Authors: James Swain
“Positive. You can come out now.”
“Did he leave his wallet on the couch? He does that sometimes.”
Milly glanced at the indented cushion beside her. “No. The coast is clear.”
Holly slipped into the living room from the butler’s hallway, and joined her aunt. She was dressed in her school uniform of faded blue jeans and a brown turtleneck, her hair pulled back in a bun. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed filled with nervous energy.
“Do you think Max knows I was spying on him?” Holly asked.
“It wasn’t spying,” Milly said sharply. “We need to know if Max is trying to protect Peter. Since you’re close to Peter, I thought it was best if you heard what Max had to say.”
“It certainly felt like spying.”
“Very well. You
were
spying on him. Now tell me, is Max trying to protect him?”
“I don’t think so, Aunt Milly.”
“Good.”
Holly gazed out the window. In profile, she bore a striking resemblance to her aunt. Witches carried powerful genes, and it was not unusual for descendants hundreds of years apart to look nearly identical. Milly was a direct descendant of Mary Glover, who’d been hanged during the Salem witch trials. Glover’s powers had included the ability to see into the future, cast spells that only she could break, and a strange sway over dogs, cats, farm animals, and birds. Holly had seen a portrait of Glover in an old book entitled
Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcraft and Possessions.
The resemblance had been uncanny, right down to their hairstyles, and the birthmarks on their chins.
“I have a question,” Holly said. “Are you really going to let Peter go it alone?”
“You heard what I told Max,” her aunt replied. “Peter must take this journey by himself. That’s how the process works, and there’s no getting around it.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I am right.”
“I wonder what he’s told the FBI.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Holly looked at her aunt. “Do you want me to spy on Peter, as well?”
“I most certainly do. When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“This morning. He called to warn me about Wolfe. Oh my, look at the crows.”
Milly shifted her gaze. The crows were hovering in perfect rows, flapping their wings like the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes. There were times when she did not find their antics amusing. She flipped her hand, and they dispersed to the trees across the street, where they began to squawk up a storm. Even birds did not like to be dismissed.
“You seem distracted,” Milly said. “Is something wrong?”
Holly bit her lip and shook her head.
“You’re red in the face. Are you getting sick?”
“I feel perfectly well, Aunt Milly. Thank you for asking.”
“Good. Now here’s what I need you to do. I want you to contact Peter, and find out what he’s said to the FBI. Loose lips sink ships, as they say. Make certain that he isn’t talking to anyone else. He has a girlfriend, doesn’t he?”
“You mean Liza?”
“Do you know her?”
“She’s Peter’s assistant. I saw her at his show. She’s very beautiful.”
“Do you think he’s sleeping with her?”
“Aunt Milly!”
“Don’t act so shocked, my dear. It’s a perfectly legitimate question.”
“I would think so. They live together.”
“Damn.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Men are idiots when it comes to sex, and I’m sure Peter is no exception.”
Her niece was blushing. They’d talked about sex before, and it had been perfectly comfortable. Something was on her niece’s mind.
“Look at me,” Milly said.
Holly turned from the window to look at her aunt. A long moment passed.
“Oh, my God. You’re in love with him.”
Holly swallowed hard and nodded. “He loves me too. He said as much over the phone this morning. I’ve been in love with Peter ever since I could remember, and I think he’s always loved me. It just took something dreadful to happen for us to both acknowledge it.”
“But he has a girlfriend.”
“This is different.”
“You think he’ll leave her for you?”
“I’m not thinking that far ahead. Peter will decide when the time is right.”
Milly rose from the couch and crossed the room. She put her hand on her niece’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. “You are heading down a dangerous path, my dear. For your own good, please reconsider.”
Holly’s face clouded. “No.”
“Not even for my sake?”
“No. I won’t turn him away. Not even for you.”
Milly felt the air escape from her lungs. She had no one to blame but herself. It was her doing that Peter and Holly had formed a bond when they were young; what had she thought was going to happen? This was real, and there was no changing it.
