The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

The entire carousel was lovingly taken apart by experts who restored the scratched paint and broken lights. Through private funds, it was brought back and maintained at its original splendor.

  During the day, it was awash with the laughter of children and families. At night, overhead garage doors on four sides were rolled down and locked solidly in place, which transformed it into another unnoticed brick outbuilding.

  However, this night, with the moon waxing and almost full, it shimmered like an apparition.

  It’s like a house built by fairies, Eddie thought.

  He was a bit fed up the way his mind kept turning toward the supernatural. A few days ago, he didn’t think of the metaphysical at all, and certainly not of fairies. It probably wouldn’t be long before he’d meet one.

  After all, he’d met a vampire.

  He stayed in the shadows and moved silently behind a large boulder held in position by metal staves that flanked the carousel’s west side. He looked around to see the best place to attack—or retreat, if that was necessary.

  There wasn’t a lot of cover at the front of the carousel, and nothing but open fields with bushes to the south. On its north face, a grove of trees banked a protective fence to the 65th Street transverse road, and shielded parkgoers from a sickening fall onto that roadway.

  Eddie didn’t like this location.

  If Abraxas was being helped by a warlock, they could strike and then use the grove of trees to flee anywhere on the entire planet.

  Eddie sat behind the stationary boulder and tried to get into a position where he could observe the front of the carousel as well as the trees.

  Unknown to Eddie, and as silent as an army tank in low gear, Luis Vasquez crept, or rather crunched his way to his own hiding place, a large tree. He pulled out his binoculars to observe Eddie.

  Time passed, slowly.

  Eddie was growing bored when he saw a quick movement in the dark.

  Close to him; too close.

  Eddie ducked down, quietly and smoothly pulling his service weapon from its shoulder holster.

  Something leapt to the top of the rock, and Eddie, as his heart raced, lifted his gun, his jaw clamped tight.

  Over his head, on its hind legs, a large gray squirrel stood and looked down at him.

  “Jesus,” Eddie whispered. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  He holstered his weapon. The furry creature stayed stock-still and watched him. After a moment, it made a chittering noise.

  “Get lost,” Eddie murmured hoarsely, surprised that the rodent made noises. “I’m busy. Scat.”

  The small creature cocked his head, and looked at Eddie with is beady eyes. It chittered, then added clicking sounds.

  “You want to blow my cover?” Eddie said. “I don’t speak squirrel. No habla squirrel. Go!”

  The squirrel stomped one of its back legs in annoyance, and as suddenly as he appeared, leapt off the top of the rock and vanished into the dark.

  “Great,” Eddie muttered. “I even got the squirrels pissed at me.”

  Then another movement caught Eddie’s eye. He saw a man in a dark suit duck behind an impressive bush about one hundred feet away. A moment later, another man, wearing black, moved into another clump of bushes opposite the first arrival. This man was wearing a turtleneck and had a bulletproof vest, a belt with his weapon and accoutrements and a head covering that only showed his eyes.

  Even dressed in that way, Eddie knew him at once: Wilcox.

  The way he moved was unmistakable, and his gear looked like it came out of an FBI catalogue.

  Cuccolo’s men were there, hidden from the buyer. The FBI was there, hidden from the gangsters.

  Here was Eddie, concealed from them all.

  He’d always done things by the book. How did he end up in this situation? If something went wrong, more people could be killed by crossfire than by Abraxas.

  Nearby, Luis watched the new arrivals through his binoculars, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Eddie saw a figure stroll down the concrete path from the orange and yellow Playmate Arch in the moonlight.

  Cuccolo.

  He was wearing a light-gray suit and a red silk shirt, easy to spot. He had his hands in the pockets of his coat and behaved like a man without a care in the world.

  Eddie noticed he didn’t carry anything. He’d agreed not to bring the talisman, but there were bulges in his jacket that suggested something in his pockets. Perhaps the gun he had mentioned?

  Cuccolo strutted to the shuttered carousel, checked his watch, surveyed the open field opposite, and sat at one of the many black, steel-mesh tables bolted to the ground. He didn’t look anxious, but being out there in the open probably was tough on his nerves.

