Deadline is a suspenseful and haunting story where fear and family secrets intertwine in a race against time.

To uncover the truth about her mother’s mysterious disappearance years ago, the estranged daughter of a renowned illusionist must overcome her fear and spend three nights in her father’s secluded gothic mansion, where he has vowed to return from the grave.

Helped by an adventurous reporter, she discovers a terrifying childhood secret that thrusts her into a world of deception and jeopardy, confronting a haunting supernatural presence and dark family secrets.

Deadline is a supernatural, mystery thriller with a strong female protagonist, a deeply terrifying antagonist and a series of disturbing surprises that build to an ultimate shocker of an ending, blurring the lines between reality and illusion.

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Excerpt from Deadline © Copyright 2024 William G. Hyland Jr.

CHAPTER ONE

2004
Las Vegas, Nevada

A sword rose from the shrouded darkness, sharp and gleaming. Its point came to rest on the exposed neck of a woman.

Wearing a flowing white dress, Elizabeth Sebastian struggled against the chains binding her tied wrists. A bright light shone on her face, highlighting her dark hair and high cheekbones.

Nicholas Sebastian, her husband, swept past her while nests of electricity bloomed in the clouds above him. He caressed the small tattoo of orchids dripping off her left shoulder. Rubbing a face that appeared to be carved in flint, Nicholas appeared much older, with a neat Vandyke beard and a string of tiny brown moles leaking under his left eye.

Elizabeth squirmed, her chin quivered, and her pulse quickened.

Nicholas circled her, studying his victim. Brandishing the sharp sword, he twirled it in the air, his forearm muscles flexing. He pressed its point closer to Elizabeth's neck. Rage burst across his face when he plunged the weapon into her body.

Thick crimson blood blossomed on Elizabeth's white gown. Life drained from her body as her head slumped forward. Sebastian placed his thumb above her left eyelid, raised it, and then let it drop back.

A beat, then murmurs and whispers. Gasps followed.

Bright red spotlights appeared on the massive stage of the Las Vegas theater. Then the audience fell silent, not knowing whether the illusion was real or if something had gone horribly wrong.

As the floodlights became brighter, Nicholas moved from behind the drawn purple velvet curtains, the bloody sword clutched in his right hand. Brandishing the sword above him, he tossed it high, then clapped his hands once. There was an explosion of light and smoke as the sword vanished. He clapped his hands again, pointing to the back of the theater. The audience turned to see Elizabeth, unharmed, standing and giving a graceful bow to Nicholas.

She strolled down the carpeted aisle to the stage, joining her beaming husband. The crowd erupted into a standing ovation as the couple stood, hand in hand. Elizabeth shifted away from the magician, subtly breaking his hold. Nicholas continued his curtain call as she exited the stage.

Their talent manager waited in the wings. Giles Corey was fiftyish with Silly Putty features and a pear-shaped body. His eyes had the puffy circles of an insomniac. He greeted Elizabeth with a tired smile, handing her a soft cotton towel.

“Terrific, darlin’. That husband of yours is quite the entertainer.” Giles held one of his enormous Cuban cigars in his right hand as he spoke.

Elizabeth hesitated, forcing the words out. “Where’s Kit?”

“The little princess is fine. Stop worrying,” he said through a hacking cough.

Elizabeth glared at her husband, still on stage, lingering, blowing kisses, and taking dramatic bows to the cheering audience.

She sliced Giles with a glance.

“Someone has to,” she said, returning to the stage.

When the curtain lowered, Elizabeth moved into her lavish dressing room. As she undressed, she smelled the sweet fragrance of slow-burning white jasmine candles. Then, her attention focused on her six-year-old daughter, Katherine. Surrounded by tubes of stage makeup, Kit romped on the floor, her angelic face smeared into an almost unrecognizable mess.

“Oh, Kit. Rebecca? Where are you?”

The nanny, Rebecca Moore, staggered out from a side door, holding an emery board, filing her nails. With her gray hair pulled back tight, she had an aura of old theater, a net of premature wrinkles seamed into her expression.

Exchanging the emery file for a tumbler full of cognac in one hand, Rebecca clutched her frail little son, Frankie, in the other.

“He knocked ’em dead again, honey,” she said. “They’re still on their feet.”

Elizabeth shot her a sour stare. When Rebecca saw what Kit had done, she clucked her tongue, nudging Frankie aside.

