Dark Magic

34

Peter’s limo pulled up to the emergency entrance of Roosevelt Hospital on West 59th Street and Tenth Avenue, and he hopped out. Like many New Yorkers, he knew of Roosevelt Hospital through an episode of Seinfeld, where Jerry and Kramer had accidentally dropped a Junior Mint into Elaine’s ex-boyfriend during an operation. The send-up of the inept hospital staff had seemed funny at the time. It didn’t now.

The emergency room was loud and chaotic. He found Holly giving a statement to a uniformed policeman. Their eyes met, and Holly shook her head as if to say Not now. He backed away, and headed for the nurse’s station. He wondered what story Holly was giving the police. Something that left out the Friday night psychics and the Order of Astrum, he guessed. That was the bad thing about living a lie. Once the lie got started, there was no turning back.

The nurse’s station was also busy. The nurse in charge was a middle-aged woman with a kind face, and appeared to be the calm in the eye of the storm.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“A friend of mine named Reggie Brown was admitted a short while ago. I was wondering if you could tell me how he’s doing.”

She slipped on her bifocals and consulted a clipboard. The corners of her mouth turned down. “I’m sorry, but your friend didn’t make it.”

The words hit him like an invisible punch.

“You mean he’s dead?”

“Yes. He passed away a short while ago.”

He brought his hand up to his face. What good were his powers if he couldn’t save the people he loved? He wanted to scream.

A phone on the desk rang, and the nurse answered it. Peter lowered his hand. The cup of coffee on the desk was boiling over, the black liquid running down the sides onto the blotter. He forced himself to calm down, and the coffee went back to normal.

She hung up the phone, and resumed speaking to him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

* * *

The hospital cafeteria was near the emergency room. Except for a group of nurses on break, it was empty. Peter sat at a corner table, and stared at the pale blue wall. It didn’t seem possible that Reggie was gone. He’d been a part of Peter’s life for as long as he could remember. The notion that he was no longer alive just didn’t seem real.

Every psychic Peter knew was an eccentric; it seemed to come with the territory. But Reggie had been unique. He could look at any game of chance, and predict its outcome. Instead of turning himself into a billionaire, he’d used his gift to help others, and had supported many of the city’s less fortunate through his generosity. Reggie’s favorite quote had come from the Talmud. He who saves a single life, it is though he has saved the entire world.

Holly slipped into a chair across from him. In her hand was a Kleenex, which she used to dab at her eyes.

“What did you tell the police?” he asked.

“I told them Reggie got sick, and collapsed on the sidewalk.”

“You didn’t tell them Wolfe was chasing you?”

“How could I?”

“Tell me what really happened.”

“I went to Reggie’s hotel to warn him, and he convinced me to take a spin with him in his sports car. We were going north on Central Park West, when Wolfe rammed us with a delivery van. When Reggie got out, Wolfe came after him with a pipe.”

“Did Wolfe beat him?”

“No. I cast a spell on a pack of dogs, and they went after Wolfe.”

Peter drew back in his chair. “You did what?”

“Aunt Milly’s been working with me on casting spells. I’m getting good at it.”

“Then how did Reggie die?”

“Heart attack. I guess all the excitement got to him. I felt so helpless.”

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. She’d had an innocent childhood, until now.

“Does Reggie have any next of kin?” he asked.

“A sister in California. The hospital is calling her to make arrangements.”

“Good. I want you to go back to your aunt’s apartment. None of us are safe.”

“Are you mad at me for going out?”

“No.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

He reached across the table, and took her hands into his own.

“You did the right thing warning Reggie.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “There’s something I have to tell you. Reggie thought one of our group might be helping the Order of Astrum. I think he was right.”

“You do? Why?”

From her purse she removed a folded piece of paper, and slid it toward him. “I found this on the sidewalk. One of the dogs pulled it from Wolfe’s pocket before he ran.”

Peter unfolded the paper and had a look. It was a list of the names of the seven members of Friday night psychics. Beneath each name was the person’s address, home phone number, and, if they had one, cell phone number.

“This is Wolfe’s hit list,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“How did he get all of this information?”

“Someone in our group must have given it to him.”

“You mean a spy.”

“That’s right.”

“But all of our names are on the list.”

“So?”

“If there was a spy in our group, do you think he’d want Wolfe to kill him as well?”

Holly bit her lower lip. “No, I guess not.”

“There’s a spy, but it isn’t one of us. Someone else did this.”

“But who could it be?”

Peter again studied the list. Something about it bothered him. After a moment, he realized what it was. The information included Max’s cell phone number. Max had only recently crawled out of his cave and purchased one. Max had given Peter the number in case of emergency, and asked that he not share it. Max was a private person, and Peter didn’t think the other members of the Friday night group had the number.

There was one way to find out.

“Do you have Max’s cell phone number?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. Let me check.”

Holly took out her cell phone, and went through the phone book. “No, I just have his apartment number. Is that significant?”

“Yes. I’m the only member of our group that has Max’s cell number. The spy got this information from me.”

“But how’s that possible? I mean, this isn’t stuff you talk about, is it?”

Peter never talked about his psychic friends. Nor had he put their names and phone numbers on his computer. The spy had gotten the information from his cell phone.

He slammed the table with the palm of his hand.

“For the love of Christ,” he swore.

“What’s wrong? You’re getting all red in the face.”

“I have to go.”

“Peter, wait.”

He rose from the table so abruptly that he knocked over his chair. The nurses stopped their conversation to stare at him.

“Go back to your coffee and gossip,” he told them.

“Peter, get a hold of yourself,” Holly said.

He hurried out of the cafeteria. Holly caught up with him in the hallway, and grabbed his arm. “Don’t run away from me like that,” she said furiously.

“I have to deal with this,” he said.

“Do you know who it is?”

“I have a good idea. Go back to your aunt’s apartment, and stay there until I call you.”

“Don’t order me around. I hate when you do that.”

“Do it anyway.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

They came to the street entrance. Outside it was cold and nasty and wet. Peter zippered his jacket while staring at his reflection in the glass door. Not having a family growing up, he’d compensated by creating one as he’d gotten older. It made the betrayal that much greater.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” she begged.

“It’s one of my assistants,” he said.