Heart of Vengeance (Alice Worth #6) - Lisa Edmonds Page 0,181

lay beneath.

She was so steady, so unmoved. So unexpected.

“Many extremely intelligent people have said to me that they believe they cannot be hypnotized.” He spoke to the audience, to the hazel-eyed woman slumped behind him. “There is a common misconception that only the weak-minded can be put under, but I assure you, the opposite is true.” He turned so that he could see her reaction, if there was to be one.

“I have hypnotized doctors, lawyers, physicists, all at the top of their fields. It’s the weak-minded who can’t achieve this state of consciousness, not the reverse.”

He imagined she raised an eyebrow at this, knowing his words were spoken for her benefit. One thing was certain: she was no feeble-minded townie. And even if she had been, it shouldn’t have mattered. He played at being a mentalist; it’s what everyone assumed he was. His act was a good one, but it was his show and he knew what lay behind the scene. Elis was no humbug on the other side of the green curtain. His abilities were fool-proof—that’s what he had believed until today.

Elis led his subjects into a deep sleep. The hazel-eyed woman slumped to the side, resting her face on the back of her neighbor’s chair, her breathing relaxed and even.

One by one, he tapped the sleeping volunteers’ shoulders, giving them make-believe scenarios to play out for the amusement of the audience. At Elis’ suggestion, a young boy believed himself to be a carrot about to be eaten by a rabbit. The college student transformed into a dental hygienist who cleaned people’s teeth by singing Broadway show tunes.

The audience roared. Elis was a star, a marvel, a wonder.

He tapped the woman’s shoulder last.

“You are at a fancy ball. When I ask you to dance, you’re thrilled, but when you move to the dance floor, you realize you’ve forgotten how.”

He tapped her shoulder again, a light and uncertain pat. There was no explanation for how this woman had avoided being mesmerized. Was she doing this to make him look the fool?

She raised her head, her eye blinking open. He offered his arm to her. “May I have this dance?”

The audience sat with rapt attention as she rose to her feet, a congenial smile on her face. She moved aside an imaginary princess skirt from her imaginary gown so that she could step forward. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They took a few steps to the front of the stage. He calculated his reactions to his own movements, his hand placed on her lower back, the other clasped in her own. As he tamped down the thrill of it, he tried not to wonder what she tasted like, immediately finding he couldn’t help himself.

Cinnamon…it would be cinnamon.

He stepped forward to begin the dance. She shuffled awkwardly to the side. The audience’s laughter grew as she stumbled with every move until, while attempting to get her feet out of the clumsy position she’d found them in, she stumbled and collapsed against him. He caught her and for a moment, his lips were near enough to whisper something to her. If anyone caught him doing so, they’d assume it was part of the act.

The woman’s hands crossed in front of her, pressing against his chest as though she was using him to regain her balance. She paused there, her hand to his heart—his unnaturally slow beating heart. She took a step back from him and he snapped his fingers.

“You may sit down now.” He turned away from her, hoping he came across as aloof and unphased. “Wasn’t she amazing, ladies and gentlemen?”

The audience broke into applause. She was amazing. They had no idea how much so. Elis twitched behind his calm façade as he swept his hand in the direction of the volunteers, giving them their due. They were awake but still mesmerized, still without memory of the events that had unfolded over the course of the show. He walked behind them, again tapping each on the shoulder, this time releasing them from his hold and giving them back the past hour of their lives. They laughed behind their hands and shook their heads in disbelief, all skepticism vanished. Eleven charmed people returned to their seats. The twelfth stepped away seemingly unchanged, the steadiness of her gate a stark contrast to the clumsiness she’d allowed people to see during their dance.

“You are an impossibility,” he’d whispered to her. Now as he watched her sway towards the back of the benches lined up to face