“Cccc… congratulations, Miss Elizabeth. Ggggg… great show,” Frankie said with a severe stutter.

Elizabeth patted the boy’s head and hurried past him to Kit.

“Clean her up before Nick sees her like this.”

“You wicked little child,” Rebecca said. “Out, out damn spot.”

She moved with a surge of enthusiasm to a wet bar. “I’ll just get Mr. Sebastian’s drink.”

“Don’t bother,” Elizabeth said, but Rebecca had already poured an amber liquid.

“It’s no bother. I know how keyed up he gets during a performance.”

Elizabeth sat at her elaborate dressing table adorned with ornate crystal perfume bottles. She combed her hair and creamed her face, glancing at Kit’s oversized Beatrix Potter rabbit doll in the corner when the door flew open.

Nicholas stormed in, followed by Giles. Bristling with nervous energy, he rushed to Elizabeth with two dozen yellow roses bound with a gold charm necklace. She stirred in her chair and slid the chain off the roses. Nicholas placed the gold and diamond chain around her neck. Twisting his black onyx ring, he stared at her reflected image in the mirror. His expression transformed as he narrowed his gaze.

“It’s Egyptian,” he said. “These charms give one eternal life. When a husband gives this to his wife, nothing can separate them… not even death.”

Elizabeth lowered her stare.

“Look at me, my dear.” He placed his massive right hand under her chin, lifting it to him. Her eyes met his.

“I have never seen eyes as clear and blue as yours, my love. It’s like staring into infinity.”

Nicholas rubbed his manicured fingers over her smooth cheek. “Did you tell Giles about the new finale?”

Giles made a pocket of air in his jaw, waving him off. “We’ve made a lot of money with the illusions we have. Why change now?”

“But there’s always a greater, more spectacular illusion.” Nicholas pointed a finger at Giles like a parent scolding a child. “To deceive is to enchant.”

Rebecca hurried back into the dressing room, leading Kit to her father. Nicholas clutched the little girl into his arms, kissing her on the top of her head.

“There you are, Kitten. My little star, my little ballerina.”

He hugged Kit, nuzzling her. When he let her down, she handed him a glass of lemonade with cracked ice and mint leaves.

“For me? Thank you, my little darling.”

He squeezed and kissed Kit all over her face while she giggled with delight.

“Honestly, you’re spoiling her rotten Nick,” Elizabeth said, “and I don’t see why.”

“No? Perhaps, you wouldn’t my dear. The reason is that she’s the first person who belongs solely to me.”

When Nicholas emphasized the word, “belongs,” Elizabeth felt her arteries compress.

Hugging and kissing Kit even more, Nicholas said, “My little star. Soon it will be your turn, Princess, to take center stage with Papa.” He turned to Rebecca. “Did the new costumes arrive? Where are they? Let me see them… now, now, now.”

Scurrying over to the clothes rack, Rebecca took out a lavish 16th century Joan of Arc costume. She held it up to Elizabeth. Reluctantly, she modeled the gold-sequined dress.

“Hold it higher,” he said. “Higher.”

Nicholas examined the dress against his wife’s figure.

“Yes… yes. Exquisite, my love.” He cocked his head. “St. Joan of Arc. The new finale. Let’s show Giles, shall we.”

“I’m tired,” she protested.

Giles sniffed. “Show me what?”

Nicholas clutched Elizabeth’s arm. He drilled her eyes with an unblinking stare, something between request and menace. His fingers sunk into her soft flesh, fusing with the oil and stage sweat from his hands. Nicholas’s breath quivered like a feather when he kissed her cheek.

Elizabeth stayed quiet, a reservoir of fear mixed with anger igniting in her brain, then she submitted.

Grabbing the rabbit doll, Nicholas scooped Kit up as they all moved to leave. His upper arms swelled as he hoisted Kit onto his shoulders.

“It’s something better experienced than described,” he told Giles.

Elizabeth turned to leave, then caught Rebecca pulling Nicholas’s tuxedo jacket close to her cheek, her mouth tugged in a slight grin before she hung it up.

As they moved through a labyrinth of underground tunnels in the theater, Nicholas came to a large, sliding door. A sign overhead read, “KEEP OUT. CAUTION. HIGHLY FLAMMABLE LIQUIDS.”

Opening the massive door, he gestured to an immense theatrical prop sitting on a decorated backstage.

“It took me six months to design and perfect. The workmen just finished it last week. What do you know about witchcraft?”

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