James Swain - Dark Magic

Peter stared into space. For some reason, he’d always assumed that his mother and father had been born psychic, just as he had, and never considered that something might have happened during their childhoods which made them this way. It put a spin on things which he did not completely understand.

“How did they become the Order of Astrum?” he asked.

“I asked your mother that very question,” Milly replied. “She said it was your father’s idea. Your father felt they needed a name for their little group. He had read a story about Aleister Crowley, who had practiced dark magic during the turn of the century. Crowley called his group Argentium Astrum, which in Latin means silver star. Your father thought this was just splendid, so he named their group the Order of Astrum.”

“So it was all a game.”

Milly leaned into him. “Yes! Your parents never meant for it to be anything more than that. The horrible things came later, when the children grew up.”

“Do you know why?”

“Money.” She let out a deep breath, and seemed suddenly fatigued. “The other three were all failures at the work they did. They banded together, and decided to use their powers for financial gain. Your parents were against it, and left England and came to New York.”

“Is that why my parents were killed? Because they wouldn’t play along?”

“That was always my assumption.” Milly rose from the couch, signaling that she was done. “It’s been a long night. I need to get my rest.”

Peter rose as well. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents had sworn Milly to secrecy, and breaking that vow had not been easy for her. He put his arms around her, and rested his chin on her head. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, my dear boy,” she said.

It had grown late, and Milly was tired. She bid Peter goodnight and headed off to bed. Peter passed through the living room on his way out. He sensed the presence of a third person.

“Holly?”

He saw an indentation in the cushion of a love seat. Had Holly been sitting in the living room, waiting for him? If so, then why had she left? He wanted to speak with her, and headed down the hallway to the kitchen, where he pushed in the swinging door.

Holly sat at the round kitchen table with a sullen look on her face. On the table was a plate of her aunt’s homemade chocolate cookies.

“Still mad at me?” he asked.

“What do you think.” She sulked.

They had never fought well, even as kids. He grabbed a quart of skim milk out of the fridge and retrieved from the cupboard two glasses, which he placed on the table before pulling up a chair. Holly eyed him sullenly as he filled the glasses to the brim and slid one toward her.

“Who said I wanted a glass of milk?”

“I did.”

“But I don’t.”

“You always drink milk with your cookies.”

“Stop treating me like a child. I hate when you do that.”

“Pardon, madame.”

Peter picked up his glass and made an imaginary toast. When he put it down, his lip was covered in a white moustache. Holly forced herself not to smile, and looked away. He bit into a cookie and made an mmmm sound. She couldn’t help herself, and was soon eating one as well. The unhappy look would not leave her face.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you in the elevator,” he said. “I was out of line.”

“You were mean. And ugly. I didn’t like it.”

“I was out of my mind with worry. When I saw Wolfe come after you and your aunt, I lost it.”

“Did you have to take your anger out on me?”

“You were the closest target.”

“That’s no excuse, Peter.”

He was not going to win this argument, so he just finished his cookie. He glanced at Holly out of the corner of his eye, hoping her anger would fade. She still looked furious.

“I want you to explain something to me,” she said after an excruciatingly long minute had passed. “How can you tell me that you have feelings for me, and then treat me so rudely a few hours later? How does that work?”

“You know what they say. You always hurt the one you love,” he said.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“It’s a song by the Mills Brothers. ‘You always hurt the one you love, the one you shouldn’t hurt at all.’ Never heard of it? Well, it’s true, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“That moustache on your lip looks ridiculous.”

Peter found a towel and cleaned his face. The conversation had turned awkward. He’d spent a lot of time with Holly growing up, less so as an adult. She seemed a different person than the one he’d known as a kid. Had he a few hours to spare, he might have been able to get to the bottom of what was bothering her, only he needed to call Liza, and hear how his fan club had reacted to his bolting from the show. Hopefully, she had kept the damages to a minimum.

“I need to go,” he said. “When this is over, and Wolfe is caught, I want to take you out to lunch. We need to talk.”

“I’ll have to check my calendar.”

“Please say yes.”

“Can I pick the restaurant?”

“Of course you can.”

She met his gaze for the first time. “All right, yes.”

“Thank you. Good night.” He rose from his chair and went to the door.

“I want to help,” Holly said out of the blue.

The words caught him by surprise. He turned around slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to help you catch Wolfe,” she said. “I have powers, too. We could work together, and track him down. Two heads are better than one.”

Holly still didn’t get it. Wolfe was a monster, and so were the men who employed him. The best way to deal with monsters was to stay away from them.

“Do you really want to help me?” he asked.

Her face lit up. “Yes!”

“Good. Convince your aunt to stay indoors until we find him. Also, go find Reggie, and convince him to stay inside as well. Something tells me Reggie is still wandering around Central Park at all hours, conversing with the statues.”

“Damn it, that’s not what I meant! I want to help you. We could be a team.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She made another of her faces. He had seen people run away from her when she made faces, they were that powerful. He held his ground without flinching.

“Why not?” she seethed.

“Because you could get hurt, that’s why.”

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

“Well, I’m not. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

“When did this just become about you? Wolfe’s trying to kill all of us.”

“Let me deal with him. I have a bead on him. I see signs before he’s going to strike, and can react to what he’s doing.”

“What are you saying? That I’ll only slow you down?”

She had taken the words right out of his mouth. He gave her a tired smile.

“Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow first thing.”

“Go to hell, Peter.”

He waited until he was outside before turning on his cell phone. It was still raining, and a howling wind was blowing down Central Park West. He called Liza, and got voice mail. He didn’t leave a message, hoping his girlfriend wasn’t still angry with him. He tried the number at the brownstone. Still no answer.

A cab pulled up, and the driver looked at him through the windshield. Peter hopped into the back, and gave the driver his address. Soon they were driving toward the east side of town. Then he called Snoop. His assistant sounded more than a little upset when he answered.

“Peter-where the heck have you been? You had me worried, man,” Snoop said.

“Sorry. I’ve had my hands full. What happened after I left?”