Dark Magic

57

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.

“Yes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Peter heard a loud beep. Someone was calling him. Caller ID on his phone said HOLLY. She wouldn’t be calling unless she’d found where Wolfe was hiding.

“I need to take this call. Let me call you back,” he said.

“Are you kidding?” Liza said in disbelief.

“This is life or death,” he said.

“I’m sure it is. Call me when you have a spare minute to devote to our relationship.” Liza hung up on him.

He brought his hand up to his face. The world was spinning out of control, and he was about to fall off. He took Holly’s call, hoping she had good news to share with him. Anything would have lifted his spirts at this point.

“Tell me you found Wolfe,” he said.

“Max and I are looking at him right now,” Holly replied.

“That’s fantastic.”

“Don’t get too excited. We haven’t pinpointed where he is. Here’s what we do know. Wolfe’s hiding in the basement of a building. He keeps glancing at the ceiling, which makes us think there are other people in the building. Max says it’s a building Wolfe’s been to before.”

“How does he know that?”

“Max said that the possessed revert back to old habits, and return to familiar haunts. Even though Wolfe’s mind is possessed, his body is still functioning as if it’s his.”

“Are there any other clues?”

“There’s something stored beneath a sheet in the basement. It looks like a large dollhouse. Max is convinced he’s seen it before, but can’t place where. I’m guessing it’s a prop to a stage production, and that Wolfe is hiding in a theater.”

“How many theaters are there below Twenty-sixth Street on the West Side?”

“I’ve found six on Google so far.”

Holly started to recite the names when Peter heard a noise. The motorcycle cop had returned, and parked his bike at the curb. Seconds later the cop was standing beside him. “I told you to get inside,” the motorcycle cop said angrily.

“I have a lead on the man you’re looking for,” Peter replied.

“You and every other joker in this city. Get inside the building. That’s an order.”

“Listen to me. He’s hiding in the basement of a theater on the West Side. I’m getting the names of the theaters where he could be right now. He’s in one of these buildings.”

The motorcycle cop pinched his arm and began to drag him inside. He had a steel grip, and looked like he lifted weights when he wasn’t running down bad guys. When Peter resisted, the motorcycle cop twisted his arm, causing a jolt of pain to shoot straight into his shoulder.

“Don’t make me cuff you,” the motorcycle cop warned.

“You’re not listening.”

“Just do as I tell you.”

It was like talking to a wall. Peter felt defeated. Could anything in his day go right? He stopped resisting, and the motorcycle cop released his grip. His arm still hurt. If he’d learned anything in life, it was that nothing good came without a little pain and suffering. At that very moment the things Holly had just told him came together like a jigsaw puzzle inside his head. Wolfe had run to a theater he was familiar with. His theater. He was hiding beneath the stage, probably right below the trap door he’d fallen through during his previous visit. The object Max had seen draped beneath a sheet was the Dollhouse Illusion, which Peter had recently retired from his show. It would have looked familiar to Max, because he’d given it to Peter as a gift when he started performing over a decade ago.

The last clue was the worst of all. Wolfe was listening to the people directly above him. Snoop and Liza. Their lives were in imminent danger. He had internalized his anger long enough, and felt the rage boil to the surface.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.

“For what?” the motorcycle cop replied.

His actions were a blur. A quick blow to the helmet with the palm of his hand, and the motorcycle cop was lying on the ground. The next moment, he was straddling the cop’s bike, and attempting to kick-start the engine. It roared to life, and he pulled onto the street.

He called Liza and Snoop as he drove, and got voice mail. Either they were ignoring him, or were still dealing with the mess he’d left them with.

He raced across town in the pouring rain. It had been a long time since he’d ridden a motorcycle. The good news was, the streets were deserted, and he wasn’t going to hurt anyone if he spun out of control and crashed. Perhaps his streak of bad luck was finally over.

He could only hope.