  Eddie glanced over at the dark shapes hidden in the trees.

  Cuccolo pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Waiting was something he seldom did.

  There was the sound of movement in the underbrush.

  Cuccolo turned left and right, his hand going into his jacket.

  “Hello?” Cuccolo said.

  Something short and squat crawled out of the woods next to the transverse road.

  Eddie stared at the shadowy figure. At first he thought it was the annoying squirrel, but then decided it was far too large. It moved in an odd way, waddled in that peculiar undulating movement of a ferret.

  The shape lumbered into a better view in the moonlight. It was a large rodent, with a flat tail.

  A beaver!

  As it drew closer to Cuccolo, Eddie could see it was the largest beaver he could imagine. It was the size of a large dog, and it was a shiny crimson, as if drenched in blood.

  Eddie stared at it. Could that be Abraxas?

  Cuccolo stood and stepped back. The creature was undergoing a metamorphosis as it slunk forward, its tail growing smaller and its legs longer until it resembled a dog-like creature.

  Cuccolo pulled out his pistol.

  The thing on the ground rose up on its back legs, and held up its front paws in a posture of supplication.

  “You wouldn’t want to shoot me, would you?” the thing said, the muzzle moved as it spoke. “Not when we have a deal?”

  Eddie heard the makeshift monster speak in a deep, grating voice that sent goose bumps down his back.

  “Oh Jeez,” Cuccolo said, and licked his lips. “Are you…Lox?”

  The thing before him bowed like an actor who has been recognized. “I am indeed, servant of Malsum.”

  Cuccolo lowered the handgun, as he stared at the odd red animal. It took a tentative step forward and began to change again. It grew taller, the back straightened, and the hair on its head grew long, filled out, and became a thousand feathers falling from a large headdress.

  It was now at least ten feet tall, and naked except for a loincloth, moccasins, and a magnificent war bonnet, which tumbled down his back to his knees. The man’s skin was the same shade of red as the animal, and he raised a hand in greeting.

  Eddie wondered why Cuccolo’s men didn’t shoot at this giant Native American that towered over their boss.

  “Malsum! You are Malsum! Oh God, it’s all true!” Cuccolo moaned, stepped back and glanced to the left and right for help.

  “Give me what is mine!” the giant boomed, as it held out his hand.

  Cuccolo was too stunned to raise the pistol. With his free hand, he reached slowly for the pocket of his jacket.

  Eddie knew that if the demon got a hold of another talisman, a blood sacrifice would soon follow.

  “Police!” Eddie yelled, whipped out his gun and shield as he ran toward them.

  Both Cuccolo and the giant turned to Eddie with equally stunned expressions.

  “Cuccolo, step away!” Eddie yelled, his shield held high in one hand, and his service weapon in the other.

  Eddie’s sudden appearance made Cuccolo regain some of his self-control. He raised his own pistol.

  “So,” the giant chuckled. “We meet face to face, Newling.”

&nb
sp; Eddie slipped his shield into his pocket and grabbed the gun in both hands to assume a shooter’s stance. “Hands in the air.”

  “Your command of the language is succinct,” the figure making the last word sound like it was something that tasted bad.

  In one quick move, the huge red-skinned man grabbed Cuccolo’s arm, and forced the gun he held skyward just as Cuccolo fired. Then he lifted Cuccolo and held him in front of his massive body as a shield.

  From Luis’s point of view it was an entirely different event. He’d seen Cuccolo talk to empty space, and then Eddie ran up with his gun drawn. Now, he saw Cuccolo gyrate, raise his arm, fire a shot, as he was lifted off the ground to hang suspended in midair.

  Luis pulled the binoculars from his eyes, blinked twice, and stared up at the front of the carousel. There stood Eddie, as Alfonso Cuccolo floated in the air as if he’d joined a traveling magic show.

  Luis leapt up and pulled out his own gun, and ran toward Eddie. He had no idea what was going on, but his place was at his partner’s side.

  From where Eddie stood, the Indian reached into Cuccolo’s pocket and extracted a small box. Even in the moonlight, Eddie could see it was carved and encrusted with topaz and silver.

