The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

Eddie turned to see that the archway had moved back into the wall a good four feet, and a tunnel was on the right in the exposed alcove.

  “Come, quickly,” Marlowe stepped into the tunnel, and the white light flew down from the ceiling and lit their path.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Eddie said.

  He stepped on a huge granite stair and turned into the tunnel. As they walked in, the wall shifted, and the stone moved back to its former position with the sound of rock on rock. The arch became solid, and no cracks or openings existed to show their route.

  On Navy Hill, Jason Wilcox lowered his binoculars and wiped his brow. “Where the hell did they go?” he muttered.

  He decided to contact his partner, Sam, and get him up here to keep watch. He would also get a team together, probably pull in Conners.

  He moved away, unaware that on the nearby Bow Bridge, he was being observed by a figure who carried a large, gnarled wooden staff.

  Forty-Nine

  Marlowe shifted his clothes to the more comfortable robes as the wall closed behind them. With a thought, Eddie’s clothing shifted as well. His staff appeared in his hand, and a small reddish ball of light rose up to assist in illuminating the path.

  The tunnel was constructed of carved stone; in fact, it reflected light like marble, and there were large, elegant arches every fifteen feet. Each one was embellished with carved designs a little different from the last.

  “How did all this get here?” Eddie said.

  “Greywacke worked with the designers,” whispered Marlowe. “He used his abilities to create interdimensional portals throughout the park. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that the Great Evil might conceal himself down here.”

  “You say Daniel saw him go in here? Did he open that portal and go through the wall?”

  “Yes, though I don’t know how he gained the ability. Perhaps his warlock helped. I believe he hides in the catacombs.”

  “Catacombs? There are catacombs under Central Park?”

  “Yes and no. Going through the arch, we traversed dimensions which brought us into an alternate reality that resides next to our own.”

  “Do I need to understand what you just said?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good.”

  They walked through another beautifully appointed archway and into a room that was spherical in design. The ceiling was totally round and rose up at least twelve feet. However, directly in front of them were two tunnels, each going in a different direction.

  “I suppose that this is the start of the catacombs?” Eddie asked.

  “Yes. And did I mention if we go the wrong way, we’ll end up in a maze?”

  “Is there a damn Minotaur in them?” Eddie worried.

  Marlowe sighed with exasperation. “That’s in Greece.”

  “Good!”

  “Besides, the Minotaur died off centuries ago.”

  “Never hurts to ask. What do we do now?”

  “That potion we drank should affect us. Do you feel drawn to one opening or another?”

  Eddie stood and assessed the two tunnels. He felt a strange pull, as if he were a piece of metal and there stood a giant magnet nearby. “I feel drawn to the right.”

  “As do I. Let us go,” Marlowe said.

  “Is there any creature down there we should worry about?”

  “Only Abraxas.”

  “And he can transform into almost anything.”

  “Yes.”

  “It just keeps getting better.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Marlowe murmured. “If our adversaries are down here, they won’t be able to sense us, but they can hear us.”

  Silently they continued. The tunnel descended on a subtle incline, and Eddie realized he’d been going downhill ever since they’d walked through the archway. Wherever they were, it couldn’t be in his Manhattan, as they would eventually run into a subway tunnel or one of the hundred other underground spaces burrowed through the bedrock.

  They came to another round room, which subdivided the tunnel a second time. This time they felt a pull to the left, and continued their descent.

  After following that passage for a few minutes, they reached yet another round room that contained three tunnels.

  Eddie looked to his wrist, but his watch was once again lost in the transition from twenty-first century clothing to wizard garb.

  “How long have we been down here?” Eddie whispered.

  “It’s hard to say. About thirty minutes.”

  “I thought you always knew what time it was.”

  “Time passes at a different rate in this place, Eddie.”

  “So, you think Big Red has been hiding down here since that amulet was dug up?”

  “I believe so,” Marlowe pulled at his beard. “That’s why he was so difficult to locate, being underground in an alternate reality.”

  “And he still had access to the park.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can he do more here? I mean, is he more powerful?”

  “With the warlock’s help, the Great Evil can teleport, turn invisible, or use any of the powers of one who bears a staff.”

  “So why did he change into a snake and slither down a drain when we all ganged up on him?”

  “He was alone at the time, separated from his warlock.”

  “Or he was there, and didn’t want to tip his hand.”

  Marlowe nodded gravely. “I cannot believe that any we know would choose to work with the demon.”

  “Well, I saw that warlock myself and he was familiar.”

  “In any case, we must separate Abraxas from his companion. Working together, united with the power of the talismans, they have the advantage.”

  Marlowe held up his hand, and they both stopped.

  Eddie felt a cool breeze brush past his face.

  “We are close,” Marlowe whispered.

  Marlowe made a quick slash with his hand in the air, and the white light over his head twinkled out. Eddie followed suit with similar results.

  Down the tunnel a dim light flickered.

  “The light at the end of the tunnel,” whispered Marlowe.

  Eddie bent close to Marlowe’s ear. “How many buildings have you gone in with a perp waiting for you?”

  “Well, let’s see, there was…then again…” Marlowe stammered. “I believe that the answer is none.”

