Dark Magic (32 page)

He walked another block to Dyer Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen before calling Holly. Voice mail picked up, and he left a message. As he ended the call, a black Lincoln pulled onto Dyer from 35th Street, and flashed its brights at him. His instincts told him it was Garrison, and he was proven right as the Lincoln’s tires rubbed the curb, and the passenger window lowered.

“Need a lift?” Garrison called to him.

Peter hopped in. Garrison did a U-turn, and got on 34th, this time heading east.

“Thanks for the save,” Peter said. “How are my friends doing?”

“The older lady took a whack to the head,” Garrison said. “They rushed her to the hospital, and are treating her right now. I’m assuming that’s where you want to go.”

“You assumed right. Which hospital?”

“Roosevelt.”

Peter felt himself shudder. They had taken Milly to the same hospital where Reggie had died. It was as bad an omen as he could ask for.

“How did it go with Morningstar?” Garrison asked.

“I survived,” Peter replied. “I didn’t realize the CIA was so intent on finding me.”

“I told the CIA enough about you for them to get excited,” Garrison said. “In hindsight, that was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Morningstar would have taken me away to some secret location, wouldn’t he?”

“Probably.”

“And I never would have seen my friends again.”

“Yeah,” Garrison said under his breath.

“Do you mind my asking you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you lie to him? You’re going to get in trouble if it comes out who I really am.”

“Yes, I will. Might even lose my job.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Garrison glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he sped north on Eighth Avenue. Peter’s life had turned into a cloak-and-dagger novel, and he needed to know who his friends were. Finally, Garrison replied.

“Like I told you the other day, you’re my secret weapon.”

“You’re not going to share me with other government agencies?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Help. Not all the time, just when I’m stumped.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s one other thing.”

Peter braced himself for the worst. “What’s that?”

“You and your friends have been sending notes to the FBI whenever you see something bad during your séances,” Garrison said. “From now on, I want you to contact me directly. It will be quicker, and you can save yourself the postage.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

Peter felt the air trapped in his lungs escape. He’d be more than happy to help Garrison if his life would return to normal and his friends were spared.

“You’ve got a deal,” he said.

“Beautiful,” the FBI agent replied.

A few blocks from the hospital, Peter’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Caller ID said
HOLLY
. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he answered her call.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At the hospital with my aunt.”

“Is she all right?”

“No.”

“Where’s Max?”

“He’s here with me. We’re so scared.”

Peter placed the cell phone against his chest. “Can you go any faster?”

Garrison hit the gas, and the car’s wheels momentarily left the ground.

“I’m on my way,” he said into the phone.

43

Holly was standing in the ICU as Peter came out of the elevator. Her cheeks were red and puffy from crying. Seeing him, she put her brave face on.

“Hi,” she said.

Peter hugged her. “I got here as fast as I could. How’s your aunt doing?”

“Oh, God, Peter, I’m so worried. She keeps slipping in and out of consciousness. One minute she’s here, the next she’s not. When she’s awake, she babbles and doesn’t make much sense. The doctor said she took a bad blow, and might have some permanent memory loss, and maybe some other side effects as well. He said the next few hours were critical.”

“How are
you
doing?”

“I’m okay.”

Holly didn’t sound okay. Peter put his hands on her shoulders, and studied her eyes. Her anger was bubbling just below the surface, ready to erupt. An angry witch was a force to be reckoned with, as Holly had demonstrated at her aunt’s apartment.

“Why don’t you go back to the apartment, and get some rest,” he suggested. “You’ve had a hard day, and need to take it easy.”

Her eyes flamed. “No.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“I’m not deserting her.”

Peter looked around the ICU to make sure no one was listening. “All right, but don’t let your anger get out of control. Please.”

“Look who’s talking,” she said.

“Peter!”
Milly called from inside the room.

“She’s awake,” Holly said in a hushed voice.

“Peter, is that you I hear in the hallway, conspiring with my niece?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Peter called into the room.

“Come here at once, young man. I wish to speak with you.”

“She certainly sounds normal,” Peter said.

Holly wiped away a tear. “Maybe she’s coming out of it. Let’s hope so.”

“Where’s Max, anyway?”

“He went to get a hot drink from the cafeteria for my aunt.”

“Peter?”

“Coming.”

“Go slow with her,” Holly said quietly.

Peter slipped into room. Milly sat in a reclining position in bed, looking small and frail. A pillow was propped behind her head, while several tubes ran out of her arm to a gathering of beeping machines beside her bed. Her face sported a mosaic of bruises that would have seemed noble on a boxer or football player, but looked sickening on a seventy-year-old woman.

“There you are,” she said.

He kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been ground through a cement truck. You know what they say. All’s well that ends well. And how are you, my dear boy?”

“I’m fine, Milly.”

“Holly said that a government agent took you away.”

“It worked out okay. We’re in the clear.”

“Leave it to you to make things right. It appears we have company.”

Max came through the doorway holding a brown paper bag. He tore away the paper to reveal a large foam cup with a plastic lid. “Your drink, my lady.”

Milly took the cup. She pulled back the lid and frowned. “It’s empty, Max.”

“Are you sure?” Max exclaimed.

“Yes. There’s nothing in it.”

“It must have vanished during the elevator ride up.”

“More likely you drank it.”

“Me? Perish the thought.”

“If it vanished, then make it reappear.”

“Your wish is my command.” Max waved his hand magically over the empty cup. “Like a ghost passing through the wall of an Irish castle, I command your drink to reappear. One, two, three! Why, look what we have here—your cup of decaf.”

The cup had filled itself with the steaming drink. Milly sipped it appreciatively. It seemed to lift her spirts, and the color returned to her face.

“How did you do that?” she asked him.

“Can you keep a secret?” Max asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“So can I.”

