James Swain - Dark Magic

“See that?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, and it’s creeping me out,” Garrison replied.

“Somebody give me a hint what’s going on,” Fiesler said.

“He’s being possessed,” Peter explained.

Wolfe’s eyelids snapped open. Knocking the scalpel away, he sat bolt upright, and hopped off the table. In a mad fury he began destroying things, his movements stiff and awkward. The doctor performing the autopsy fled from the room.

Wolfe went to a closet in the autopsy room. He pulled out a cardboard box filled with clothes, and removed a tattered pair of pants and a shirt. He dressed himself, and staggered away.

“What’s with the clothes?” Garrison asked.

“Good question,” Fiesler replied. “He had a choice of clothes, including a brand-new pair of scrubs hanging inside the closet. For some reason, he took the clothes he was wearing when he was brought in. I guess he had some sort of attachment to them.” She paused. “So let me ask you gentlemen a question. How do my staff and I explain this without looking like lunatics?”

“You don’t,” Garrison answered.

“Come again?”

“Keep a lid on it,” the FBI agent said.

“But that’s not ethical.”

“No, it’s not. But how’s it going to look if you start telling people you saw a corpse come back to life?”

“Not good,” she admitted.

“I’d call it career-threatening. People would question your ability to do your job. My advice would be for you and your staff to make up a story, and stick to it. That’s what we do in the government.”

“You’re saying we should lie,” Fiesler said.

“Through your teeth.”

“Whatever you say. Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?”

“Can you e-mail me a copy of this video?” Peter asked.

“I don’t see why not,” the doctor replied.

Peter wrote his e-mail address on a slip of paper. Fiesler got onto her computer, and through the magic of the Internet, the e-mail appeared on Peter’s cell phone seconds later.

“Much appreciated,” he said.

“Last question,” Fiesler said. “What should I do with this film?”

“Make it go away,” Garrison answered.

Fiesler erased the autopsy of Wolfe, and walked out of the office.

Peter forwarded the autopsy film to Holly, with Garrison looking over his shoulder.

“I have a friend who’s a witch,” Peter explained. “She has the ability to track people down if she knows what they look like.”

“Can all psychics do that?” Garrison asked.

“No, they can’t.”

“So you’re not all the same, then.”

“Hardly. Our gifts come from different places, and let us do different things. The thing we share in common is the ability to communicate with the spirit world.”

“Can your witch tell me where Wolfe’s hiding?”

“To a degree. She’ll able to tell us if he’s hiding inside a building, or on a rooftop, or in a bedroom. Hopefully, she’ll spot some landmark that will tell us his location.”

“How long will this take?”

“Hard to say. I have to talk to her first.”

Garrison consulted his watch. The frown on his face grew more pronounced. The thoughts racing through his head were as easy to read as a ticker tape. He was going to call his superior in the FBI, and tell him to override the mayor, and shut down the city. If Wolfe did release the nerve agent, it would reduce the number of lives lost. It was the best Garrison could do, considering the circumstances.

Peter followed him upstairs. Perry was waiting outside the building for them. Garrison headed for his car, then stopped, and came back to where Peter stood.

“Explain something to me,” Garrison said. “How did the Order of Astrum know to have Wolfe intercept Carr, and steal the knapsack? You said they didn’t know what was going on.”

“They didn’t,” Peter replied. “When Wolfe was killed last night, the Order realized their plan was in jeopardy. They figured out it was Carr the same way we did.”

“So how did they find him?”

“Carr’s incident at the lab was on the news. The Order must have seen it on CNN, and realized he was the one. They probably used astral projection to search for him, and saw all the police gathered around Penn Station. That was the clue they needed. They possessed Wolfe, and sent him to intercept Carr.”

“So you’re saying they got lucky.”

“Afraid so.”

Garrison was burning up inside. He’d never had an assignment break this bad.

Peter’s cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out, and stared at the face.

“That’s my witch. I’ll call you when I know something.”

Garrison hurried with Perry to his car.

* * *

Peter stepped under the building’s awning to answer the call.

“That was fast,” he said.

“I just watched the film you sent me,” Holly said. “Is this a science fiction movie?”

“Wolfe’s body has been possessed, and he’s got his hands on a deadly nerve agent. You have to find him. Ask Max and Milly to help. The more eyes the better. He’s hiding out somewhere south of Twenty-sixth Street, on the west side of town.”

“Why’s he hiding? Why not release the nerve agent now?”

“He’s waiting until dark. It will make things easier.”

“There are only so many places a dead man can hide. I’ll call you when I know something.”

“Thanks, Holly.”

“No need to thank me. We’re all in this together, you know.”

Peter started to say good-bye, then stopped. Nemo had predicted that he would die at Wolfe’s hands tonight. That had not seemed a reality, until now. There were some things that even a psychic couldn’t change, and he realized he might never speak to Holly again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit lately,” he said. “You deserve better. Please forgive me.”

Holly’s voice softened. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. When this is over, we need to talk. I have a special gift for you.”

He swallowed hard. Would he die not knowing what it was?

“What kind of gift?” he asked.

“It will change your life.”

“Really? Tell me.”

She laughed. “You hate being kept in the dark, don’t you? You’ll have to wait.”

“Come on. Please.”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s three hundred years old, and came from Mary Glover.”

“The witch? What is it, a magical talisman?”

“That would spoil the surprise. I’ll call you once I’ve located Wolfe.”

He smiled into the phone. Holly wasn’t angry with him anymore. If he died tonight, he would know that at least he’d ended things right with her.

“Good-bye, Holly,” he said.

Holly folded her phone with a smile on her face. Peter sounded like his old self again. More than anything else, she wanted Peter to be happy, and not to suffer. If that wasn’t a definition of true love, she didn’t know what was.

She glanced at her aunt. The sleeping pill had knocked her out cold. She decided that it would be a bad idea to awaken her. Better to ask Max to help her track down Wolfe. Max had a keen eye for that sort of thing.

She found the old magician snoring on the couch in the living room. Several vigorous shakes were required to rouse him from his dreams. Max awoke with a start.

“What’s going on?” he asked excitedly.

“I just spoke with Peter. He wants us to find Wolfe.”

“That should be easy enough,” Max replied. “Wolfe’s in the morgue.”

“Afraid not. He’s become possessed, and is about to release a nerve agent on the city. He’s holed up somewhere below Twenty-sixth Street on the West Side. Peter wants us to locate him.”

Max dragged himself off the couch. The sleep was slow to leave his face. Shaking it away, he said, “He’s possessed? That makes him easier to find. Where do you want to do this?”