  “First mistake a rookie makes is to go into a dangerous situation too cocky,” Eddie warned. “Instead, you go in thinking they’re expecting you and have a bazooka aimed at the door.”

  Marlowe considered this for a moment, then nodded. “What do you suggest?”

  “We go into the room slowly. You go low and I’ll go high. We lead with our staffs, ready to fight, and scan the room before we move into view.”

  Marlowe shook his head. “Eddie, this is not the way wizards fight. We meet each other in the open—”

  “Yeah. Like at my house, where he snuck up on your ass?”

  Marlowe was silent for a moment. “I see your point.”

  “Good. This warlock acts like a thug, we treat him like one. If fireworks start, stay low and concentrate on getting my son out.”

  Marlowe nodded. “This is really quite exhilarating.”

  “Stay focused,” Eddie hissed. Then, crouching low, Eddie moved forward toward the lit end of the tunnel, his staff out in front of him.

  He wished he had his service revolver. Now that would be a surprise for that damn warlock!

  Marlowe easily kept up with him and moved as silently as a cat.

  They came to an archway, which was another of those round marble rooms. Off to the left, another archway was the source of the light.

  Eddie pushed Marlowe down to the crawling position as they entered the room, and on his hands and knees, Eddie moved quickly to frame the other archway.

  Peering beyond he almost dropped his staff.

  The archway opened on a huge cavern, which Eddie felt was terribly familiar
. The ceiling was at least fifty feet above his head and curved, with Astrological symbols painted in stark contrast.

  In a flash, he realized what it looked like: Grand Central Station.

  Except it wasn’t.

  If it had been Grand Central, Eddie knew there’d be escalators and ticket booths, as well as merchants selling coffee and flowers, with painted letters on the different archways to indicate how to get to the trains, and paths that led to streets and avenues that framed the enormous building.

  This was different. No ticket sellers, though huge archways, wide staircases going in different directions to marble platforms of different sizes and heights that went nowhere. No escalators, though the huge space was lit with cast iron fixtures topped with glowing spheres that contained candles or burning gas. A series of floodlights wound around the room from a cornice twenty feet in the air.

  This gave the entire room a confusing appearance, like an Escher print, where your perception of up and down shifted depending on where you focused your attention.

  Marlowe peeked out from the far side of the arch.

  Directly in front of them was a stairway that descended one flight to a platform, then separated into two sets of stairs on either end, which curved to the floor.

  It was in plain view of anyone who watched from the many other high places in the room.

  “By Zoroaster,” Eddie muttered, which caused Marlowe to look up in surprise.

  Eddie crouched low and stayed in the shadows, crab-walking next to his mentor.

  “We go down there, and we’re sitting ducks,” Eddie’s eyes scanned the room.

  “True,” Marlowe nodded solemnly.

  Eddie made a gesture, his robe transformed back into a suit and his staff shrank to be returned to his wallet.

  “What are you doing?” Marlowe hissed.

  “Our only advantage is that we have one bit of information that they don’t.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “They don’t know I’ve got my staff back. Let’s use that.”

  Eddie pointed along the staircase to a platform.

  “I’m going to go down, right in plain sight, and make a lot of noise. You stay low and move to that platform,” Eddie pointed. “Once there, you attack.”

  “Eddie, to face the enemy without your staff. That is dangerous indeed,” Marlowe cautioned.

  “All I care is that you get my son out of here, you got that?”

  “Yes, Eddie, I do,” Marlowe agreed.

  “Remember, wait ’til I hit the center of the floor before you move, understand?”

  Marlowe nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Eddie rose out of his crouch and swaggered down the steps.

  He reached the landing, and the room was silent except for a low moan of a distant breeze echoing in the empty passageways.

  “Hello!” Eddie said. “I know you’re down here. Olie-Olie In-come-free!”

  There was an ominous growl that echoed in the huge cavern, as Eddie walked up another flight of steps that climbed at a different angle.

  “Now, don’t go startin’ an attitude with me, Abraxas. You know why I’m here. You got my kid, and I want him back.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Marlowe slip down the stairs and behind a platform.

  “Come on, I haven’t got all day,” Eddie shouted. “Or are you afraid to face a guy who doesn’t even have any powers? Huh? What did you do? Turn yourself into a chicken?”

  His voice echoed in the expansive space, and Eddie could feel he was watched by malevolent eyes.

  Eddie saw a flash of blue light, jumped and turned to avoid it. However, it shot past him and struck Marlowe, who toppled to the ground as his staff fell from his hands.

  An evil chuckle reverberated off the walls.

  A figure walked up the steps of a platform. Red-skinned and muscular, Abraxas rose up like a huge marble statue. He carried a large pole, which had a net hanging off of it, as if he’d been fishing.

  Inside the net lay Douglas.

  Unconscious—or dead.

  No, no, don’t even think that, Eddie screamed inside his head.

  “So easy to take care of the old man,” Abraxas chuckled matter-of-factly. “You just hit him on his left side; he’s got a blind spot.”

  “Give me my son, you sonuvabitch!” Eddie cried out, and ran down the steps toward Abraxas. However, the demon’s platform was approached by a set of stairs that were positioned at a ninety-degree angle to the floor.

