Page 11 of The Rising Tide
Nobody was more surprised than Lucky when it did.
Scout wasn’t touching the table. He was, in fact, six feet away from it. The table wasn’t under the eaves, and there were no wires, not above nor below.
It was justhoveringthere at the top of the stairs before it started a stately and grand march down.
The audienceooohed appreciatively, and Scout said, “Would Lucky like to check it for tricks?”
Well, hell yes, he would.
There were, in fact, two flights of stairs: the one closest to the harbor, which the table was using as a guide to its descent, and the one leading from the small eating area to the street people had to cross to get to Helen’s shop.
Lucky took the other staircase down from the walkway and met the table as it descended, passing his hands underneath it while it was still at chest level, and then over the top and sides of it as it continued lower.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, ignoring the gasps of the mothers in the crowd. “No strings.”
Scout’s playfully raised eyebrow should have warned him of what was coming.
“Are you sure?” Scout asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Oh my God!”
The table, which had come to rest about six inches off the concrete of the food court, suddenly zipped right back up the stairs to rest at Scout’s feet.
Lucky gasped like the rest of the crowd, and Scout waggled both eyebrows at him.
“It seems to like me,” Scout said mildly.
And then the table lifted up off the ground again and went zooming around in a wide circle over the concrete apron, over the heads of the onlookers, balancing on the rail of the tidal wall that overlooked the ocean and twirling, the tablecloth spinning out, out, out, out before separating entirely and hovering over the table.
The look Scout gave the table then was not exactly surprise—and definitely not panic. It was more an “I’m gonna kill so and so when I get my hands on them!” as he made a gesture with his fist and called the table back.
Yes, that’s exactly what he did. Hecalled the table back. It whizzed over the audience’s heads fast enough to whistle before planting itself firmly at his feet, the tablecloth floating gently down from about ten feet to land on the surface, now that it was done with its adventure.
Lucky knew he wasn’t the only one staring in awe as Scout shook his finger playfully at the little table and then gave a grand bow.
The crowd erupted into applause, and then the table floated up about two feet, inclined itself as though bowing, and floated down again. Scout gave it a startled look that Lucky would put money on as being unfeigned, and the crowd wentwild.
“Thank you!” Scout called. “You’ve been watching the Great Gestalt! I perform here twice a day, and anything you’d like to learn about magic, you can find it right here at Gestalt Magic Incorporated!” He gestured to Marcus’s shop and bowed again, and the crowd began to disperse, many of them disposing of their fish-and-chips wrappers before disappearing into Gestalt Magic Incorporated. Lucky took the stairs up, beating the crowd, hoping to have a word with the Great Gestalt when he’d spent nearly six weeks avoiding him.
As Lucky drew abreast and people flowed around them, Lucky heard Scout mutter, “Kayleigh, I’m going to throttle you.”
Scout’s sister circled around the concrete walkway to them, pausing to kiss Scout on the cheek. “Sorry, Scout,” she said sheepishly. “I was trying to make up for being late.”
Scout gave her a lopsided grin. “I know you were, but I almost had a heart attack when I thought you were going to send it over the water.”
She grimaced. “Oh hell no—no control over the water. You’d think somebody would have told usthatlittle tidbit, right?”
Scout glared at her, and she noticed Lucky, standing awkwardly near him and soaking up every word.
“It’s, uhm, harder to maintain the illusion,” she mumbled, clearly lying.
“Kayleigh, my dear,” Marcus called over the crowd. “Could you come in and help me? I’m afraid the Great Gestalt has a, erm, business meeting he can’t avoid.”
Scout looked puzzled as she nodded and followed Marcus in to help him ring up purchases, and then he and Lucky were out on the concrete apron alone, next to a very ordinary but well-traveled little table.
“I, uhm, wonder what that’s about,” Lucky said, feeling green and awkward.
“They’re trying to give us time alone,” Scout said glumly, giving him an apologetic look. “Which is stupid because you obviously don’t like me, so really, it’s sort of pointless.”
