by James Swain
Peter swallowed hard. “What happened then?”
“That, as my generation used to say, is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Your mother said they should have died. None of them could swim, nor were they wearing anything that would have helped them float. They should have died, and that would have been the end of their short, uneventful lives. Those were the exact words that your mother used when she told me the story. Only the children of Marble didn’t die. Something happened in the depths of that pond which forever changed them. They floated to the surface, and climbed out through the holes in the ice, and hurried back to the village.”
“How did they climb out if they couldn’t swim?”
“Your mother never explained that part.”
“You must have some theory.”
Milly shrugged and did not reply. Peter felt himself growing frustrated.
“Did they know they were psychic at that point?” he asked.
“That is a question I asked your mother,” Milly said. “She told me that it happened a short while later. Your father was pillaging the attic in his house when he found a chest that had belonged to his great-grandparents. The chest contained a talking board carved out of old wood with a matching planchette.”
“You mean a Ouija board?” Peter asked.
“A Ouija board is a game for children and drunk adults,” Milly said. “A talking board is used when speaking with the dead. The talking board in the attic of your father’s house was such a device. It had been carved from a single piece of wood, and contained the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, the numbers one through ten, and the arching sweep of a crescent moon with a black cat sitting within the moon and wearing a pentacle pendant around its neck. The cat bore a striking resemblance to the cat that had drawn the children to the pond, hence your father’s interest in it.
“Your father took the talking board from the attic, and went down the street to where your mother lived. He showed it to her, and she agreed that the cat on the board matched the cat they’d seen. She suggested they play a game with the board, and ask it a question. They sat at the kitchen table, placed their hands on the planchette, and asked the board if it was sunny or cloudy outside. To their surprise, the planchette raced across the board under its own power, and answered them. That was the beginning of the séances. Later, they invited their other three friends to join them.”
Peter stared into space. For some reason, he’d always assumed that his mother and father had been born psychic, just as he had, and never considered that something might have happened during their childhoods which made them this way. It put a spin on things which he did not completely understand.
“How did they become the Order of Astrum?” he asked.
“I asked your mother that very question,” Milly replied. “She said it was your father’s idea. Your father felt they needed a name for their little group. He had read a story about Aleister Crowley, who had practiced dark magic during the turn of the century. Crowley called his group Argentium Astrum, which in Latin means silver star. Your father thought this was just splendid, so he named their group the Order of Astrum.”
“So it was all a game.”
Milly leaned into him. “Yes! Your parents never meant for it to be anything more than that. The horrible things came later, when the children grew up.”
“Do you know why?”
“Money.” She let out a deep breath, and seemed suddenly fatigued. “The other three were all failures at the work they did. They banded together, and decided to use their powers for financial gain. Your parents were against it, and left England and came to New York.”
“Is that why my parents were killed? Because they wouldn’t play along?”
“That was always my assumption.” Milly rose from the couch, signaling that she was done. “It’s been a long night. I need to get my rest.”
Peter rose as well. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents had sworn Milly to secrecy, and breaking that vow had not been easy for her. He put his arms around her, and rested his chin on her head. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, my dear boy,” she said.
27
It had grown late, and Milly was tired. She bid Peter goodnight and headed off to bed. Peter passed through the living room on his way out. He sensed the presence of a third person.
“Holly?”
He saw an indentation in the cushion of a love seat. Had Holly been sitting in the living room, waiting for him? If so, then why had she left? He wanted to speak with her, and headed down the hallway to the kitchen, where he pushed in the swinging door.
Holly sat at the round kitchen table with a sullen look on her face. On the table was a plate of her aunt’s homemade chocolate cookies.
“Still mad at me?” he asked.
“What do you think.” She sulked.
They had never fought well, even as kids. He grabbed a quart of skim milk out of the fridge and retrieved from the cupboard two glasses, which he placed on the table before pulling up a chair. Holly eyed him sullenly as he filled the glasses to the brim and slid one toward her.
“Who said I wanted a glass of milk?”
“I did.”
“But I don’t.”
“You always drink milk with your cookies.”
“Stop treating me like a child. I hate when you do that.”
“Pardon, madame.”
Peter picked up his glass and made an imaginary toast. When he put it down, his lip was covered in a white moustache. Holly forced herself not to smile, and looked away. He bit into a cookie and made an mmmm sound. She couldn’t help herself, and was soon eating one as well. The unhappy look would not leave her face.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you in the elevator,” he said. “I was out of line.”
“You were mean. And ugly. I didn’t like it.”