Milly stared out the window. Of late, it seemed like so much of her time was spent here, gazing at the lush oasis of the park across the street. The habits of an old woman, she supposed. In the glass’s reflection, Holly slipped her arm around her aunt’s waist.
“Are you mad at me?” her niece asked.
“Never,” Milly replied.
“Disappointed?”
“Ask me after the shock wears off.”
Holly let out a little laugh, then her face grew serious. “Do you believe that things happen for a reason? Or is life just a random series of events that we have no control over?”
“Everything on this earth happens for a reason,” Milly said. “It is the nature of the order of the universe, whose mysteries we are forever trying to fathom.”
“I agree. Everything
does
happen for a reason. There is a reason why the Order of Astrum sent someone to kill us, and why Madame Marie and her husband have died. There’s also a reason why Peter is discovering the true extent of his psychic powers at precisely the same time. And there’s a reason why Peter told me he loved me. These things are connected.”
“But how? What is the link?”
“If I knew that, I’d be the smartest person in the world.” Holly gave her aunt a squeeze. “What I do know is, we must let the good things happen, and make sure the bad things don’t happen. You told me that when I discovered I was a witch, and I’ve always believed it.”
“And you think your being in love with Peter is a good thing,” Milly said.
“How could it not be?”
Her niece had never been in love. If she had, she would have known how destructive a force it could be. Milly would have given anything to be so young and naïve again.
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Milly said.
22
Peter told Liza everything.
He took her to Sojourn on East 79th Street, whose interior was filled with warm oak and red tones, and sat at a corner table where they split a carafe of the house Chablis. In a subdued voice, he explained how as a boy he’d gotten a surprise visit by Hecate, spirit of magic, who’d come to his family’s apartment in response to a séance being held by his parents, but ended up in his bedroom instead. Hecate had been talking to him ever since, along with a variety of other spirits and ghosts. Their waiter delivered a plate of roasted figs and prosciutto to the table.
“You’re going to have to bear with me for a minute here,” Liza said when the waiter was gone. “What exactly was a ghost doing in your bedroom?”
“I think her GPS was broken.”
“Come on, be serious. I’m having a hard time grasping this.”
“She mistook my bedroom for my father’s study, which was down the hall,” he explained. “She hovered over my bed, and woke me up, and we ended up having a conversation.”
“You weren’t afraid?”
“I’d been seeing ghosts since I was little. Late at night they’d come into my bedroom, and make a nuisance of themselves. There’s nothing scary about them.”
“I’m finding this hard to believe.”
“It’s true. You have to understand the spirit world, and the beings that inhabit it.”
“Since I don’t, why don’t you explain it to me?”
He paused to gather his thoughts. It was hard to explain a place that Liza had never seen, let alone imagined, and he chose his words carefully. “There are two worlds. The physical world which we inhabit, and the spirit world which spirits, ghosts, and castaway angels inhabit. At one time, the inhabitants of the spirit world were human, and as a result, are just as flawed as humans are. They make mistakes and get lost, and sometimes do really stupid things. In that regard, they’re no different than we are.”
“What’s a castaway angel?”
“A demon.”
“Oh. Do you ever speak with them?”
“No. They’re dangerous, and in league with the Devil.”
“So you’re telling me there really is a Devil.”
“Of course. He’s responsible for just about every bad thing in the world.”
Liza was having a difficult time believing him. She ate a fig while staring into his eyes. “Okay, so how did your parents summon this ghost to their apartment? E-mail?”
“They used symbols, which they placed around my father’s study before the séance began. Specific symbols call specific spirits. The symbol for Hecate is three moons. One is waxing, one is full, and the third is waning.”
“Do all psychics talk with the spirits?”
“No. Most just glimpse into the future, and try to interpret what they see.”
“But you do talk to them. What makes you different?”
“My charming personality.”
“Seriously, Peter.”
