Mystical Love by Rachel James Page A

vanished once more to still life. Adrian reacted instantly, raising his hand to the portrait hanging above the fireplace. With split-second timing, the two portraits traded places. Stunned by the quick change, Janice emitted another sigh of appreciation. She studied Adrian’s profile and saw his concentration was intense as he stared at the portraits. What was the secret? Where was the power? How was he able to maintain such a high level of energy, while being drained so physically and psychically?
    The answer suddenly struck her. His hands! The power emanated from his hands. They were beautiful under the lights, expressive, mesmerizing. His entire act and stage presence were built around them. The way he smiled at the audience, flicked his hands. The way he paused for effect, like now, teasing them into catching their breath, making as if he were losing his concentration and the illusion would be lost. It was an incredible stage ploy designed to pull the heart out of an audience and cement them to him. It worked simply because it was the perfect symbiosis of his mind, heart, and soul with theirs.
    Hearing the music swell, Janice returned her gaze to the portraits. They were shifting again, but now with an unexpected twist. Ginger’s portrait vanished, replaced by a portrait of a woman with flaming red hair. Janice recognized the painting at once, as did Lloyd beside her. He stirred in his chair with a gargled croak. Turning her head, she found him tossing on his glasses so he could inspect the window frame more closely. By the look on his face, it was clear that he had recognized the painting as an exact duplicate of Princess Lisette in the gallery across the hall. Janice saw his mouth form the word “how?” She didn’t know and the shake of her head told him so. He returned his glasses to his shirt pocket, stuffed them down and refocused his attention on the window frame. She did the same, though in her ear, she heard him mutter beneath his breath.
    â€œHe’s too damn good.”
    Janice agreed completely, but before she could express the sentiment openly, the music peaked. The finale was in sight and she suspected its ending would be masterful and emotionally draining. She steeled herself for the onslaught and was surprised when a flicker of apprehension coursed through her. A quick, disturbing thought asserted itself like a neon sign in her mind.
Danger. Watch out.
Where had that thought come from? She must still be on edge from her earlier vision. She brushed at the goose bumps that pricked her skin and searched her mind. Nothing now. The thought had fluttered away as quickly as it had come.
    Leaning forward in her chair, eager to be drawn into the last fusion of music and movement, Janice listened carefully as the Phantom’s words beckoned, offered her to share one love, one lifetime. One love, one lifetime. The words began to echo over and over in her head and she couldn’t make them stop. She shook her head for relief and felt an unwelcome sense of inadequacy sweep over her, followed by a light throbbing along her temple. Not again! She willed the pain away with another shake of her head and focused her attention on the continuing illusion. She’d not give into another aggravating vision. One a day was plenty.
    The original painting reclaimed its home over the fireplace, Lisette’s portrait vanishing. Janice’s gaze flew to the windowpane, anticipating Ginger’s arrival. The canvas went blank, seeped bright colors but showed no distinct new pattern forming.
    Janice stole a peek at Adrian’s face and her heart skipped a beat. He was in trouble, his concentration unraveling. She wasn’t sure how she knew; his expression telegraphed no sign of distress. It was his hands, she realized. They were giving him away. They were struggling for — no against — something.
    Suddenly, she saw him break off in mid-concentration, grasp his temple and double over as if