by Arjay Lewis
“I’m interested in only one conversation, Frisha,” Eddie said. “One that concerned me?”
“You, Fred?” She looked at her hands for a moment as if considering this.
“Yes, and it’s Eddie.”
“Are ye sure?”
“Quite. You spoke to Drusilicus, told him I might be killed in the park.”
“Aye!” Frisha raised one finger like an exclamation point. “That I did. I received a terrible vision, that thou wert beaten, cast down by the demon that didst kill poor Riftstone.”
“Why contact Drusilicus with that information? Why didn’t you talk to Marlowe or the others?”
“Oh, it came to me after they wert gone,” Frisha’s eyes grew wet with tears. “Oh, tis awful, I canna see the future clearly. Not at t’all, and thou canst know the suffering it causes me.”
“You say you saw something last night?” Eddie watched her carefully. He wanted to stay aloof, and not buy into the old woman’s drama.
“Yes, I did. After days of nothing but confused pictures that nary made sense, I clearly saw thee struck down by the demon. So, I did the first thing I could think of.”
“Why not come yourself? You could have found Marlowe or the others and arrived sooner.”
She stood still for a moment, her mouth moving like a fish out of water. Then she found her voice. “Marlowe said not to leave the townhouse. T’was dangerous!” Her mouth began to quiver in despair. “And thee don’t have no idea what t’is like. I be nothing more than a poor old woman and I canst read the future as well as a fortune teller at a carnival.”
She let loose with a wail of anguish and threw herself into Eddie’s arms and sank into the folds of his tunic.
“Frisha, please,” Eddie was uncomfortable with the distraught woman. He preferred to question people in an interrogation room, in a more controlled environment.
“And now, thou hates me for my vision,” she bawled “Oh ‘tis a terrible life I have, indeed.”
“I don’t hate you,” Eddie became frustrated at the way this was going. “I’m only trying to find out—”
“Oh, I be a poor, confused woman with no one to help clear me head.”
Eddie knew there was no point to continue. He murmured a few words of comfort, then untangled himself from Frisha’s embrace. He went quickly into the downstairs bathroom and bolted the door.
He leaned against the door for a moment, tried to enjoy his solitude. Then he pulled off his tunic, noticed the mirror, and placed the garment over the reflective surface.
He tried to pull off the tall boots as he sat on top of the closed toilet, with no avail.
“How did people in the old days take these things on and off?” Eddie muttered. Finally he grabbed his staff resting near the closed door and transformed the boots and hose back into his pants and shoes.
He washed up in the sink, and remade the tunic back into his shirt and suit jacket. When he finished, he stepped out into the hall, cleaned and pressed.
He glanced at his watch to find it now sported Aramaic letters instead of numbers.
“Damn!” Eddie pulled out his cell phone, which used Hebrew on the keys. Eddie exhaled with frustration and walked toward the breakfast room.
“EDDIE!” Luis yelled out as he was halfway there.
Eddie broke into a run and bounded through the doorway.
“What is it?” Eddie barked.
“I don’t know,” Luis yelled back.
He and Marlowe stood over an unnaturally pale Bankrock.
“When did he get here?” Eddie jammed his phone into his pocket, dropped to his knees, and grabbed the wizard by his shoulders.
“Just a few minutes ago,” Marlowe said. “He came through the back door, barely able to stand.”
“Bankrock!” Eddie carefully got under the man and leaned him up. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Bankrock opened his eyes and looked at Eddie with a start, as if he didn’t remember where he was.
“Is he havin’ a heart attack?” Luis asked.
“I doubt that,” Marlowe blurted. “But, he was most upset, and said things that made no sense.”
“What were you two doing?” Eddie looked up at Marlowe.
“I was examining those photos of the Mayan artifacts,” Marlowe offered.
“We found a bitchin’ coincidence,” Luis gloated.
“Later,” Eddie turned back and shook Bankrock. “Are you sick?”
“No, no,” Bankrock croaked. “But I will be if you don’t stop shaking me.”