“I wish I knew. My mother was a channeler; so maybe I inherited it from her.”
“What’s a channeler?”
“It’s a medium whose body is actually inhabited by a spirit during a séance. The channeler is under the spirit’s influence while inhabited. The spirit will often send the channeler back and forth in time to witness things.”
“You’ve done this?”
“Many times.”
“Tell me what’s it like.”
“It’s not as much fun as it sounds. The only thing I can compare it to is an out-of-control roller-coaster ride. I’m exhausted when the séance is over.”
“What do the spirits try to tell you?”
“The spirits care deeply about the physical world, and want to save it from the Devil, who’s intent on destroying it. Usually, the spirits reveal disasters that haven’t happened yet, in the hopes of stopping them from occurring.”
Liza speared another fig and offered him a bite. “Can you actually change the future?”
“Yes. That’s the psychic’s greatest power. It’s what makes it worthwhile. No thanks.”
“Do you channel when we’re at home?”
Peter picked up his glass of wine and took a healthy sip. He’d not been looking forward to this part of their conversation. Liza wasn’t going to like his answer. “No. Never at home.”
“Then where?”
“I channel during a weekly séance with six other psychics. We meet on Friday nights at an apartment on the West Side where one of them lives.”
A hurt look spread across his girlfriend’s face. “Hold on a minute. You told me you were getting together with some magic buddies at a restaurant, and trading tricks. That isn’t true?”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s no restaurant where magicians meet?”
“There is. I just don’t go there.”
“So you’ve been lying to me all this time.”
He put down his wineglass and nodded. Her eyes had not left his face.
“That’s so wrong,” she said.
“Everyone in the group is sworn to secrecy. It’s part of being a psychic.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Her voice was trembling. Peter had to do something, and he pulled up a photo of the Friday night group on his cell phone, and showed her. It had been taken in Milly’s living room before one of the séances. Liza studied the group and zeroed in on Holly. “Who’s
she
?”
“Holly Adams. I’ve known her since she was an infant. She’s a witch.”
“Oh really. And I suppose there are vampires in your little group too?”
“Vampires don’t exist anymore. There were a few in Arizona, but they got wiped out.”
“Seriously?”
“Everything I’m telling you is true. Please believe me.”
She pointed at Holly. “Should I be afraid?”
Nothing like getting everything on the table,
Peter thought. He loved Holly, and he loved Liza, but he loved Liza differently, and he didn’t see that ever changing.
“No,” he said.
She handed him back the cell phone. “Here’s something I don’t understand. Why did you become a magician if you already had these amazing powers? I mean, why do fake magic when you can do real magic? What’s the point?”
“It was an accident. After my parents died, I lived with Milly Adams. One day, Milly got a call from a teacher at my school. My teacher wanted to know how I could be calling out answers to questions before she asked them. Milly panicked, and told my teacher it was a trick, and that I was a budding magician. My teacher thought that was great, and asked if I’d do a show for the class. Milly was stuck, so she called Max Romeo, a magician from our group, and asked him to teach me. I became Max’s student, and fell in love with magic. I guess you could say it became my cover.”
“That’s sort of ironic.”
“I know.”
They ate the rest of the figs and the prosciutto in silence. When the plate was clean, Liza leaned forward, and dropped her voice. “Now, it’s my turn.”
“You have something you want to tell me?”
“Yes, and it isn’t good. I read something on the FBI’s Web site that you should know. Your parents were part of group of psychic children in a small English town in the 1940s that helped beat the Nazis, and win the war.”
“Really? That’s incredible.”
“Here’s the bad part. They called themselves the Order of Astrum.”
Peter felt the blood drain from his head. He stammered as he spoke. “That’s not possible. The Order of Astrum practices dark magic, and are cold-blooded murderers.”
“They weren’t always that way,” Liza explained. “In the late 1980s they started hiring themselves out, and your parents fled to New York because of it. The Order tracked them down, and did away with them. The Order has been doing bad things ever since.”