James Swain - Dark Magic

“How can you be so sure?”

“How many pieces of information did you tell me your group looked at?”

“Thousands.”

“If there was another agent, you would have spotted him, don’t you think?”

Garrison started to reply, then thought better of it. He crossed the observatory and stood at the glass. With his hands shoved into his pockets, he watched the storm.

“You win,” he said. “How long do you think you’re going to need?”

There was no timetable when it came to solving a mystery, especially one which had the best brains in the FBI baffled.

“I have no idea,” Peter admitted.

“Guess.”

“A couple of hours. Maybe longer.”

Garrison glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to be giving the mayor a briefing at eleven. Call me if you come up with something.”

“I will.”

Garrison walked back to the elevators. He acted like he’d been expecting a miracle. Peter knew better. Figuring out the mysteries of the universe took time, especially when the forces of evil were involved. With the storm swirling around him, Peter shut his eyes, and soon became lost in thought.

Peter sat on the observatory bench with his eyes shut, and listened to rain pelt the windows. He felt like he was inside the belly of an enormous beast that had swallowed him whole. The only way out was to solve this mystery. Otherwise, he was a meal.

The minutes slipped by. The best way to figure out a trick was to pretend he was the person performing it. He’d done that with Houdini’s Vanishing Elephant, which had fooled magicians for over a century. Everything in Houdini’s show was based upon simplicity; what made the tricks great were the elaborate presentations. The secret of the Vanishing Elephant had also been simple. The elephant never left the stage. Houdini had performed an optical trick using mirrors and special lighting that made his audience think the elephant had disappeared, then sold it using superb showmanship.

He decided to try this approach with the Order of Astrum. On his fingers, he counted the things he knew about them. The Order had paranormal powers, and could see into the future. Each member had made a pact with Satan’s son, and dedicated their lives to causing harm and destruction to the human race. They were pure evil, and always would be.

Then he examined the mystery. The Order had sent Wolfe to different cities to kill psychics. A few days after Wolfe finished his assignment, an attack would occur, harming the city. The Order was somehow connected to these attacks. That was the mystery, and if he didn’t solve it soon, New York would be attacked as well.

He went to the window. Placing his hand against the glass, he felt the storm’s power surge through his body. He was looking for a slit in the hanky, something so obvious that it would have bit him, had he gotten any closer.

But what was it?

He thought back to the Friday night seance when he’d seen Wolfe standing in Times Square among the dead and dying. He still did not understand how Wolfe had killed so many people without any visible weapon. The spirits could be vague that way, and there was no way to get them to change.

Lightning flashed around him, and he instinctively pulled his hand away from the glass. As he did, a strange thought went through his mind. The spirits did not play favorites, and treated all psychics the same. The Order of Astrum were seeing the same things during their seances that Peter was seeing during his.

It took a moment for the thought to sink in. When it did, he let out a shout. That was the answer to the mystery. We’re seeing the same things.

He’d found the slit in the hanky.

* * *

He pulled up Garrison’s number on his cell phone, and heard the call go through.

“Where are you?” Peter asked.

“Out front. Some jackass is trying to tow my car,” the FBI agent said furiously.

“I figured out what the Order is doing. You’re not going to believe this. It was right in front of our faces.”

“Hold on. I’m on my way.”

Peter waited by the elevators. It was so incredibly obvious that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner. They’re no different than me, he thought. The elevator doors parted, and Garrison came out like a racehorse exploding out of the gate. A pair of foreign tourists were also in the elevator, hoping to take pictures. Peter guided Garrison away from them.

“Tell me,” the FBI agent said breathlessly.

“It’s simple. The Order isn’t behind the attacks.”

Peter thought the FBI agent might hit him.

“Are you crazy? Of course they are!” Garrison practically shouted.

The tourists were watching them. Peter pulled Garrison farther away.

“Listen to me. The Order is conducting seances, and looking into the future. When they see a horrific event taking place, they figure out where it’s occurring, and send Wolfe to the city to kill any psychics before they see the same thing, and alert the police. The Order doesn’t know who’s behind the attacks, nor do they have to. All they know is that an attack will happen, just like I knew the attack on New York was going to happen. Get it?”

Garrison’s face turned blank as he absorbed the information. Then, his eyes lit up. “And the Order is selling the information, instead of alerting the authorities.”

“Exactly. In a way, they’re coconspirators, since they know the attacks will take place. But they don’t know who’s behind them, or any of the details.”

“I thought Wolfe was involved in the attack you saw.”

“Wolfe was there. I’m guessing he was just a spectator.”

Garrison swore under his breath. “So we’re back to square one. We don’t know who’s going to attack the city, and have no way of stopping them.”

Peter had come to another hurdle. He’d been sworn to secrecy the night he’d conducted his first seance, and vowed never to break the confidences shared by those who regularly visited the spirit world. But there were exceptions to every rule, especially now, when the lives of so many innocent people were at stake. New York was his home, its people his family, and he was willing to break his vows in order to save it.

“Yes, we do,” he said.

Garrison grabbed his shoulders. “Then tell me how!”

The clouds were swirling around them, the city’s skyline eerily visible as it came into view. He struggled to find the words to explain. “It’s like this. Evil doesn’t pop up overnight. It takes a long time to grow inside of a person. First there’s anger, then rage, and finally evil appears. Over time, the evil creates an aura that’s seen by the spirits. If the aura becomes too great, the spirits make it known during a seance that something horrible’s about to happen.”

“Describe this person,” Garrison said.

“His soul has been poisoned, and he’s teetering on the brink of insanity. He’s a loner, and has pushed away whatever friends he once had. He’ll stop at nothing to cause death and destruction.”

“I hate to say it, but that describes a lot of people.”

“He’s also extremely intelligent.”

“How do you know that?”

“During my seance, I saw scores of people die, but no evidence of a bomb or guns. Whatever took those people down was invisible to the naked eye. That tells me that the attack he’s planning is extremely sophisticated.”

“You mean like chemical warfare.”

“Yes.”

“Could he be some kind of scientist or engineer?”

“That would be my guess. He’s got some kind of weapon he wants to unleash on the city. It’s too deadly for him to have built here without people knowing about it. I’m guessing he built it somewhere nearby, and plans to bring it in. You need to alert every cop in New York and surrounding areas to be on the lookout. Have them check the subways, the bridges and tunnels. With all the security cameras in this city, they might just spot him.”