James Swain - Dark Magic

“How about right here? That way, if my aunt wakes up, we’ll hear her.”

“Fair enough. Get the potions, and I’ll set up by the window where the light’s good.”

Holly retrieved the herbs and potions from her aunt’s closet. Upon returning, she found a round vase filled with water sitting on the table. Max sat at the table, waiting.

“Isn’t that vase a little big?” she asked.

“My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” Max said. “The bigger the better these days.”

She prepared the potions, mixing them together with the tip of her little finger. “Unless Wolfe’s hiding someplace obvious, we’ll have no idea where he is. Will we?”

“The possessed are easy to find,” Max explained.

“You’ve lost me, Max.”

“Do what needs to be done. Then I’ll explain.”

Holly poured the potions into the vase, and the water turned a milky white.

“Spirits all so knowing,

I’m looking for a man who’s stopped growing.

His name is Wolfe, and he’s become possessed,

and now hides somewhere in the city.

Show me where, and I’ll be forever thankful,

that you chose to show me pity.”

“Not bad,” Max said, nodding approvingly.

“I’ve been working on my rhyming.” Holly pulled up a chair, and sat next to the old magician. “Now tell me why the possessed are easy to find.”

“It’s because of the baggage they inherit,” Max explained. “When a person dies, their soul leaves their body, and leaves behind things which are no longer of use to them. I’ll give you an example. Let’s say Wolfe was a smoker. When he died, his craving for nicotine stays behind. When Wolfe’s body became possessed, the possessor becomes a smoker.”

“How does that make Wolfe easy to find?”

“The human instincts also stay behind. Wolfe is now in hiding, correct? Well, I can tell you that he’s hiding in a place that is comfortable to him. A place that he knows.”

“Like a child would do.”

“Exactly. Just like a child. The possessor can’t control this.”

“What kind of places would Wolfe find comfortable?”

“Someplace he’s already been to. Perhaps a bar, or a restaurant. We’ll have to see.”

The water inside the vase had gone from cloudy to crystal clear. An image of a man appeared. It was Wolfe, wearing the same clothes which had been burned after his fall. The skin on his face was hideous to behold, with rigor mortis setting in. At his feet lay a child’s knapsack.

“That’s him,” she whispered. “It looks like he’s in a basement.”

Max leaned in. His bushy eyebrows came together as he stared. “I believe you’re right. He’s in the basement of a building. I can see the outline of a stairwell on the far wall.”

“I see it, too,” Holly said.

“Beneath the stairwell there’s a large object beneath a sheet.”

“You’re right. It looks like a child’s dollhouse.”

“Yes, it does.” Max brought his hand up to scratch his chin. “Damn it. Excuse me for swearing, but I’ve seen that shape before.”

“But where, Max?”

“It will come to me. Just give me a little while.”

They watched Wolfe pace back and forth. The dead man’s movements were stiff, yet animated. Once darkness fell, he would venture outside, and wreak havoc upon the city.

“We’re running out of time, Max.”

“I can’t rush this, Holly,” the old magician replied. “My brain is filled with thousands of pieces of useless information. It’s the curse of growing old. I need time to sort through it.”

“I’m going to call Peter, and tell him what we’ve found. Maybe he can make sense of it.”

“By all means. Peter is good at this sort of thing.”

The haunting blast of an air raid siren filled the apartment. It was frighteningly loud, and drowned out all other sound. Her aunt called from the bedroom.

“What is that awful racket?” Milly asked.

Holly rose from her chair, and put her face to the window. A long line of police cruisers were snaking down Central Park West with their bubble lights flashing. The lead cruiser had a loudspeaker on its roof from which came a policeman’s voice.

“Go inside! There is about to be an attack on the city,” the policeman warned. “Seek shelter at once. Do not come outside until told to.”

The street cleared out, with not a soul to be seen. Holly felt her body start to shake. The attack Peter had warned them of was about to happen. And only Peter could stop it. She dug out her cell phone while looking at Max.

“I’m trying,” the old magician said.

“Try harder,” she told him.

An air raid siren pierced the air. Peter had never heard one, except in old war movies on late-night TV. It was haunting enough to instill fear in a person, which he supposed was the point. People ran past. Before long, he was the only person remaining on the street.

A steel-gray sky blanketed the city. It was like a dreary canvas waiting to be completed. Would the picture be happy, or sad? Even he could not predict how it would look. There was another hour of sunlight left, maybe less. He tried to guess where Wolfe could be hiding. He’d read about trackers who could locate people in vast forests, but this was the city, with no footprints to be found. The expression “finding a needle in a haystack” came to mind.

His cell phone vibrated. He hoped it was Holly calling to tell him that she’d discovered Wolfe’s hideout. Instead, he saw that it was Liza. They hadn’t talked all day.

“Hi,” he answered. “I hope you’re not angry at me for not calling.”

“How about livid?” his girlfriend said icily.

“I’m sorry. Really.”

“I’m sick and tired of hearing you say that. I’m at the theater. Where are you?”

“What are you doing at the theater?” he asked, hearing the panic in his voice. “I told Snoop that you guys needed to stay at his place. The city’s in danger.”

“Don’t you remember? A foreign tour group booked the theater this afternoon. You were supposed to give them a private show. I had to send them back to their hotel. They were heartbroken. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot all about it.”

“Look Peter, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to be a puppet in your life anymore. You’re manipulating me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Say that one more time, and I’m hanging up.”

“But I am. I should have come clean long ago. You had a right to know who I am.”

“You can’t undo what’s done,” Liza said.

“At least give me a chance to try.”

A motorcycle cop rocketed down a deserted First Avenue. The cop spotted Peter standing outside, did a sharp U-turn in the street, and drove back to the building.

“Get inside,” the motorcycle cop ordered him.

“Yes, sir,” Peter replied.

Peter feighed going inside. The motorcycle cop sped away, and he returned to where he’d been standing. There were people inside the lobby, and he didn’t want them overhearing his conversation with Liza. His life was already complicated enough.

“Who was that?” his girlfriend asked.

“A cop. The city’s being shut down. There’s about to be an attack. I’ve been trying to stop it with the FBI. They asked me to help, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Still playing superhero?”

He didn’t feel like a superhero. Superheroes didn’t fail.

“This isn’t a conversation we should be having over the phone,” he said. “I want to be with you. Please give me a chance to make things right.”

“You want another chance?” she asked. He heard hesitation in her voice, and knew he was doomed.