Zigzag Effect Read online

He turned, and instantly crossed the stage to Sage’s side. ‘What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a …’ He shook his head. ‘You look upset.’

  Sage held the letter out. Her hand trembled.

  ‘What is it?’ Herb took the letter – and recoiled in disgust.

  Painted Jezebel.

  I want to tie you up and saw you in half.

  Make you vanish.

  12. Simulation: to give the impression that something has happened when it has not.

  ‘Jesus.’ Herb handed Sage a steaming cup of tea. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just a bit shocked.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant for you.’ Bianca was standing in the doorway to their office, leaning on the frame to keep the weight off her ankle. She held a sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘It was for me. It’s not the first time.’

  She handed the papers to Herb, who leafed through them. They were letters, all with the same wonky typewriter text on the same thin paper.

  ‘People suck,’ Bianca said, her face twisting. ‘You’d think I’d get used to it.’

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ asked Herb.

  Bianca shrugged. ‘This guy? A few months. But there have been others over the years. Lots of cheesy pickup lines and come-ons. If I step on Armand’s head during the glass-walking routine, I get foot fetishists. There was one guy who wanted to know if he could get a replica of my costume in his size. I don’t mind those ones as much as the people who write in about the bondage stuff – when I get tied up or sawn in half. They …’ She shook her head. ‘I told you we were cursed.’

  ‘This isn’t a curse,’ said Herb, raising his voice and hitting the pile of papers with the back of his hand. ‘It’s a threat. Why didn’t you say anything before?’

  ‘It’s nothing new,’ said Bianca. ‘Nothing unusual. Just part of the job, I guess.’

  Sage shivered. Some job.

  ‘We have to call the police,’ said Herb.

  Bianca let out a hollow laugh. ‘Do you think I haven’t tried that already? I used to take every single creepy letter down to the police station. They would listen sympathetically, and then tell me there was nothing they could do.’

  Sage stared at the letters, trying to understand why someone would do such a thing. ‘We have to figure out who’s sending them,’ she said. ‘There has to be a clue or at least something we can take to the police as evidence. Do you still have the envelopes? Maybe someone could analyse the handwriting.’

  Bianca sighed. ‘Feel free,’ she said. ‘I’ve never had any luck.’ She turned and hobbled slowly back to her dressing-room.

  Herb watched her go, his forehead creased in a frown. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Sage. ‘This was supposed to be a fun, happy night, celebrating the utter failure of my performance debut. Do you still want to go to dinner? Or if you like I can take you home.’

  Sage managed a weak smile. ‘Dinner, please,’ she said. The cheerful brightness of Mr Pham’s would lift her spirits. ‘I’m starving.’

  Herb gave her a squeeze. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘How about I head over there now while you wash your face and get changed? I’ll make sure there are mountains of spring rolls awaiting your triumphant entrance.’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Sage walked into the Vietnamese restaurant, breathing in the smell of fried garlic and mushrooms with relief. She looked around for Herb … but he wasn’t there. There was a couple sharing a steaming bowl of pho in the corner, and a man in a suit reading a newspaper and sipping hot tea. But no Herb.

  ‘Miss Sage!’ Mr Pham came bustling out of the kitchen. ‘Are you alone? Where is Mister Herb?’

  ‘I was hoping you could tell me,’ said Sage.

  Mr Pham looked confused. ‘He hasn’t been in since last Friday, with you. Is everything okay?’

  Sage smiled. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just a misunderstanding.’

  She left the restaurant and headed back to the theatre. Maybe she had misheard Herb. Maybe he’d got held up with something. Sage hunched over against the cold, which soaked right through her, making her fingers and ears ache. Each breath she drew in filled her lungs with what felt like tiny ice crystals, scratching and scraping against her throat. She breathed out great billowing white clouds.

  What if something had happened to Herb?

  She cupped her hands over her face and breathed out slowly, hoping the warmth of her breath would thaw her frozen nose. It didn’t work.

  He’d be fine. It was just a misunderstanding. He’d be back at the theatre.

  He wasn’t.

