It occurred to him that he was seriously flirting with depression.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to drop in at the Fogg after all. He had hoped it would distract him but it was having the opposite effect.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake,” he said.

“You’re leaving?” Jake asked. “So soon?”

Not soon enough, North thought.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going home.”

Alone.

CHAPTER 4

He walked out into the balmy desert night. The atmosphere was warm and pleasant but the world after dark was no longer the wondrous experience he had taken for granted ever since he had come into his talent.

Unable to resist a peek at what he was going to lose, he paused in the shadows and used both hands to take off the glasses. For a couple of seconds the night came alive. Even the bright lights of the Strip could not overpower the paranormal auroras that illuminated the sky.

But in the next moment the ghostly gray figures appeared, first at the corners of his eyes. The hallucinations advanced rapidly and soon threatened to swamp his vision. The whispers began.

Hastily he put on the glasses and took a couple of deep breaths until the visions and the whispers receded.

When he was sure he was back in control he cut through one of the heavily shadowed parking garages, entered the adjoining casino via the service door and made his way across the busy gaming floor.

He went out onto the crowded sidewalks of the Strip. The flashy, glittering casino hotels that lined both sides of the street blazed in the night with their own kind of energy, but it wasn’t the same.

Three-quarters of the way down the Strip he passed a set of shimmering mirrored doors. There was no sign. Most passersby probably assumed it was the private entrance to a condo tower. But behind the reflective doors were the offices, museums, libraries, storage vaults and research facilities of the Foundation.

The private quarters of the director, Victor Arganbright, and his husband, Lucas Pine, occupied the entire top floor. There was a large pool and elaborate gardens on the roof.

North walked on, turned a corner and used a ride-hailing app to summon a car to take him to the big house that sat alone out in the desert.

Half an hour later the driver stopped in front of the gated entrance.

“Thanks,” North said.

The driver studied the high-walled estate through the windshield. “Isn’t this the old mansion that belonged to that famous magician?” he asked. “The one who disappeared a long time ago?”

“Griffin Chastain,” North said.

“Right. Heard the house is called the Abbey or something.”

“The Abyss,” North said. “He named it after his most spectacular trick. No magician has ever been able to duplicate it.”

“They say the place is haunted. You know how it is here in Vegas. Everyone loves a good celebrity legend. According to the story I heard, Chastain’s body was never found. They say he probably died in that house while trying to perfect one of his dangerous tricks and that he still haunts the place.”