood up in their seats. Another title had been won.
It was the 16th Annual National Rabbit Show.
As the prizes were announced, Nicole Smith sadly began to gather up her cages. No awards this year. Still, there was always the next.
Nicole's long untidy hair covered her eyes and ears. She wore a man's shirt, gym shoes and floppy paisley slacks. Nicole was seventeen. Passers-by wondered if she might be a boy. Inside the cages her rabbits hopped about happily, unaware they were failures.
Suddenly she noticed a tall figure blocking the hot sun streaming through the door. He stepped inside with measured paces, looking neither right nor left. The man wore a long oriental coat rather like a dressing gown. Tall Spanish boots stretched to his knees. He could have been 35 or 5O. Deep furrows in a gaunt, handsome face. Blue eyes blazed fiercely beneath strong black brows. The man stepped up to Nicole's stand. He was not sweating.
The man bowed low in front of her. Nicole giggled uncertainly. He stood up, reached out for her hand and kissed it gently.
'Nicole? May I introduce myself,' A European accent. 'I am the Great Zuppo.'
'Really? Um, how did you know my name?' The man pointed to her name tag with a smile.
'Oh,' said Nicole, embarrassed.
'I understand you specialise in...' Zuppo searched for the word. 'Rare breeding.'
'Sorry?'
'Rabbits. I am looking for a Spanish Otter.'
'Oh you mean my Flemish Blue Otters!'
'Yes. I think so.'
Back on familiar ground, Nicole happily reached into a box and lifted out a sleek white rabbit with brilliant blue eyes. The creature kicked and struggled in her hands. A claw cut her forearm. 'Ow!' said Nicole.
'Here. Let me try.' said the tall man.
Nicole handed over the squirming rabbit. The man stroked its ears. Instantly the creature was quiet, almost sleepy. Nicole looked on in amazement.
The man examined the rabbit from every angle. 'Wonderful.' he pronounced. 'Is she for sale?'
'Er...yeah,' gabbled the girl. 'I've got lots of them. Too many.' She giggled again.
Zuppo agreed on the price. He bought the cage as well. People were leaving the pavilion.
She noticed he was looking at her strangely, running his eyes from her ankles to her neck.
'Why are you doing that?' she asked nervously.
The man's eyes flicked back to her own. 'Tell me Nicole, what's your middle name?'
'What's that got to do with it?'
'Please. Tell me,' he implored.
'I don't have one.' Nicole's fear turned to irritation.
'That's where you are mistaken. Everybody has a middle name.'
'I don't.'
The man smiled gently. 'Your proportions are perfect.'
'Perfect for what?' Nicole turned and busied herself with her cages.
'Let me explain. I am a magician. I am in need of an assistant.'
His real name was Howard P. Zovascheski. It was painted on wooden packing cases full of props and equipment. The cases lined one wall of his large living and rehearsal space on the third floor of an old warehouse in the centre of town. It was two days after the rabbit show, and Nicole had accepted the magician's invitation to dinner.
She sat on a cushion by the window sipping strong coffee, looking down at the scurrying figures below as the lights of the city came on. She had told her parents she was at a friend's house.
From the kitchen came a smell of exotic foods sizzling. The magician sang in some obscure language as he cooked. Nicole looked around her.
The ceiling was high and the room enormous. Cushions were everywhere. Giant playing cards leaned against the wall. On the floor of a cage the blue-eyed rabbit hopped about happily, and doves cooed on perches above. Strange costumes hung from pegs. Hat boxes were neatly stacked nearby. Floor to ceiling louvred windows stretched the length of the room.
The dinner was delicious, though Nicole could not pronounce its name. They dined alone. The magician asked her about herself as they ate. 'So Nicky. You have brothers, sisters?'
'No. Just me.' The magician raised his eyebrows. 'I'm an only child.'
'That is sad. Families should be big, noisy.'
'My parents didn't think so,' said Nicole, sipping her wine. 'Anyway I've always had the rabbits for company.'
She stabbed a vegetable with her fork.
'Your job, do you like it?' he queried.
'At the supermarket? You must be joking.'
'And yet you will not work with me.'
'Me! Up on a stage being cut in half?! I don't think you know me very well Mr Zovascheski.'
'Oh but I do Nicky,' said the magician. 'I do.'