“I was out of my mind with worry. When I saw Wolfe come after you and your aunt, I lost it.”
“Did you have to take your anger out on me?”
“You were the closest target.”
“That’s no excuse, Peter.”
He was not going to win this argument, so he just finished his cookie. He glanced at Holly out of the corner of his eye, hoping her anger would fade. She still looked furious.
“I want you to explain something to me,” she said after an excruciatingly long minute had passed. “How can you tell me that you have feelings for me, and then treat me so rudely a few hours later? How does that work?”
“You know what they say. You always hurt the one you love,” he said.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“It’s a song by the Mills Brothers. ‘You always hurt the one you love, the one you shouldn’t hurt at all.’ Never heard of it? Well, it’s true, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“That moustache on your lip looks ridiculous.”
Peter found a towel and cleaned his face. The conversation had turned awkward. He’d spent a lot of time with Holly growing up, less so as an adult. She seemed a different person than the one he’d known as a kid. Had he a few hours to spare, he might have been able to get to the bottom of what was bothering her, only he needed to call Liza, and hear how his fan club had reacted to his bolting from the show. Hopefully, she had kept the damages to a minimum.
“I need to go,” he said. “When this is over, and Wolfe is caught, I want to take you out to lunch. We need to talk.”
“I’ll have to check my calendar.”
“Please say yes.”
“Can I pick the restaurant?”
“Of course you can.”
She met his gaze for the first time. “All right, yes.”
“Thank you. Good night.” He rose from his chair and went to the door.
“I want to help,” Holly said out of the blue.
The words caught him by surprise. He turned around slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to help yo
u catch Wolfe,” she said. “I have powers, too. We could work together, and track him down. Two heads are better than one.”
Holly still didn’t get it. Wolfe was a monster, and so were the men who employed him. The best way to deal with monsters was to stay away from them.
“Do you really want to help me?” he asked.
Her face lit up. “Yes!”
“Good. Convince your aunt to stay indoors until we find him. Also, go find Reggie, and convince him to stay inside as well. Something tells me Reggie is still wandering around Central Park at all hours, conversing with the statues.”
“Damn it, that’s not what I meant! I want to help you. We could be a team.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She made another of her faces. He had seen people run away from her when she made faces, they were that powerful. He held his ground without flinching.
“Why not?” she seethed.
“Because you could get hurt, that’s why.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
“Well, I’m not. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
“When did this just become about you? Wolfe’s trying to kill all of us.”
“Let me deal with him. I have a bead on him. I see signs before he’s going to strike, and can react to what he’s doing.”
“What are you saying? That I’ll only slow you down?”
She had taken the words right out of his mouth. He gave her a tired smile.
“Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow first thing.”
“Go to hell, Peter.”
* * *
He waited until he was outside before turning on his cell phone. It was still raining, and a howling wind was blowing down Central Park West. He called Liza, and got voice mail. He didn’t leave a message, hoping his girlfriend wasn’t still angry with him. He tried the number at the brownstone. Still no answer.
A cab pulled up, and the driver looked at him through the windshield. Peter hopped into the back, and gave the driver his address. Soon they were driving toward the east side of town. Then he called Snoop. His assistant sounded more than a little upset when he answered.
“Peter—where the heck have you been? You had me worried, man,” Snoop said.
“Sorry. I’ve had my hands full. What happened after I left?”
“Well, I’ve got good news, and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
Peter braced himself. “I could use some good news. Give me that first.”
“Sure enough. Liza saved the day after you split. She walked onto the stage, and told the audience that you’d been battling the flu, and could no longer continue. She made it sound like you’d dragged yourself from your deathbed to do the show. She was awesome.”
“My fan club didn’t revolt?”
“On the contrary. They totally understood, and gave you a standing ovation. Liza rescheduled the date for the end of next month. Everyone left happy.”
“Whew. That’s great.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“So, what’s the bad news?”
“You sitting down?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Liza quit.”
Peter brought his hand up to his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wouldn’t kid you about something like that. She came up to me after we closed the theater, and said she was leaving the show. She’s giving you two weeks’ notice so you can hire another assistant, and train her. I tried to talk her out of it, and she shut me down. Did you two have World War III or something? She was totally pissed.”
“She’s mad at me. I didn’t realize she was that mad.”
“Mad is an understatement. You need to talk to her, man.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“She went back to your place. I think she’s packing her things.”
Peter cupped his hand over the phone, and addressed the driver. “Can you go any faster? I’ll double the fare.” The cab sped up, and he lowered his hand. “Did she say anything else?”