  As Sage slipped into the auditorium, Bianca was making her way gingerly up the aisle, with her red duffel coat and bag, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck.

  ‘What are you still doing here?’ asked Bianca. ‘I thought you went home ages ago.’

  ‘I was supposed to meet Herb at Mr Pham’s,’ Sage told her. ‘But he wasn’t there. Is he still here?’

  Bianca shook her head. ‘Herb went home about twenty minutes ago,’ she said. ‘He said you guys weren’t going to dinner anymore because he was too angry about the letters.’

  Sage stared at her. ‘He went home?’

  ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘No.’ Sage’s mood plummeted. Herb had cancelled their dinner, and forgotten to tell her. He had stood her up. Her cheeks grew hot and tears pricked her eyes. She gritted her teeth together. She wasn’t going to cry over a boy in front of Bianca.

  ‘What a tool,’ said Bianca. ‘I mean, I know we’re all on edge because of everything that’s been going on, but there’s just no excuse to act like a jerk.’

  ‘I guess he was upset,’ said Sage.

  ‘Don’t make excuses for him!’ Bianca jabbed a finger at Sage. ‘He is a weasel and a toad.’

  Sage swallowed. Herb was a weasel and a toad. There was a ghost haunting the theatre, and a crazed stalker sending creepy fan mail, and he’d let her walk the streets at night on her own. And stood her up. What kind of a boyfriend did that?

  She sighed. One who wasn’t a boyfriend. Herb was sweet and funny and an excellent kisser, but maybe he just wasn’t boyfriend material. He was so focused on his magic career, Sage wasn’t convinced there was room in his life for anything else.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, her voice sounding surer than she felt. ‘Herb is useless. I mean, all he does is show off and get all sarcastic whenever anyone mentions something he doesn’t understand.’

  Bianca nodded. ‘That’s my girl. Now, what are we going to do tonight?’

  Sage looked at her.

  ‘I’m not letting you go home all broken-hearted and dejected,’ said Bianca. ‘We have to do something.’

  ‘What?’

  Bianca cocked her head to one side. ‘Let’s stay here. Overnight. Maybe we’ll see the ghost.’

  Sage felt uneasy. ‘Stay here? All night?’

  ‘I sleep here all the time. It’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.’

  Sage opened her mouth to protest that staking out a haunted theatre overnight wasn’t exactly her idea of fun, but Bianca was already limping past her to the door, her face alight.

  ‘I’m going to Mr Pham’s to grab some provisions,’ she said. ‘You wait here.’

  Sage stared at her. ‘Now?’ she asked. ‘Tonight? What about your ankle?’

  ‘My ankle’s fine. I’ve got blankets and pillows in my dressing-room. Why not tonight?’

  Sage could think of about a million reasons, but she chose the one she thought would work best. ‘What about the curse?’

  Bianca tossed her head. ‘You and Herb stayed here overnight,’ she said. ‘In the storeroom. And nothing bad happened to you. Except for being locked up in a storeroom with Herb. I suppose that’s pretty bad.’

  Sage thought about the bucket of urine, and of Herb’s soft, slow kisses. ‘It depends on your perspective,’ she said, and her heart broke all over again when she remembere
d how he’d stood her up.

  ‘Gross,’ said Bianca with a laugh. ‘Now come on. Will you do it? Stay here with me tonight?’

  ‘I’m just not sure—’

  ‘You don’t have to.’ Bianca stood up again. ‘I’d like you to. But you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.’

  Sage imagined the theatre, all dark and closed down. It was the perfect time to hunt for ghosts. She could set up a time-lapse exposure on the stage, and see if she could capture a glimpse of some long-dead theatrical spirit.

  ‘Okay,’ she said with a firm nod. ‘I’ll text my parents and tell them I’m staying at your house.’

  ‘Great! I’ll be ten minutes.’

  She hobbled through the auditorium door. Sage heard a scuffling noise from the stage and started. Warren’s pink nose emerged from behind the red curtain, twitching and sniffing. He loped out and sat centre stage. Sage dug in her bag for her old film camera, and snapped a photo.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘It’s just you and me, Warren.’

  The rabbit looked away, uninterested.