  “Oh crap,” Eddie muttered, then yelled. “I told you not to bring that!”

  “Many thanks,” the creature announced to Cuccolo. “But I am not done with you yet.”

  He put the man under one of his massive arms, turned, and walked off. Eddie fired right at the huge feathered headdress. Not a feather moved, but the bullet ricocheted off the brick facing of the carousel building.

  Eddie’s mouth fell open.

  Bullets don’t hurt it! he thought.

  Suddenly people were rushing in from all sides. Men in black SWAT outfits with infrared goggles, and at least six of Cuccolo’s henchmen. They all raised their weapons and did nothing but stare in disbelief as Cuccolo was carried off toward the grove of trees between the carousel and the 65th Street transverse road.

  Eddie cursed, holstered his weapon, and ran after them. As he went he willed the staff into his hand. The small black card flew into his palm.

  Luis was on his way down the hill toward the south end of the carousel, but Eddie rushed after Cuccolo on the north side.

  As Eddie entered the small grove, the staff expanded in his hand, and he pursued the giant, who dodged and weaved through the trees with practiced ease. He ran over a stone hill and down behind the Ballfield Cafe, past a trash dumpster and a chained gate for the transverse road.

  “Help me, Berman!” Cuccolo yelled, as he fought to pull himself free of the monster’s grasp. It mounted another hill and climbed as if the gangster weighed no more than a rag doll.

  Eddie lifted his staff and passionately yelled the first thing that came to his mind.

  “Stop in the name of the law!”

  In retrospect, it was a silly thing to say, a clichéd phrase from a thousand television shows.

  But the effect was instant.

  A brilliant red light shot from the end of his staff, whipped at his foe with a crackle of displaced air, and struck his intended target in the head.

  The giant reeled, stumbled, and roared in anger.

  “Yesss,” Eddie hissed, a smile on his lips. “You ain’t so bad, Abraxas.”

  The giant faced him, then a strange smirk appeared on his lips. He was on top of the hill and looked down at Eddie. He held up Cuccolo, reached as high as he could, and placed him up on the branch of a large tree, fifteen feet off the ground. Cuccolo clung to the tree for dear life.

  The behemoth reached to his belt and pulled out a tomahawk the size of a fire ax. It appeared to be made from wood with a flint blade held by leather straps. But like the body, loincloth, and headdress, it was a deep, leathery red.

  He raised the ancient weapon, as Eddie held up his staff and yelled, “Isa ya!”

  Another beam of red light slashed through the air and struck Abraxas and knocked him back. He fell onto its huge rear end.

  Eddie shouted. “I thought you were powerful, Abraxas. You ain‘t nothin’!”

  “You think not, Newling?” the creature said, and rose to its feet. “I killed he who bore your staff, and I shall destroy you as well!”

  He turned and ran again through the woods toward the West Side. Eddie took a deep breath and pursued.

  Alfonso Cuccolo maneuvered himself on the branch and called down, “Berman, what about me?” to Eddie’s retreating form.

  “Aw Jeez,” Cuccolo said, and laid his head against the trunk. Whatever that thing was that grabbed him, it looked like two ancient myths of the Algonquin tribe. First Lox, a clever creature that changed from beaver to wolverine, and Malsum, the god of evil.

  As he considered this, he looked down at the branch his feet rested on. There was his carved box of wood and turquoise.

  He carefully bent down and picked it up.

  “What the hell?” Cuccolo said, and tried to think why the giant Indian would leave his prize after going to all the trouble to take it. It made no sense.

  It began to grow warm in his hand.

  “Whoa,” Cuccolo said, as the box shimmered.

  Something slipped around his neck, and before Cuccolo could react, it pulled tight against his throat and cut off his vocalization.

  A voice croaked in his ear. “How nice of you to show up with so many friends. I told you to come alone.”

  He turned his head as much as he could, and saw a face concealed by a large hood.

  A gloved hand came from a sleeve and snatched the box from him. It now glowed brighter.

  “Thank you for this. My large companion left it so I could activate the charm. And you are going to help,” the figure said. “Unfortunately, not while you’re alive.”