“How did he do that?” she asked Peter.

“I haven’t a clue. He fooled me completely,” Peter replied.

Max beamed at the compliment. Like all great magicians, he guarded his secrets like the crown jewels, and it would be a long time before Peter would be able to pry this particular trick out of him. Then, Peter had an awful thought. If Max were to die, he’d never know how the trick worked. The secret would die with him, along with all the other secrets that he possessed.

The thought gave him pause. Max had been present the night his mother had turned into a monster, and so had Milly. They’d seen the transformation, and understood its terrible meaning. The other people who’d been there—his father, Madame Marie, and Reggie—were gone. Lester Rowe had been there, but he was now thousands of miles away, and might never return.

Max and Milly were the only ones left who knew the secret of his parents’ supernatural powers. Peter could wait for a better time to talk to them about it, but if he’d learned anything over the past few days, waiting was dangerous.

“I need to have a talk with you and Max,” Peter said.

“This sounds serious,” Milly said.

“It is.”

“What do you say, Max?” Milly asked.

Max looked away, saying nothing.

“I’ll take that as a reluctant yes,” Milly said. “The floor is yours, Peter.”

“Thank you. I have a demon inside of me, which I inherited from my parents, who had the same demon inside of them,” he said, the words spilling out. “Both of you sheltered me from this demon when I was growing up, fearful of the harm I might cause. You tried to keep me from fighting with other kids because you worried I might hurt them.”

“That’s utter nonsense,” Milly scolded him. “You had a nasty little temper when you were a boy, and were getting into scrapes with other children. We tried to curb it, just like any intelligent adults would do. Didn’t we, Max?”

“He did have a temper,” Max mumbled.

“Which he eventually outgrew as he became a man,” Milly said.

“That he did,” Max said.

“So you see, Peter, this is all in your head,” Milly concluded. “If you’d had a demon inside of you, we would have had you exorcized, like that poor little girl in the movie. Only you didn’t, so there was no need. Right, Max?”

“Right,” Max said, laughing under his breath.

The hospital room fell silent, save for the incessant beeping of the machines. Peter might have been angry with Max and Milly, had he not loved them so much. He supposed that in their eyes he was still a child, and always would be. But that didn’t change his desire to know who he was. If anything, it only made it stronger.

“I saw the demon in the film of my mother,” he said quietly.

They both looked startled.

“What film?” Milly blurted out.

“The one taken during a séance many years ago at their apartment,” Peter replied. “I found it in Lester Rowe’s place.”

Milly brought her hand to her mouth. “Lester filmed that?”

“Yes,” he said. “And both of you were present.”

“He knows,” Max said under his breath.

A single tear ran down Milly’s cheek. Max plucked a hanky out of thin air, and handed it to her. Wiping her eye, she said, “I seem to vaguely recall the incident.”

“Tell me about it,” Peter said.

“Max, you do it,” Milly said.

Max moved closer to the bed, and dropped his voice. “Your mother never spoke about what happened that night, but your father did. We met in a pub for a drink, and ended up closing the place down. Your father told me that he and your mother had made a pact with a demon when they were children, and that it was this demon that had manifested during our séance, and taken over your mother’s body. I asked your father if the demon had ever taken over
his
body. Your father said that it had, but only when he lost his temper. This was why your parents tried to avoid having arguments, for fear of bringing the demon on.”

“And that’s why you didn’t want me fighting,” Peter said.

“That is correct. I’m afraid the demon is in you as well.”

“What is the demon’s name?”

Max hesitated. “I told your father I would take this to my grave.”

“I have a right to know who I am.”

Max glanced at Milly in the bed. She nodded imperceptibly.

“The demon is one of Lucifer’s sons,” his teacher said.

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Max grabbed the room’s only chair, and made him sit in it. Peter did. Leaning forward, he ran the fingers of his hands through his hair. Since the beginning of time, Lucifer’s presence in the world had been a dark one. To do his bidding, he’d created seven demonic sons, whom he’d sprinkled around the planet. For thousands of years, these sons had vied to see who could cause more grief and destruction, and were responsible for many of mankind’s atrocities. Their names were known to all in the spirit world, and they were the epitome of evil. Peter had never encountered one of these sons, and now shuddered to realize that he in effect
was
one.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked.

“Your father never said,” Max replied.

“He must have described him.”

“In a manner of speaking. He called him the wicked one.”

“How charming.”

Peter rose and went to the room’s solitary window. Cold air blew through the cracks, and slapped him in the face. “I don’t understand. My parents helped the Americans and the British defeat the Nazis, and win the war. How was that possible, considering what you just told me?”

“They were children,” Milly explained.

“So?”

“All children are born good. The corruption comes later, as they grow up.”

“Are you saying that even this demon couldn’t poison a child?”

“Children are pure,” Milly said. “Your parents, and their three little friends, could not be corrupted by this demon until later on in life.”

“But my parents weren’t corrupted.” He turned from the window to look at them. “They were wonderful people. Weren’t they?”

“He doesn’t understand,” Milly said to Max.

“We’re not doing a very good job explaining it to him,” Max replied.

“Explaining what? What are you leaving out?” Peter said, exasperated.

“Come to me,” Milly said.

Peter returned to her bedside. Milly took his hands, and held them tightly. “Yes, they were wonderful people. And so are you. Do you know why?”

“No,” he said.

“It’s simple, my dear child. It’s called free will. The fact that you are possessed by a demon does not mean you must become evil. Being evil is a choice, just as being good is a choice. If you let the demon take over, it’s because you choose to.”

“You’re telling me that if I control my emotions, the demon won’t come out.”

“That’s right.”

What Milly was asking was absurd. How could he not grow angry every once in a while? There were times when a person
had
to get angry.