  The theatre seemed … different at night. The cheap paint and lumpy chairs seemed less shabby and more romantically dilapidated. Draughts brushed through the auditorium, like the theatre was sighing to itself.

  Sage set her digital camera up on a tripod in the auditorium, hidden among the chairs, pointing at the stage. She adjusted the exposure to two seconds, taking the low light into account, and set the timer to open the shutter every two minutes. That should be enough to catch any ghostly presence. Then she pulled out her new film camera and snapped a few atmospheric photos.

  Click.

  A wide shot of the empty auditorium.

  Click.

  Peering into the wings at the side of the stage.

  Click.

  Herb’s props arranged neatly on the black velvet-topped card table.

  Click.

  A broom resting against the brick wall behind the stage.

  Click.

  Warren loped into view, dragging a red silk scarf behind him.

  Click.

  Sage followed him down the hall, snapping photos all the way.

  Click.

  Sage felt her heart leap into her throat as she heard the auditorium door bang open.

  ‘Sage?’ Bianca’s voice drifted down the corridor.

  Sage took a deep breath. ‘I’m here.’ She was going to have to calm down, if she didn’t want to experience a heart attack.

  ‘Mr Pham loaded me up,’ Bianca called. ‘I’ve got noodles and spring rolls and that really amazing caramelised fish thing he makes.’

  Sage’s stomach growled its approval, and she turned and made her way back up the corridor, Warren softly padding along beside her. Bianca had already transformed her dressing-room into something resembling a nine-year-old’s sleepover. A blanket covered the couch in the corner, and more blankets and pillows were spread out on the carpeted floor. Bianca was sitting on a cushion, her bad leg stretched out at an angle that Sage wouldn’t even dream of attempting, removing lids from plastic takeaway containers.

  ‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘This is going to be fun!’

  Sage sat down and spooned noodles into one of the bowls Bianca had brought. The smell of Vietnamese food sent her insides spinning, reminding her of her first dinner with Herb, where he had been funny and interesting, as well as the crushing moment of humiliation when she’d realised he’d stood her up. She took a savage bite of a spring roll. She wasn’t going to let Herb ruin Mr Pham’s culinary genius. She just needed to take her mind off him.

  ‘So how did you find out about the guy who died here?’ she asked Bianca.

  ‘Renaldo the Remarkable?’ said Bianca, her chopsticks hovering delicately over her bowl. ‘I know some people in the industry – I kind of grew up around the theatre. I asked if anything strange had ever happened before in this theatre, and this guy I know – Bill – told me about Renaldo. Then I went to the library and looked it up on the microfilm and found a few newspaper clippings.’

  Sage fed Warren a morsel of lettuce. ‘How did he die?’

  Bianca closed her eyes. ‘It was horrible,’ she said. ‘They were doing this trick where he was locked inside a wooden chest, and a blacksmith’s anvil was placed on top – so he wouldn’t be able to escape. Then he was supposed to escape, and appear somewhere else. But the wooden chest became weakened during rehearsal, and it broke under the weight of the anvil – crushing Renaldo to death in front of everyone.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ said Sage.

  Bianca nodded. ‘There have been plenty of sightings of him since then. Apparently he’s sometimes seen sitting in the front row, the fifth seat along from the aisle. People have reported the feeling of cold fingers on the backs of their necks, and hearing strange sounds and smelling weird things. Some people think his wife is here too.’

  ‘His wife?’

  ‘And assistant. It’s really the most tragic part of the whole story. They fell in love while touring the world together. When he died, all the other magicians wanted to hire her, but she said she’d never work again. Can you imagine, watching your husband die in front of hundreds of people?’

  Sage closed her eyes for a moment, and heard the clamour of applause fading into screams. She rubbed her hands together – her fingers were freezing.

  ‘She disappeared after Renaldo died,’ said Bianca. ‘Most people thought she just moved to another city, away from the public eye. But some people say she came back to this theatre and locked herself in the basement, and killed herself.’

  Sage shivered.