After dinner he showed her the costume. Nicole laughed out loud. Fishnet stockings, a tight red leotard, frilly ruffles, spangled sequins. A tiara. He packed the things back into the box and handed it to her seriously. Nicole tried to stop laughing.
'Try it on.' he said. 'When you get home.'
The taxi came. Once more the magician kissed her on the hand, before saying goodbye. Alone, he climbed back up the fire escape of the warehouse.
Later that night Nicole slipped out of her bed with the Mickey Mouse bedspread. Flowery wallpaper and little girl decorations covered the walls. In the moonlight she looked down at the box. She opened the lid.
A little later she stood before the mirror in the costume. It fitted her perfectly. A shiver went down her spine. Tying her hair back with a band, Nicole crept over to a little-used drawer and got out a lipstick and mascara.
She astonished herself. She felt like a completely different person.
Later, make-up removed and costume back in its box, Nicole lay in her bed. Her eyes shone with excitement. She couldn't sleep.
The next day Nicole had her hair trimmed after work before going back to the warehouse. Three floors up the rickety fire escape she climbed. At the top she knocked on the door.
Zovascheski appeared clutching two flaming knives. Instinctively Nicole stepped back from the flames. She tripped and felt herself falling. Suddenly a strong arm was around her waist, dragging her back from the brink. The magician blew out the alcohol-soaked knives and smiled.
Nicole gathered her wits. 'What on earth do you think you're doing?!' she yelled.
'Practising,' said the magician. 'It's been a long time.'
Later, over the usual strong coffee, he asked the question she had been waiting for.
'I'll do it,' said Nicole.
As she got into the costume behind a partition, Zovascheski explained that he hadn't done magic on stage for seven years. He'd had some kind of breakdown back then. Now he was ready to face the audiences again.
Nicole stepped out from behind the partition shyly. The magician looked at her in awe. 'Magnificent,' he whispered.
Every second night for three weeks they practised. Her parents began to get suspicious, but Nicole told them nothing. Confidence filled her like a drug. A new exhilaration swept through her life.
Before a mirror Zovascheski endlessly fine-tuned the tricks. Soon Nicole felt she could practically do some of them herself. Handkerchiefs and doves, rabbits and hats, fire and blades - Zovascheski did them all. Again and again and again.
Nicole learned to walk and smile; to enhance the magician's showmanship by helping with tricks, handling props and being sawn in half. She learned the secrets of hypnotism and breath control. She came to trust the magician completely.
At last he thought they were ready to perform, and lined up a booking. As usual Nicole crept out of her house and met the magician at the warehouse.
'Ready Nicky?' he asked. The girl smiled and nodded.
The venue was a Leagues Club. They were the support act for a rock band. Nervously, Nicole got into her costume backstage. In the dressing room there was a smell of beer and stale smoke. Zovascheski got ready next door.
Behind the curtain they waited. The magician wore a crimson cape and a spotless pirate shirt beneath a blue satin waistcoat. Immaculate pointed leather shoes shone beneath black silk trousers. His eyes glinted through make-up.
Zovascheski squeezed Nicole's hand for support. Butterflies quivered in her stomach. Over a humming PA system, the voice of an MC: 'Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Great Zuppo - magician extraordinaire!' The curtains drew back.
Nicole was blinded by the lights. 'Smile!' hissed the magician, drawing her forward as his cape billowed. Up the back somewhere drunks shouted at them. Feeling naked, Nicole tried to smile. Finally the accompanying music started. Zovascheski introduced her.
From somewhere out in the darkness, 'Show us your tits!' Nicole fumbled with the cloak as she drew it from the magician's shoulders. The handkerchief trick went the wrong way and the audience laughed.
From that point on the act went flawlessly. Zovascheski shone. As a team they melded perfectly. Nicole grimaced as the bayonets went into the box, screamed as the saw went through, beamed as Zovascheski freed her, his eyes twinkling.
Finally the music stopped. The drunks were silent. Uproarious applause. The crowd whistled and cheered as the curtains closed.
That night the club-owner paid them in cash. The magician gave her half. Nicole walked home smiling inside, the wad of money feeling fat in her jeans' back pocket.
Zovascheski rang her at work the next day. 'You were wonderful,' he said.
'You really think so?'