“Sorry,” Eddie helped him up from the floor and into a chair. “What happened?”
“Yes, my friend, tell me what troubles you so,” Marlowe encouraged.
“I have had a vision,” Bankrock sat up in the chair. He was still very pale.
“You?” Eddie said.
“He does have prophetic abilities,” Marlowe stated.
“Limited,” Bankrock corrected. “But this one was so…so…intense. I needed to come right over to warn you.”
“Slow down, tell us where you were,” Luis said.
“Where I was?” Bankrock squinted at Luis. Then his eyes grew wide. “I was in the park, at the top of Summit Rock.”
“A place of great power,” Marlowe said.
“What was your vision?” Eddie said.
“I saw a door,” his eyes took on a faraway look. “A great golden door held shut by seven wax seals.”
“Seven seals?” Eddie exchanged a glance with Marlowe.
“Hear me,” Bankrock became very agitated. “The golden door was in a vast temple. There on an awful metal statue was a child about to be given as a blood sacrifice.”
“What?” Luis gasped.
“The Great Evil must kill a child to open the seventh seal,” Marlowe said in way of explanation.
Eddie shifted his attention back to Bankrock. “But what of it?”
Bankrock grabbed Eddie’s arm tightly and eyed him intensely. “You must away.”
“I don’t understand,” Eddie questioned. “Go? Where, why?”
“You, Edward Berman!” Bankrock pleaded. “I did not see clearly, but I am certain the sacrifice offered was a child close to you.”
Forty-Four
The traffic on the George Washington Bridge was at a standstill, not an unusual occurrence for a Saturday night at 6:45.
Knowing that did not make Eddie relax, as he sat in the passenger seat of Luis’ car, a 1999 LHS that passed its last good day in 2010.
Eddie wanted to go into the park and transport right home. But, Luis, unaware of Eddie’s new mode of travel, ran and got his car.
Now, as they sat stuck in traffic, Eddie knew it was the wrong choice. He fought to control the knot in his stomach as he spoke aloud, “We would’ve missed this if we just left!”
“I needed to make sure Bankrock was all right,” Marlowe affirmed from the back seat.
Eddie glanced back at him. “But why did you have to go into the basement?”
“To prepare some necessary precautions.”
“Ain’t had much luck with that,” Eddie muttered.
“I know, Eddie,” Marlowe replied sagely. “I prepared something that may help us before the next attack, instead of after.”
“Really?”
“I thought it was time to ‘think outside the box.’”
Luis sighed deeply, “I guess we should’ve taken a police car.”
“Great way to get fired or even arrested with us on suspension,” Eddie replied.
“What does it matter, we’re talkin’ about your kid!” Luis slammed the steering wheel with one of his beefy palms.
“Calm yourself, sergeant,” Marlowe’s voice came from the littered back seat. He continued to examine the photograph through a large magnifying glass. “He will not attack before sundown.”
“How do you know that?” Luis said.
“The dark forces are not as strong while the sun remains in the sky.”
Eddie grabbed his cell phone and pushed the redial button. His home phone number appeared on the screen. At least he hoped it was his home number, because it was still in Hebrew characters. He was greeted by the same busy signal he’d received for the last half-hour.
“Marlowe, is there anything you can do?” Eddie gestured at the unmoving vehicles.
“Much,” Marlowe boasted, his head still bent over the photos.
“Great,” replied Eddie with hope.
“But not about traffic. We’ll have to wait it out.”
“Provided we don’t suffocate first,” Eddie waved away smoke that blew in the window.
“I’m burning a little oil,” Luis apologized.
“Smells like you’ve set fire to a toxic waste dump,” Eddie hissed.
“So, why does New Jersey have all the toxic waste dump sites and Washington DC have all the lawyers?” Luis mentioned as he moved the car several feet and stopped abruptly.
“I’m not in the mood,” Eddie worried.
“Come on, this is funny, take a guess,” Luis had a crooked smile on his face.