  ‘I’m going to pop these in the bin,’ said Bianca suddenly, stacking up the empty plastic food containers. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  The cold spread through Sage, rising from the tips of her fingers through her hands, her wrists, her arms, and creeping slowly down her chest into her heart. Her toes went numb and she wiggled them, hoping that friction might generate warmth. It didn’t.

  What if Bianca didn’t come back? Sage had seen enough horror movies to know how things worked. Whoever said I’ll be right back was almost certainly doomed to die. On the other hand, it was the beautiful blonde girl who always foiled the killer and survived. The dumpy sidekick was just one more corpse.

  Sage heard footsteps sound in the corridor, and held her breath. She picked up Warren and held him close, feeling his soft fur against her cheek. She could hear his little heart beating. He struggled halfheartedly.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Warren,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just Bianca coming back. Nothing to be frightened of.’

  It was Bianca, holding two steaming mugs.

  ‘See?’ murmured Sage to Warren, putting him back on the floor.

  ‘Here,’ said Bianca, handing her a mug. ‘Coffee. It’ll help us stay awake.’

  Sage didn’t think she’d have any trouble staying awake. Who could fall asleep when they were in a creepy, empty theatre, in the middle of the night, with either a vengeful ghost or a murderous stalker possibly appearing at any moment? She wrapped her hands around the mug and felt life tingle back into her fingers. She took a sip of coffee – it burned her mouth but spread delicious warmth throughout her. She took another sip and started to feel human again.

  ‘Oh, and there’s chocolate.’ Bianca handed Sage a fancy box.

  Sage took a chocolate and frowned at the box. She glanced at the wastepaper basket under Bianca’s dressing table, and saw torn gold wrapping paper. She remembered Jason Jones sitting in the front row, holding a thin, flat box.

  ‘These are great,’ she said. ‘Where did you get them from?’

  Bianca shrugged. ‘An admirer,’ she said. ‘Occasionally you get something nice among all the creepy fan mail.’

  Sage chewed on her chocolate thoughtfully. She was sure now that there was something going on between Bianca and Jason Jones. She didn’t care what Bianca said, she had definitely seen her get into Jason’s car. And these chocolates were fro
m him. But was his interest in her romantic or professional? Sage took another chocolate. They were excellent.

  ‘You said you grew up in the theatre,’ she said through a mouthful of praline. ‘Were your parents performers?’

  Bianca nodded. ‘My whole family,’ she said. ‘My grandfather owned a theatre in the country.’

  ‘So how did you get to be a magician’s assistant?’

  ‘My dad was a magician,’ said Bianca. ‘And my mum was his assistant. I grew up around magic shows. I trained as a gymnast for a while, but this stupid ankle meant I could never compete seriously.’

  ‘That must have been fun,’ said Sage. ‘Growing up backstage at a magic show.’

  Bianca blew on her coffee to cool it down. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Mum and Dad were always busy rehearsing. Dad was a real perfectionist. Every trick had to be exactly right. I remember one time he got Mum to escape from being tied up with rope so many times that her hands started to bleed.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Sage. ‘That’s certainly some dedication to your craft. Are they still working?’

  Bianca said nothing for a moment, then sighed. ‘When I was fifteen, Mum retired and Dad got a new assistant, Estelle. He ran away with her after three months. I haven’t seen him since. I think they’re working on a cruise ship somewhere.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Sage.

  Bianca shrugged. ‘Mum got very sad, and I just wanted to get out of the house. We knew a lot of magic people – when I heard that Armand was looking for a new assistant, I applied. I started working for him when I was sixteen.’

  ‘How does your mum feel?’ asked Sage. ‘About you being in the magic business.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bianca. ‘I don’t really see her anymore.’

  ‘Is it common?’ asked Sage. ‘Do many magicians marry their assistants?’

  Bianca smiled a little sadly. ‘Many?’ she said. ‘Try all. Every single last one of them. Even if they’re already married to someone else. It’s one of the reasons why I like working with Armand.’

  Sage giggled. ‘You’ve never been tempted?’

  ‘Please.’ Bianca made a face. ‘Not in a million years. I’m pretty sure he’s gay, anyway. I saw him once with some guy.’