  The hooded man kicked Cuccolo’s legs out from under him.

  With the rope around his throat, Cuccolo fell a good ten feet. The noose pulled taut, and with a snap, broke his neck.

  Cuccolo hung suspended a few feet above the ground, dead.

  The cloaked figure chanted several words and held the box up, as it glowed brilliant sapphire, then climbed down the tree to take what was needed.

  Thirty-Seven

  “I got him on the run!” Eddie whispered to himself, his face scratched by unseen branches. The giant led him out of the grove and onto a lawn.

  Eddie glanced around quickly, reassured that he was still in Central Park and hadn’t transported halfway across the globe while among the trees. As best as he could tell, Abraxas didn’t have the ability to use the woods to shift location.

  He does have limits, Eddie thought.

  Now out in the open, Eddie held up his staff, and shot another beam of fiery light at his quarry.

  The nimble giant ducked and weaved, and the blast missed him. He crossed over West Drive and onto an empty bridle path.

  Eddie followed as the Indian turned and ducked into a huge tunnel. Eddie stopped.

  Why did he go in there? his cop instinct screamed. There must be a reason.

  “I’m not going to let him get away,” Eddie said aloud, and began to run after the red-skinned colossus.

  Meanwhile, Luis was far behind him circumventing the grove. He saw Eddie run from the trees and lift a stick he was carrying and wondered where the heck Eddie had gotten that. Then there was a flash, like distant lightning before a storm.

  Luis watched Eddie stand still for a moment. Luis waved his arms and tried to call out, but he was too winded to do so. His large frame wasn’t designed for long runs.

  Eddie approached the tunnel with his staff held tightly in both hands. The light inside blinked once and then went out, which plunged the man-made cavern into utter blackness.

  Eddie stopped at the aperture. Every instinct told him it was a trap.

  He looked at his staff and closed his eyes. He needed a light. There was a flash, and a ball of red light the size of a baseball appeared above his stick. It quivered, flared like a miniatur
e sun, as if a number of tiny nuclear explosions created the illumination.

  He waved the staff once, and the ball of light came loose and moved into the tunnel, as it followed Eddie’s will.

  The tunnel appeared empty.

  He stepped in cautiously, his staff at the ready, as he looked from side to side for unexpected movement.

  Can Abraxas turn invisible? Eddie considered. If so, it would explain how he got the jump on Riftstone.

  A few hundred feet away, Luis clambered over the small hill as Eddie entered the tunnel. Luis still couldn’t call out. His breath passed through his lungs with the sound of a large motor and his heart smacked against his chest as if it sought escape. Luis reached the tunnel and grabbed the stone wall to steady himself.

  Eddie leapt around to face Luis, his stick aloft.

  Luis panted and held up his hands in a pose of surrender.

  “Luis!” Eddie gasped, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

  Luis wanted to say, “Following you!,” but instead he panted harder and tried to swallow, as if he’d just completed the New York City Marathon.

  “How much have you seen?” Eddie stepped toward his partner.

  As Eddie moved closer, Luis raised his head to see a giant figure appear out of the shadows.

  It was at least ten feet tall, with blood-red skin and horns that looked like a large bull’s rising from its head. It walked on hoofed feet, the bottom half of its body covered with a thick pelt, as crimson as the rest.

  It was a demon, more real and frightening than any tales his Sunday school teacher regaled him with as a boy in the basement of St. Joseph's in the Bronx. Taloned hands rose, and reached for Eddie.

  Luis’ jaw dropped open and his eyes bulged. He wanted to point, to yell, to let Eddie know, but shock paralyzed him.

  Eddie saw the panic in his partner’s eyes and turned.

  The demon reached for him.

  “Isa ya!” Eddie yelled, and a fiery blast flew from his staff and engulfed the demon’s head with strange ruby flames. It was as if he’d been soaked with lighter fluid and set ablaze.

  “Holy crap,” Luis wheezed.

  “Got him!” Eddie said, teeth clenched.

  The flames burned brightly, but a low chuckle began to emerge from the monster. Eddie suddenly noticed that although his head was on fire, Abraxas’ body didn’t flail about in pain or even discomfort.