Eddie sighed, “Because New Jersey got first choice. Now will you please hurry! I can’t believe I live so close to the city, and it takes me so long—”
“How did you know the answer?” Luis said, deflated.
“Old joke,” Eddie looked to the back seat. “Marlowe, if we get out of the car can we use…other methods?”
“What are you talkin’ about, ‘other methods?’” Luis asked. “You guys got brooms or flying cars or something? If you could make this car fly that would really—”
“Nothing like that, sergeant,” Marlowe kicked a fast food bag out from under his feet. “Eddie, we are almost to Fort Lee. By the time we got out of the car and looked for a suitable park—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Eddie grumbled, “just step on it, Luis.”
Luis wondered for a moment about what good a park would be. Then, he moved forward as he tried not to stall his car or smack the vehicle in front of him, even though that temptation grew stronger with each passing moment. He also knew that there was something he was supposed to remember about this Saturday night. Something Maria told him. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of it.
Marlowe put down the photo and tapped Eddie on the shoulder. “You were right with your assessment. There was a fourth talisman.”
“Why do you say ‘was’?”
“It was captured within this pottery.” He pointed to the odd symbols that marked the outside of the ancient pot in the photo. “These are warnings to not disturb it, lest a great evil be set free.”
“Another spot Abraxas locked away a piece of himself?”
“Worse than that.”
“Why? What was in it?”
“A smoking mirror,” Marlowe snapped.
“How does a mirror smoke?” Luis now listened as well.
“More likely it was a smoked glass, or obsidian,” Marlowe confirmed.
“What’s that?” Luis took a glance in the rearview mirror.
“A volcanic rock with a glasslike finish. It can be polished until the surface becomes highly reflective,” Marlowe gazed down at the photo. “According to the symbols here, Tezcatlipoca, who was called a young god, probably a wizard, fought the great monster, who cut off his leg. Tezcatlipoca enchanted a mirror to cure the wound and reattach the limb. This mirror gave him the ability to absorb the power of his foe. He stole the great monster’s strength and cast him out.”
“And stuck a piece of Abraxas in the mirror,” Eddie guessed.
“Then sealed it in an earthenware jar, with many magickal protections and warnings,” Marlowe finished the story.
“And by coincidence, ended up in the only museum physically in Central Park,” Eddie complained.
“I doubt it was coincidence. Remember, a wizard told Alex where to find the Amulet of Abracadabra. That same wizard surely influenced the right person to have this artifact sent to the museum.”
“That warlock is one busy boy,” Eddie stared at the windshield, fuming. “And again, everything centers around the park. Why?”
The traffic jam was caused by an overturned truck at the junction of Route 95 and 80. Once past the turnoff for Route 4, Luis made up for lost time, and took his car up to its fastest speed, as the engine knocked and pinged.
The worn shock absorbers passed along every bump in the road to the rear ends of the riders. Luis was unaffected, as he was sitting on his own shock absorber, while Eddie and Marlowe were jostled unmercifully.
At seven-twenty-four, as the sun neared the horizon, the vehicle arrived at Eddie’s house, whereupon it stalled.
Eddie and Luis bolted from the car as Marlowe pulled himself out, kicking fast food bags as he exited. He glanced with concern at the setting sun.
Eddie noted that his wife’s car was in the driveway, but there weren’t any lights on in the house. It wasn’t night yet, but there should be a lamp on.
Eddie reached the front door and pulled it open, with Luis right behind him. The inside of his house was dark, and the quiet scared him.
“Cerise!” Eddie yelled as he entered the house.
“I hope we’re not too late,” Luis articulated what they both feared. A heavy weight gripped Eddie’s heart. The one thing that mattered, truly mattered, was his family. While he’d been off with a bunch of crazy wizards, he wasn’t there to protect them.
“Cerise,” Eddie spoke quietly, the fear almost too much for him to bear. His hand went to the shoulder-holster under his jacket, which was empty, his gun having been confiscated along with his shield.
