Dark Magic

56

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?”

“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.