Dark Magic

7

Peter barely slept. His parents’ abduction kept playing in his head like a trailer for a bad movie. He couldn’t turn the damn thing off, no matter how hard he tried.

He opened his eyes the next morning to the smell of toasting bagels. The spot beside him on the bed was empty, and he could hear Liza downstairs in the kitchen. Tossing on his clothes, he barreled down the narrow staircase to the first floor.

Liza was a wonderful cook who did magic in the kitchen. He found her standing by the sink, wearing one of his dress shirts and a pair of fuzzy Garfield slippers. His eyes grew wide at the spread of food on the table. Sliced lox, cream cheese, tomatoes, chives, and a basket filled with sliced bagels. New Yorkers held bragging rights for many things, and that included the world’s best bagels. Some claimed it was the water they were boiled in; others said it was the dough. Whatever the reason, a New York bagel was a delicacy found nowhere else.

“This is awesome. What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“After last night, I thought you deserved a treat,” she said.

“You’re the best.”

“Have a seat. The show is about to begin.”

The food gave him an idea. He went to the basement, and grabbed a bottle of vintage champagne given to him by the Sultan of Brunei after a private show at the Waldorf. Liza oohed and aahed when he brought the bottle to the table. The cork hit the ceiling with a distinct Pop! He served her, and raised his own glass in a toast.

“May we never have a repeat of yesterday,” he declared.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said.

They drained their glasses and began to eat. As he bit into his bagel, he noticed Liza looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Something wrong?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t I look okay?”

“You talked during your sleep last night.”

“Really? What did I say?”

“You were calling for your parents. I never heard you do that before.”

He swallowed hard. There were so many things that he wanted to tell Liza about himself that he didn’t know where to start. And now he had more to add. He shouldn’t have waited this long, not with Liza. He put his bagel onto his plate.

“There are some things I need to tell you,” he blurted out.

“Really? About what?”

“About what happened last night. I know this is going to sound strange, but that guy who attacked me is somehow related to my parents’ deaths.”

Her eyes grew wide. “He is? How?”

“The cult he belongs to was responsible for their murders.”

“But I thought you told me the police didn’t know who murdered your parents.”

“They don’t know. But I do. I saw it last night.”

“Oh, my God, Peter. Is that what you were dreaming about?”

It was the perfect explanation, only it wasn’t the truth. He had to start being honest with Liza if this was going to work. He took a deep breath. “No. I went back in time, and saw the men who killed them. One of them had a shimmering tattoo on his neck. It was the same tattoo as the man who attacked me at the theater.”

“You mean you had a flashback,” Liza corrected him.

“No, I mean I went back in time.”

“Come on, that isn’t possible. Not even for you.”

She laughed at him with her eyes. Why couldn’t this be easier? He tried to continue when his eyes were drawn to the paper bag the bagels had come in. The Order of Astrum’s shimmering symbol had appeared on its side with bright red blood oozing from its center.

“Please give me that bag.”

“Don’t tell me you saw a roach crawling out of it. Yuck.”

“No. It was something else.”

By the time the bag reached his hands, the symbol had vanished, and been replaced by the bagel store’s cartoon logo. It was a sign from the other side. He needed to act quickly.

“I need to make a phone call.”

“But you hardly touched your food,” Liza said, sounding put out.

“I’m sorry, but this is important.”

A hurt look crossed her face. “Whatever you say.”

“I’ll explain everything later.”

“You’re acting weird, Peter.”

He hurried upstairs to the bedroom. Snatching Schoch’s card off the dresser, he punched the detective’s number into his cell phone. “This is Detective Schoch of the NYPD,” a cheery recorded voice answered. “Please leave a message at the tone and I’ll get right back to you.” Straight to voice mail. Damn it. He told Schoch it was urgent and hung up.

He was pacing the floor when his cell phone vibrated.

“Hello, Peter. How are you doing this morning?” Schoch said.

“I need to speak to you about the Order of Astrum.”

“What about them?”

“I know the real reason you came to see me last night.”

“Really.”

“Yes. I had a vision.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean it. My parents’ murders play into what’s going on. The Order had them killed, and now they’re after me. That’s why you and your partner came to see me, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say any more. I’m driving in to work right now with Dag. Give me your address, and I’ll come by, and we can talk.”

“I live at three hundred and twenty East Sixty-second Street.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

He returned to the kitchen to find Liza rinsing the breakfast dishes in the sink. His plate of food sat on the table, covered in plastic, while the other delicacies had been put away. When he came up from behind and tried to touch her, a plate slipped from her hands and broke.

“Shit,” she swore.

“I’m really sorry,” he told her.

She faced him. “I don’t like it when you keep things from me. You do that a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You need to be more open with me. All of this secrecy is driving me crazy.”

He’d never seen her this angry, and mumbled “Okay” under his breath.

“Is that a promise?” she asked.

“Scout’s honor,” he said.

“Were you ever a Boy Scout?”

“What do you think?”

“Damn it, Peter, I’m trying to be serious.”

She was boiling mad, ready to walk out. He’d stepped over a dangerous line.

“I promise to start acting normal,” he said.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The conversation had turned awkward. It was hard to live a lie, harder still when it was with the woman you loved. The doorbell rang, saving him.

“I’ll get it.”

He sprinted down the hallway and opened the front door. Schoch stood on the stoop wearing a beige raincoat and looking straight out of the pages of a glossy women’s magazine. Behind her, Dagastino was parked at the curb. He still looked angry about last night.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Schoch said. “Now, tell me about your vision.”

