The Masquerading Magician
by Gigi Pandian
Ms. Pandian conjures up an interesting tale that shows the good and bad of the magic and ‘human’ worlds coming together. The subplot about the ‘missing stone gargoyle statue’ is not to be missed!
Pandian’s books are filled with historical details, usually very unique and always fascinating…The Masquerading Magician is a complex mystery with lots of twists and turns.
~Cozy Up With Kathy
The Masquerading Magician is the sequel to last year’s The Accidental Alchemist, and it doesn’t disappoint.
~The Bookwyrm’s Hoard
There’s magic, murder, flashes to a mysterious past, strong characters, humor, and suspense. Enough going on to keep me flipping from page to page, waiting for the next big surprise and those answers I wanted.
THE MASQUERADING MAGICIAN is simultaneously relaxing and riveting.
~Mallory Heart Reviews
The Masquerading Magician
(An Accidental Alchemist Mystery)
2nd in Series
Midnight Ink (January 8, 2016)
Paperback: 336 pages
Deciphering an ancient alchemy book is more difficult than Zoe Faust bargained for. She’d much rather be gardening and exploring her new home of Portland, Oregon—but time is running out for living gargoyle Dorian Robert-Houdin. If Zoe isn’t able to unlock the alchemy book’s secrets soon, the French gargoyle will remain awake but trapped in stone forever.
When Zoe gives herself a rare night out to attend a classic magic show that reminds her of her youth, she realizes the stage magicians are much more than they seem. A murder at the theater leads back to a string of unsolved robberies and murders in Portland’s past, and a mystery far more personal than Zoe and Dorian ever imagined.
About The Author
USA Today bestselling author Gigi Pandian spent her childhood being dragged around the world by her cultural anthropologist parents, and now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. She’s the author of the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mystery series (Artifact, Pirate Vishnu, and Quicksand) and the Accidental Alchemist mysteries (The Accidental Alchemist and The Masquerading Magician).
Gigi’s debut mystery was awarded a Malice Domestic Grant, the follow-up won the Left Coast Crime Rose Award, and her short fiction has been short-listed for Agatha and Macavity awards. A breast cancer diagnosis in her thirties taught her two important life lessons: healing foods can taste amazing, and life’s too short to waste a single moment. Find her online at www.gigipandian.com
Gargoyle photography blog: http://www.gargoylegirl.com/
A Book Excerpt
Persephone & Prometheus’s Phantasmagoria: A Classic Magic Show in the Modern World.
The giant poster was illustrated in the style of Victorian Era stage magic posters. Two figures faced each other from opposite sides of a stage, the larger one in a tuxedo and top hat, the smaller impish figure in a devilish red suit. The taller tuxedoed figure held a wand, pointed upward toward an ethereal floating figure. The devilish man held a ball of fire in his hand.
I smiled to myself as Max and I made our way through the lobby, my fingers looped through his. Some things had changed since the Victorian era. The tuxedo-clad magician in the poster was a woman. Prometheus and Persephone were a husband and wife magic act with equal billing.
Their style reminded me very much of posters of King-of-Cards Thurston and Carter the Great, both of whom used ghost and devil imagery in their posters and shows to illustrate the motif that they were magicians able to control the spirit world. The ambiance felt more like Paris in 1845, on the day Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin took to the stage at the newly-built Palais Royal theater with his ingenious mechanical inventions and masterful sleight-of-hand. But this was a small theater near Portland, Oregon’s Mt. Tabor, over 150 years later. Seeing that poster made me feel like I’d been transported back in time.
I should know. I attended Robert-Houdin’s show over a century ago.
Though I look outwardly like a woman in her late twenties with trendy dyed-white hair who’s named after her grandmother Zoe Faust, the truth is far different. Long before I bought a run-down house in Portland three months ago, I was born in Salem, Massachusetts. In 1676.
A shiver swept over me as a memory of a different time and place overtook me. Casually-dressed Oregonians with cell phones in their pockets became formally-attired members of society who would remember this performance for a lifetime.
I willed myself to remember it wasn’t a taut corset constricting my breathing, but my own nerves. I had thought tonight’s opening performance would be the perfect way to spend time with Max after he’d been away, but could I trust myself with him? I couldn’t tell him the truth about my past, no matter how much I wanted to.
Maybe this had been a terrible idea.
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