'Absolutely. Come over tonight. Let me cook a reward for you.'
Nicole arrived early. She tried to help with the cooking, but Zovascheski soon banished her from the kitchen.
Once again the food was amazing - tangy black sauce poured over tiny meatballs.
The magician spoke as they ate. 'My father, he named me after the American millionaire, Howard Hughes. He taught me that a name is a powerful thing.'
'So what does the P stand for?' asked Nicole.
'What do you mean?'
'In your name - your middle initial.'
The magician swallowed. 'You haven't told me yours yet.'
'I already explained,' the girl protested. 'I don't have a middle name.'
'That is what my previous assistant always said.'
'So?'
'Checkmate.' The magician said enigmatically.
They performed at expensive birthdays, festivals, RSL clubs, football clubs and night spots. Soon the Great Zuppo returned to headline act status. Nicole quit her day job. New tricks were added to the repertoire. Old tricks gained an experienced polish as the pair practised endlessly.
Apart from during the act, Zovascheski never touched her, except to kiss her hand when he said goodbye.
Everywhere they went the crowds packed in, hungry for magic and a distraction from their problems. Old and young alike watched open-mouthed. From the poor parts of town to exclusive venues the Zuppo poster drew the people.
One night Zovascheski sat Nicole down before they left the warehouse.
'Nicky. I want to ask you something.'
'Ask away.' She combed her hair.
'I would like to try a new trick tonight.'
He explained the procedure to the girl. She agreed, not understanding his seriousness.
The magician continued gravely. 'It is terribly important that you know what's involved. If you have any hesitation at all, tell me now. I promise you I will not ask you about it again.'
'I told you,' said Nicole, becoming annoyed. 'The answer is yes.'
As they rode to the club in the back of a limousine Nicole ate chocolates absent-mindedly and looked out the window. Zovascheski's mind whirled. Seven years since he had last performed his greatest trick. Seven years since his last assistant, Sonia had...
Zovascheski stopped himself. Not this time. Now he had the confidence he had lacked then. Nicole was perfect. It had to work. It had to.
The curtain opened. As usual, the routine went without a hitch. Even the bar was silent. On stage, sparks flew. Zovascheski commanded the audience's attention like a conductor with an orchestra.
The end of the show. Deafening applause.
Zovascheski bowed and took the microphone as Nicole stood behind and slightly to one side. Was that a familiar face in the second row? Her smile wavered for a moment. Of course not.
Zovascheski began as the applause died away. 'Thank you, thank you all ladies and gentlemen.'
He paused for effect.
'Tonight I, the Great Zuppo, present to you a brand new piece of magic. I am going to make my lovely assistant Nicole disappear.'
The floodlights faded out. A single spotlight on the stage. On the magician's brow, a drop of sweat formed.
Nicole stepped up. Zovascheski closed his eyes and placed his hand on her forehead. In the dim blue light she saw two figures standing up in the crowd. They scrambled across to the aisle. Oh no.
'Nicole!' screamed her mother, running towards the stage.
The girl began to disappear.
'Nicole!' shouted her father.
Zovascheski kept his eyes closed, deep concentration furrowing his brow as if in a trance. The girl's smile was gone now. Alarm contorted her translucent features. Towards the stage her parents ran. She was semi-transparent now. Nicole's eyes stared wide open in the glaring spotlight, like a creature caught before a car. The magician's cool hand gripped her like a magnet. Nicole's mother began to climb the stage.
The girl screamed once, and was gone.
As if from a great distance, Zovascheski came back and opened his eyes, expecting thunderous applause. The crowd stirred uneasily. Something was wrong.
'What have you done with her!?' screamed a woman in the footlights beneath his feet. 'What have you done with my baby?'
The woman clambered awkwardly on to the stage and stood up, her clothes crumpled.
Always one crank in every crowd, thought the magician. 'Please calm down Madam. Everything is under control. All I have to do to bring her back is...' He snapped his fingers. Again. Nothing happened. Oh God. Not again. Not again.
Summoning all his energy, the magician screwed up his eyes and snapped the fingers of both hands at once. Nothing. The middle-aged woman began pounding his chest with her fists, tears streaming down her face.
Zovascheski fell to his knees as the blows rained down.
The stage went black.© David Lowe, January 1992