Peter stepped outside and shut the door. “I know you’ll think this is crazy, but I went back in time last night. I saw the three men who killed my parents. One had the Order of Astrum’s tattoo on his neck.”

“Hold on. You went back in time? How does that work?”

“The spirits do it. It’s how they reveal things.”

“The spirits.”

“That’s right. This morning over breakfast, the Order’s symbol appeared to me. There was blood coming out if it. The presence of blood is a sign that someone’s about to die. Wolfe’s getting ready to kill again.”

Schoch blew out her cheeks. “Assuming I buy in to this, who’s his next victim going to be?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Where will it happen?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“In that case, I’d say we’re plumb out of luck.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“It has nothing to do with believing you. I need something solid.”

“It’s the best I could do. I thought you should know.”

Schoch eyed him skeptically. “Let me ask you a question. Were your parents involved with dark magic? Did they practice witchcraft or anything like that? It’s important that you be up front with me.”

Peter had never discussed his parents’ psychic abilities with anyone outside of his Friday night group. Telling Schoch was going to feel strange, yet he knew it must be done.

“They were both psychics,” he said. “They held seances in my father’s study with a group of their friends. I stumbled upon them one night when I was a kid.”

“Could your parents have been involved with the Order?”

He thought back to his father’s study. Astrological symbols on the table, white candles, and the five-pointed star used to ward off evil spirts. He had not seen the Order’s symbol.

“No,” he said.

“Your parents were from England. Could they have been involved with the Order when they lived there?”

“We left England when I was little.”

“But you still have memories.”

“We lived in a flat in London. My parents taught at a small college. On weekends we went to the park, and I played while my parents read books. If they were members of the Order, I never saw any evidence of it.” He paused. “But you already knew most of this, didn’t you? You knew these things when you came to see me last night.”

“Most of it, yes,” she admitted.

He hated when people deceived him, and he felt himself grow angry.

“Who told you about my parents?” he asked.

“Please lower your voice.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m sorry. Please. Who told you?”

“I can’t tell you who gave me the information,” she said. “But I will tell you this. There are a lot more people besides the police looking for Wolfe. With any luck, they’re going to find him, and we can get to the bottom of this.” She consulted her watch. “I’m late for work. Call me if you have any more visions.”

“I’ll do that.”

Schoch got into the Volvo and her partner drove away. Peter shook his head. Why was it that whenever he talked with her, he felt like he knew less than when he’d started?

* * *

He opened the front door, and went inside the brownstone. Liza awaited him in the foyer. If looks could kill, he would have been six feet under, pushing up daisies.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Figure it out. You’re the mind reader,” she said.

He shut the door behind him. The intercom was covered with wet fingerprints. She’d heard their conversation. He leaned against the door, and shut his eyes.

“You were listening,” he said.

She punched him in the arm. “Stop climbing into your shell. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes and looked at his beloved.

“Damn you, Peter! We’ve been living together for two years. When were you going to tell me you had these strange powers?”

“I tried to over breakfast.”

“You really can travel back in time?”

“I can do a lot of unusual things.”

“Like have visions?”

“Yes.”

“And read minds?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What am I thinking about right now?”

He gazed into her eyes. “You’re thinking about spending the night at your girlfriend’s.”

“That’s a no-brainer. Which one?”

“Amber.”

She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. You really can. It’s not a trick.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn you, Peter. That’s not fair.”

She was pulling away from him. If he didn’t come clean with her now, it was over. Tell the truth, and maybe he had a chance.

“Do you remember my friend Nemo?” he asked. “We ate oysters at Balthazar while he told you jokes. He made you laugh the whole time.”

“What about him?” she said.

“Nemo is also psychic, and can see into the future. The CIA found out about his powers, and whisked him away to a farm in Virginia. He’s in their employ now, so to speak. They’re never going to let him go. That’s what happens to people like me. The government gets ahold of us, and we never come home.”

“There are more of you?”

“Yes. We have these gifts that we keep hidden.”

“You still should have told me.”

“I wanted to, but I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That you’d think I was a freak, and leave,” he said, the words pouring out. “I didn’t want to lose you. I know that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.”

The truth had a way of cutting through just about everything else. Liza crossed the foyer, and put her hand under his chin. Their eyes met.

“I would never do that,” she said.

“Is that a promise?” he asked.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Then I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

They kissed. Liza still loved him. He had been saved.

They returned to the kitchen. Peter sensed they were not alone. His eyes scanned the room, spying the Order’s shimmering symbol on the refrigerator. The oozing blood coming out of its center had been replaced by a face.

Peter got up close to stare.

It was Wolfe. The assassin sat at the counter of a diner, eating a breakfast of steak and eggs. Taking the knife off his plate, Wolfe tested the knife’s sharpness. Satisfied, he stuck it up his sleeve, and hopped off his stool.

The symbol vanished, leaving a menu for Chinese takeout.

“He’s going to kill someone,” Peter muttered.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Liza asked.

The diner looked familiar. It was on the Lower East Side, and served a mean breakfast. He had to alert the police, and grabbed his leather jacket off the back of a chair.

“I have to go out.”

“What? You can’t be serious. Didn’t you just promise me-”

“I’ll explain everything later.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He tried to kiss her, and Liza pulled away.

“You have to trust me,” he said. “The man who attacked me last night is about to strike again. I have to stop him.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“I just do.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ice, Peter.”

Liza followed him down the hallway. He went outside, and turned up his collar to the annoying rain. The front door slammed angrily behind him.

He hurried down the sidewalk, hoping she’d understand.