James Swain - Dark Magic

“Well, I’ve got good news, and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Peter braced himself. “I could use some good news. Give me that first.”

“Sure enough. Liza saved the day after you split. She walked onto the stage, and told the audience that you’d been battling the flu, and could no longer continue. She made it sound like you’d dragged yourself from your deathbed to do the show. She was awesome.”

“My fan club didn’t revolt?”

“On the contrary. They totally understood, and gave you a standing ovation. Liza rescheduled the date for the end of next month. Everyone left happy.”

“Whew. That’s great.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“So, what’s the bad news?”

“You sitting down?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Liza quit.”

Peter brought his hand up to his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wouldn’t kid you about something like that. She came up to me after we closed the theater, and said she was leaving the show. She’s giving you two weeks’ notice so you can hire another assistant, and train her. I tried to talk her out of it, and she shut me down. Did you two have World War III or something? She was totally pissed.”

“She’s mad at me. I didn’t realize she was that mad.”

“Mad is an understatement. You need to talk to her, man.”

“Any idea where she is?”

“She went back to your place. I think she’s packing her things.”

Peter cupped his hand over the phone, and addressed the driver. “Can you go any faster? I’ll double the fare.” The cab sped up, and he lowered his hand. “Did she say anything else?”

“I asked her if you two guys were done,” Snoop said.

“And?”

“She turned away and started crying.”

“Thanks, Snoop. I’ll call you later.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Peter folded the phone, wondering if he could still get Liza back. They’d had fights before, but never anything like this. The cab entered Central Park, and began to race down the twisting roads. He stared out the window, wishing he could turn his life back forty-eight hours, and erase everything that had happened. What a trick that would be, he thought.

Liza was in the living room when he entered the brownstone.

“Are your friends all right?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes. I got to them in time,” he replied.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Please don’t leave.”

“Who told you I was leaving?”

“Snoop did. Say it isn’t so. Please.”

“My mind’s made up. If you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something.”

Taking out her cell phone, Liza snapped a photo of a stuffed panda named Butch that sat on the mantel over the fireplace. Butch could find playing cards, blow perfect smoke rings, and tell the future by banging on a drum. It was all a trick, courtesy of some amazing radio-controlled devices, but Liza had fallen in love with the little guy anyway. She hoisted her suitcase off the floor, and headed for the door, brushing past him. He wondered how he’d managed to ruin two relationships in one day.

“At least give me a second chance. I deserve that, don’t I?”

The suitcase fell from her hand. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave him a soulful stare. “Tell me something. How can someone who can read people’s minds be so clueless about their feelings?”

“I don’t mean to be.”

“But you are. You ran out on those kids. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I had to save my friends.”

“You couldn’t have called the police? Come on, Peter, when did you turn into a superhero?”

“I’m not a superhero.”

“You’re sure acting like one. Anytime you think something bad is going to happen, you go flying out the door without caring about the people you leave behind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true. Look, this will be over soon, and things will go back to normal.”

“Things will never be back to normal,” she said, sounding ready to cry. “You’re not the person I thought you were. Let me rephrase that. Half of you is the person I thought I knew; the other half is a strange dude with psychic powers who’s been leading a secret life none of his friends knew about. That’s the guy I’m having a problem with.”

“I didn’t want to keep secrets from you.”

“But you did. And you’re still doing it. I don’t know who you are.”

“I haven’t changed that much, have I?”

“Yes, you have. You act like someone possessed.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. You’re changing, and I don’t know why. Do you?”

He thought back to what Milly had told him. His parents had fallen into a lake with three of their little friends, and been miraculously saved by a spirit from the other side. But had it been a good spirit, or a bad spirit? His parents had changed the course of a war, yet had also been founding members of a murderous cult. He had no way of knowing what type of spirit had guided them. And if he didn’t know what spirit had guided his parents, he couldn’t know which spirit was guiding him. Liza wasn’t the only one who was confused.

“No,” he said quietly.

“No what?” she said, sounding exasperated.

“No, I don’t know why I’m changing. But I’m going to find out.”

“Well, send me a postcard.”

“You’re not going to give me another chance?”

“You’ve run out of those.”

He followed her out of the brownstone. The rain was coming down so hard that it made it difficult to see. At the corner she waved frantically for a cab. It was as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he shouted over the storm.

She spun around. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Just name it.”

“Stop doing these crazy seances, and come back to the real world.”

“I can’t do that. It’s who I am.”

“Then good-bye.”

A cab braked at the curb, splashing them both. Liza rammed her suitcase into the backseat, hopped in, and slammed the door. Kneeling down, he gazed at her through the window. He mouthed the words Please don’t go. She shook her head.

The cab sped away. He walked back to his empty brownstone, wondering if his heart might break. Liza had made him feel whole. Without her, he was nothing.

He looked to the sky. Was this his reward for doing the right thing? It hardly seemed fair, and he let out a frightening yell.

“God damn it!”

A car alarm pierced the air. It was quickly followed by another car alarm, and then another. Within seconds, every vehicle parked on the street was blaring.

He looked up and down the street in fear. His powers had made those alarms go off. He concentrated, and tried to turn them off.

Nothing doing.

He hurried inside his brownstone before his neighbors came out, and saw what he’d done.

Lying in bed that night, Peter stared at the side of the bed where Liza normally slept. Her leaving hadn’t seemed real a few hours ago. Now it did, and the pain was tearing a hole in his heart.

He rolled onto his back and gazed at the plaster ceiling. Tomorrow was Monday, and the theater was dark. Normally, he and Liza would sleep in, and spend the afternoon plundering an uncharted area of the city. New York had hundreds of neighborhoods, thousands of shops, and even more restaurants, and they’d tried to visit them all.

He retrieved his cell phone from the night table. He’d sent Liza several text messages, and apologized in every conceivable way he knew how. Still no response.