James Swain - Dark Magic

“I’m fine, Milly.”

“Holly said that a government agent took you away.”

“It worked out okay. We’re in the clear.”

“Leave it to you to make things right. It appears we have company.”

Max came through the doorway holding a brown paper bag. He tore away the paper to reveal a large foam cup with a plastic lid. “Your drink, my lady.”

Milly took the cup. She pulled back the lid and frowned. “It’s empty, Max.”

“Are you sure?” Max exclaimed.

“Yes. There’s nothing in it.”

“It must have vanished during the elevator ride up.”

“More likely you drank it.”

“Me? Perish the thought.”

“If it vanished, then make it reappear.”

“Your wish is my command.” Max waved his hand magically over the empty cup. “Like a ghost passing through the wall of an Irish castle, I command your drink to reappear. One, two, three! Why, look what we have here-your cup of decaf.”

The cup had filled itself with the steaming drink. Milly sipped it appreciatively. It seemed to lift her spirts, and the color returned to her face.

“How did you do that?” she asked him.

“Can you keep a secret?” Max asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“So can I.”

“How did he do that?” she asked Peter.

“I haven’t a clue. He fooled me completely,” Peter replied.

Max beamed at the compliment. Like all great magicians, he guarded his secrets like the crown jewels, and it would be a long time before Peter would be able to pry this particular trick out of him. Then, Peter had an awful thought. If Max were to die, he’d never know how the trick worked. The secret would die with him, along with all the other secrets that he possessed.

The thought gave him pause. Max had been present the night his mother had turned into a monster, and so had Milly. They’d seen the transformation, and understood its terrible meaning. The other people who’d been there-his father, Madame Marie, and Reggie-were gone. Lester Rowe had been there, but he was now thousands of miles away, and might never return.

Max and Milly were the only ones left who knew the secret of his parents’ supernatural powers. Peter could wait for a better time to talk to them about it, but if he’d learned anything over the past few days, waiting was dangerous.

“I need to have a talk with you and Max,” Peter said.

“This sounds serious,” Milly said.

“It is.”

“What do you say, Max?” Milly asked.

Max looked away, saying nothing.

“I’ll take that as a reluctant yes,” Milly said. “The floor is yours, Peter.”

“Thank you. I have a demon inside of me, which I inherited from my parents, who had the same demon inside of them,” he said, the words spilling out. “Both of you sheltered me from this demon when I was growing up, fearful of the harm I might cause. You tried to keep me from fighting with other kids because you worried I might hurt them.”

“That’s utter nonsense,” Milly scolded him. “You had a nasty little temper when you were a boy, and were getting into scrapes with other children. We tried to curb it, just like any intelligent adults would do. Didn’t we, Max?”

“He did have a temper,” Max mumbled.

“Which he eventually outgrew as he became a man,” Milly said.

“That he did,” Max said.

“So you see, Peter, this is all in your head,” Milly concluded. “If you’d had a demon inside of you, we would have had you exorcized, like that poor little girl in the movie. Only you didn’t, so there was no need. Right, Max?”

“Right,” Max said, laughing under his breath.

The hospital room fell silent, save for the incessant beeping of the machines. Peter might have been angry with Max and Milly, had he not loved them so much. He supposed that in their eyes he was still a child, and always would be. But that didn’t change his desire to know who he was. If anything, it only made it stronger.

“I saw the demon in the film of my mother,” he said quietly.

They both looked startled.

“What film?” Milly blurted out.

“The one taken during a seance many years ago at their apartment,” Peter replied. “I found it in Lester Rowe’s place.”

Milly brought her hand to her mouth. “Lester filmed that?”

“Yes,” he said. “And both of you were present.”

“He knows,” Max said under his breath.

A single tear ran down Milly’s cheek. Max plucked a hanky out of thin air, and handed it to her. Wiping her eye, she said, “I seem to vaguely recall the incident.”

“Tell me about it,” Peter said.

“Max, you do it,” Milly said.

Max moved closer to the bed, and dropped his voice. “Your mother never spoke about what happened that night, but your father did. We met in a pub for a drink, and ended up closing the place down. Your father told me that he and your mother had made a pact with a demon when they were children, and that it was this demon that had manifested during our seance, and taken over your mother’s body. I asked your father if the demon had ever taken over his body. Your father said that it had, but only when he lost his temper. This was why your parents tried to avoid having arguments, for fear of bringing the demon on.”

“And that’s why you didn’t want me fighting,” Peter said.

“That is correct. I’m afraid the demon is in you as well.”

“What is the demon’s name?”

Max hesitated. “I told your father I would take this to my grave.”

“I have a right to know who I am.”

Max glanced at Milly in the bed. She nodded imperceptibly.

“The demon is one of Lucifer’s sons,” his teacher said.

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Max grabbed the room’s only chair, and made him sit in it. Peter did. Leaning forward, he ran the fingers of his hands through his hair. Since the beginning of time, Lucifer’s presence in the world had been a dark one. To do his bidding, he’d created seven demonic sons, whom he’d sprinkled around the planet. For thousands of years, these sons had vied to see who could cause more grief and destruction, and were responsible for many of mankind’s atrocities. Their names were known to all in the spirit world, and they were the epitome of evil. Peter had never encountered one of these sons, and now shuddered to realize that he in effect was one.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked.

“Your father never said,” Max replied.

“He must have described him.”

“In a manner of speaking. He called him the wicked one.”

“How charming.”

Peter rose and went to the room’s solitary window. Cold air blew through the cracks, and slapped him in the face. “I don’t understand. My parents helped the Americans and the British defeat the Nazis, and win the war. How was that possible, considering what you just told me?”

“They were children,” Milly explained.

“So?”

“All children are born good. The corruption comes later, as they grow up.”

“Are you saying that even this demon couldn’t poison a child?”

“Children are pure,” Milly said. “Your parents, and their three little friends, could not be corrupted by this demon until later on in life.”

“But my parents weren’t corrupted.” He turned from the window to look at them. “They were wonderful people. Weren’t they?”

“He doesn’t understand,” Milly said to Max.

“We’re not doing a very good job explaining it to him,” Max replied.

“Explaining what? What are you leaving out?” Peter said, exasperated.

“Come to me,” Milly said.

Peter returned to her bedside. Milly took his hands, and held them tightly. “Yes, they were wonderful people. And so are you. Do you know why?”