“I asked her if you two guys were done,” Snoop said.
“And?”
“She turned away and started crying.”
“Thanks, Snoop. I’ll call you later.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
Peter folded the phone, wondering if he could still get Liza back. They’d had fights before, but never anything like this. The cab entered Central Park, and began to race down the twisting roads. He stared out the window, wishing he could turn his life back forty-eight hours, and erase everything that had happened. What a trick that would be, he thought.
* * *
Liza was in the living room when he entered the brownstone.
“Are your friends all right?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Yes. I got to them in time,” he replied.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“Who told you I was leaving?”
“Snoop did. Say it isn’t so. Please.”
“My mind’s made up. If you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something.”
Taking out her cell phone, Liza snapped a photo of a stuffed panda named Butch that sat on the mantel over the fireplace. Butch could find playing cards, blow perfect smoke rings, and tell the future by banging on a drum. It was all a trick, courtesy of some amazing radio-controlled devices, but Liza had fallen in love with the little guy anyway. She hoisted her suitcase off the floor, and headed for the door, brushing past him. He wondered how he’d managed to ruin two relationships in one day.
“At least give me a second chance. I deserve that, don’t I?”
The suitcase fell from her hand. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave him a soulful stare. “Tell me something. How can someone who can read people’s minds be so clueless about their feelings?”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“But you are. You ran out on those kids. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I had to save my friends.”
“You couldn’t have called the police? Come on, Peter, when did you turn into a superhero?”
“I’m not a superhero.”
“You’re sure acting like one. Anytime you think something bad is going to happen, you go flying out the door without caring about the people you leave behind.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
“But it’s true. Look, this will be over soon, and things will go back to normal.”
“Things will never be back to normal,” she said, sounding ready to cry. “You’re not the person I thought you were. Let me rephrase that. Half of you is the person I thought I knew; the other half is a strange dude with psychic powers who’s been leading a secret life none of his friends knew about. That’s the guy I’m having a problem with.”
“I didn’t want to keep secrets from you.”
“But you did. And you’re still doing it. I don’t know who you are.”
“I haven’t changed that much, have I?”
“Yes, you have. You act like someone possessed.”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is. You’re changing, and I don’t know why. Do you?”
He thought back to what Milly had told him. His parents had fallen into a lake with three of their little friends, and been miraculously saved by a spirit from the other side. But had it been a good spirit, or a bad spirit? His parents had changed the course of a war, yet had also been founding members of a murderous cult. He had no way of knowing what type of spirit had guided them. And if he didn’t know what spirit had guided his parents, he couldn’t know which spirit was guiding him. Liza wasn’t the only one who was confused.
“No,” he said quietly.
“No what?” she said, sounding exasperated.
“No, I don’t know why I’m changing. But I’m going to find out.”
“Well, send me a postcard.”
“You’re not going to give me another chance?”
“You’ve run out of those.”
He followed her out of the brownstone. The rain was coming down so hard that it made it difficult to see. At the corner she waved frantically for a cab. It was as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
“I’ll do anything you want,” he shouted over the storm.
She spun around. “Anything?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yeah. Just name it.”
“Stop doing these crazy séances, and come back to the real world.”
“I can’t do that. It’s who I am.”
“Then good-bye.”
A cab braked at the curb, splashing them both. Liza rammed her suitcase into the backseat, hopped in, and slammed the door. Kneeling down, he gazed at her through the window. He mouthed the words Please don’t go. She shook her head.
The cab sped away. He walked back to his empty brownstone, wondering if his heart might break. Liza had made him feel whole. Without her, he was nothing.
He looked to the sky. Was this his reward for doing the right thing? It hardly seemed fair, and he let out a frightening yell.
“God damn it!”
A car alarm pierced the air. It was quickly followed by another car alarm, and then another. Within seconds, every vehicle parked on the street was blaring.
He looked up and down the street in fear. His powers had made those alarms go off. He concentrated, and tried to turn them off.
Nothing doing.
He hurried inside his brownstone before his neighbors came out, and saw what he’d done.
28
Lying in bed that night, Peter stared at the side of the bed where Liza normally slept. Her leaving hadn’t seemed real a few hours ago. Now it did, and the pain was tearing a hole in his heart.
He rolled onto his back and gazed at the plaster ceiling. Tomorrow was Monday, and the theater was dark. Normally, he and Liza would sleep in, and spend the afternoon plundering an uncharted area of the city. New York had hundreds of neighborhoods, thousands of shops, and even more restaurants, and they’d tried to visit them all.