“SURPRISE!” yelled many voices, as overhead lights flashed on, cheap noisemakers bleated and blared. A group of the Bermans’ friends and neighbors leapt up from behind furniture and doorways, throwing confetti in the air.
With Cerise in the lead.
Both Eddie and Luis stopped short, blinked, then fell back and grimaced in abject horror, then forced smiles upon their faces.
“I got you, I got you!” Cerise did a little dance reminiscent of James Brown.
William and Douglas tumbled down the stairs as they laughed with delight at their father.
“Man, Dad, we got you good!” William pointed at him. “You looked like you was gonna pass out.”
Douglas laughed, his face bright with glee. “I ain’t never seen you look so scared, Dad.”
Maria, barely five-foot two and almost as round as she was tall, pushed her way through the crowd and ran up to her massive husband and pulled him into her arms to give him a big, wet kiss.
“I tol’ my husband to keep his big mouth shut and not ruin the surprise, an’ he did it!” Maria crowed.
“That’s right,” Luis glanced over at Eddie. “It’s your surprise party.”
“Yeah,” Eddie struggled to keep a smile on his face, though it felt pained. “A surprise party…for me.”
“Happy Birthday, two days early, baby,” Cerise said, pulled him close and covered his face with kisses.
His sons put a paper party hat on his head that read “#1 DAD” and Cerise led him around the room to meet and greet the guests.
Unnoticed by anyone, Marlowe quietly entered the house and made his way to the kitchen. There was food out on the countertops and guests milled around. Marlowe opened a cabinet and pulled out a small saucepan made of brown glass. He poured in some water and placed it on the stove with a fire under it. He glanced around to make sure no one watched and took out a small envelope and poured the contents into the pan.
“Mr. Marlowe,” said a voice behind him.
Marlowe started and turned to see Eleanor Berman, who watched him with her magnified eyes.
“Mrs. Berman,” Marlowe beamed at the old woman, “so good to see you again. And please, just call me Marlowe.”
“Did Eddie look surprised?” she asked.
“He all but jumped out of his skin, dear lady,” Marlowe reported. “I would say he couldn’t have expected it
less. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good enough,” she eyed him suspiciously. “What are you cooking?”
Marlowe looked to the stove, and gave a little “oh” as if he just discovered the bubbling contents for the first time.
“That is some…rather aromatic tea,” Marlowe began. “In ancient China, when there was a major event, they would brew a special tea for the person being honored.”
“But, you aren’t Chinese,” Eleanor gave Marlowe a glance from head to foot just to make sure.
Marlowe nodded. “But it is a lovely tradition, is it not?”
“Well, whatever it is, Marlowe, it don’t smell all that good.”
“That is as it should be,” Marlowe bowed and gallantly kissed her hand.
Eleanor chuckled and made her way carefully into the dining room. Marlowe frowned at how fragile she appeared. He turned his attention back to the brewing herbs. He stirred the bubbling liquid, which now was a thickening brown mass.
The party was soon in full swing as twilight passed into evening. Music blared from the sound system, rock ‘n roll and even some hip-hop filled the house as Eddie tried to relax.
He was seriously pumped from the events of the last few hours and the frantic rush from the city. Seeing his family safe, in fact ready to party, was a great comfort.
As Eddie wandered around the party, he found his eyes rested on his sons again and again. He couldn’t help himself, after Bankrock’s startling prophesy.
He noticed Luis paced with a similar bewildered look on his face.
Eddie would shake hands with guests, say, “Thank you for coming,” and other niceties, but it was all a blur. He stayed focused on his wife and children.
People handed him drinks, and he took a sip then put each aside on the nearest table.
He was handed a cup of hot liquid he assumed was coffee, and without noticing who gave it to him, took a sip.
It was horrid.
It tasted like bitter tea with leaves still floating in it, giving him a mouthful of warm foliage. Eddie made a choking noise and barely got the mixture down his throat.
“What in the name of—?” Eddie regarded who gave him the cup.
Marlowe stood next to him, his eyes bright.