  Eddie rushed up two steps before he lost his balance, then fell to the marble floor with a resounding ‘thud.’

  “Why are you fighting us, Eddie?” came another voice.

  The sound came from a platform that looked like it hung upside down in midair from Eddie’s point of view. On it stood a hooded figure.

  Eddie’s mouth fell open. The warlock! And yet, he appeared taller than the previous night.

  “You took my son!” Eddie struggled to stand up.

  The hooded wizard strode down the stairs and onto the platform above Eddie.

  “You can have him back,” the figured snapped his fingers. “Release the boy, demon.”

  Abraxas gave a nod, and lowered the pole next to Eddie. The net fell open, and Douglas lay next to him.

  Eddie grabbed the boy and checked his pulse. It was strong, and he saw Douglas draw breath.

  “He is unharmed. Nothing but a simple sleep-spell, which can be removed at any time. I was never going to hurt him, I needed a way to get you here, so we could talk.”

  The figure walked down the steps, and lowered himself into a crouching position, pulling back the hood of his robe.

  Eddie looked up to see Trefoil.

  “You?” Eddie said, shocked. “But how…why?”

  “I know…questions. Why join forces with a demon? Eddie, it’s hard to ‘splain it all. But I can show you.”

  Trefoil held out his hand to Eddie.

  Eddie glanced over at Abraxas, who appeared to have lost interest. Then he reached up and took Trefoil’s hand.

  The room spun out of existence.

  The first thing Eddie was aware of was the smell of smoke.

  “Where are we?” Eddie asked, rising to his feet.

  They were inside a small cabin. Eddie could see pressed dirt under his shoes, and the walls made of large logs, fitted on top of each other and chinked with a gray mortar. The roof was only inches above his head.

  Trefoil stood next to Eddie, his staff in his hand. “You are with me in a memory. Nothing here is real. No one can see us and we cannot interfere.”

  “I’ve been inside a memory before,” Eddie stated. “Why’d you bring me here?”

  “To show you the truth, Eddie.”

  Trefoil walked to the door of the cabin and he and Eddie passed right through.

  To mayhem.

  In front of them was a huge wooden church engulfed in flames. There was a sign hung from the steeple, which read:

  African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church

  All Welcome

  The sign burned as well, the paint on its surface bubbled and hissed from the heat.

  People ran every which way, with bundles in their hands. Some were black, but Eddie caught flashes of white skin. They were dressed in clothing from another era. The men wore long black coats, or a variation of a tailcoat, with vests and white shirts. The women all wore long dresses, and covered their heads with hats from a plain wimple to a full bonnet.

  White men in strange, long, gray uniforms ran past, and Eddie tried to see who they were. Military officers from a bygone time? They carried billy clubs, but unlike a modern policeman’s baton, these were longer, and much nastier-looking. Some of the sticks had nails pushed through the head, making a frightful weapon.

  Eddie saw the glint of a badge on several of the men’s chests.

  The uniformed men wore gray hats like a conductor on a train and carried firearms in holsters. But they led with the clubs, yelled, pu
shed and knocked down unarmed citizens as if they harvested wheat with a sickle.

  “Who are these men? What is going on?” Eddie shouted to be heard above the din.

  “They are called ‘Keepers,’” Trefoil said and walked through the middle of the bedlam unalarmed. “‘Round here we called them the ‘Sparrow Police.’ They’re NYPD, Eddie, and it’s October 1, 1857. Today is moving day!”

  A big policeman, if that’s what he was, marched toward a thin, pale woman with fiery red hair. He raised his club just as a black man leapt between them. The officer didn’t care that his target changed, and struck the black man in the head. The man hit the ground and the woman cried out, “Husband!” and dove to shield him with her own body.

  “My God, what is this place?” Eddie cried. It looked like a village from a movie of the Old West. A circle of simple homes, well-kept and in good repair around the burning church.

  Yet, everywhere he turned people ran, the police pushed, struck, and shoved them on their way. An older black man stood up and raised his cane to defend himself against a man twice his size. The big white man pulled out his pistol and waved the man to go. Crestfallen, the old man took his bundle and slunk slowly off.

  Trefoil walked through the chaos as passively as a guide in a museum. “This is Seneca Village. America’s first attempt at integration.”

  “Integration? When was this, again?”

  “More than a hundred-and-sixty years ago, right here in New York City,” Trefoil said, as he advanced purposely through the escaping crowd. “And these people you see were landowners with deeds to the property they lived on. The newspapers called them squatters.”

  “Why is this happening?” Eddie asked, as another gray-uniformed thug threw a torch into an empty house.

  “It’s happening ‘cause the landowners are black, Eddie. Not all of them, but most. The city bought up the land around them, then sent the police to close down their businesses. Tonight, the Keepers are here to move them out by force. After all, colored people don’t need to own land. And worse, they had the audacity to let Irish and others live amongst them. Some even dared to marry a person of another race.”

  Eddie was shocked by the brutality all around him, but followed Trefoil as he passed through a door to one of the houses on the far end of the village.