The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

  After they responded, Wilcox called for Conners.

  Conners ran over. “Yes, sir?”

  “We’re leaving. Keep a technician on the house if Berman returns.”

  “The surveillance equipment is shot, sir,” Conners commented. “But he can do it the old-fashioned way, use his eyes, write things down.”

  “Good! I like your style, Conners,” Wilcox said and turned on his radio. “Team One! Team Two! We are going to Manhattan. Stay suited up. I want us ready to move the minute we arrive.”

  ∞∞∞

  The light that emanated from the obelisk began to grow brighter, hieroglyphics long since eroded away appeared as figures of light dancing up and down the stone sides, and the pyramid on the top glowed a deep mauve.

  A beam of light shot forth into the clear night sky, pointed at the moon directly overhead. The ray disappeared as it traveled into space, but in a moment, the moon shifted and began to turn the same color as the obelisk’s top.

  The ground began to shake and Eddie could feel something move.

  “Look!” Eddie cried out, as the ground began to lift and rumble.

  The entire terrace, constructed of hexagonal stone tiles, suddenly moved, tossed, and resettled like waves on the surface of the ocean, except on the five points where the wizards stood.

  Then, on the west side that directly faced the stairs, tiles began to fall away into a widening sinkhole. More and more shifted, and a stairway rose up from underneath as if slid into position.

  “It’s the portal!” Drusilicus cried out. “We have opened it.”

  “I thought we wanted to keep it closed,” Eddie shouted.

  “Do not break the pentagram,” Ahbay yelled. “Once Marlowe completes the protective spell it will be closed forever.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” a voice croaked.

  Eddie turned, as the others also faced the cloaked and hooded figure with a staff who stood at the edge of the terrace. Next to the warlock was Cerise, a vacant expression on her face, and of all things, bunny slippers on her feet.

  “Cerise!” Eddie cried in alarm, and a cold sweat sprung out on his brow.

  “Do not break the pentagram!” Ahbay called loudly as Marlowe chanted faster.

  The figure laughed, deep and throaty, and from the robes pulled out the obsidian mirror. The warlock held up the impossibly black stone, and the beams that formed the pentagram began to quiver.

  Eugenia’s yellow beam was first. It pulled loose from Ahbay’s staff and flashed like a crooked bolt of lightning to the mirror. Then one at a time, each of the beams was wrenched out of alignment to be pulled into the mirror, Eddie’s last of all.

  Eddie felt as if he’d put his foot on the third rail of a subway. Electricity passed through his body, and made his muscles quiver and his teeth chatter. He forced his eyes open, and looked at the others, saw that their bodies shook as energy was yanked from them. They all cried out in pain and Marlowe no longer said magick words, but howled in agony.

  This is the same as in the bedroom, Eddie thought. Only ten times worse.

  He pulled his hand free from his staff, and allowed it to fall to the ground. The glow around him ceased, but Eddie felt as if he’d been struck by a large club. His limbs were loose and trembled, but he forced himself to move.

  He rushed to Marlowe, locked his fingers around the old man’s hands. Again the sensation that he touched a live electric wire which scrambled his nerves and made the world around him spin out of control. He pried Marlowe’s fingers open and knocked the stick from his hand. Marlowe fell to the ground, and Eddie stood for a moment and tried to draw a deep breath.

  The warlock still held three beams in his mirror, and chuckled mockingly at Eddie.

  I know that voice, Eddie thought. Then he fell to his knees and reached into Marlowe’s robes. He was afraid that in all of the clothing changes, it might be gone, but his hand brushed velvet, and Eddie pulled out the neatly folded Hat of Remembrance.

  “No time for this now,” Eddie said, tucked the hat in his belt, and leapt toward Eugenia. She shuddered like a rag doll, but Eddie grabbed her hands, felt the shock, as the smell of ozone struck his nostrils. Her grip was weak and he easily pulled her free from the staff. She fell unconscious to the ground as he moved toward Drusilicus.

  “Drusilicus,” Eddie dodged under the metal pipe of the short fence that surrounded the obelisk. “Let go!”

  Drusilicus was not in control and Eddie was afraid that he was beyond the ability to hear. However, his hand opened, as if by itself, and slowly the stick toppled toward the ground. The blue light ceased, and Drusilicus fell on top of his newly won prize.

  Eddie felt so unbelievably tired that he thought his limbs weighed a hundred pounds each. But, without a pause, he dove for Ahbay and tackled the smaller man. The two of them hurtled toward the cloaked figure with the mirror.

  The warlock jumped back just enough to dodge the falling bodies, which smacked to the ground in a tumble of limbs.

  That surprised him, Eddie thought. He didn’t see it coming!

  The hooded warlock lowered the mirror. “Clever work, Newling.”

  Eddie rolled off of Ahbay, who was out cold. He tried to get up, but felt as if every fiber of his strength had been sucked from him. He lay on the cold stone tiles, helpless.

  The hooded warlock put the mirror back into his robe and walked to the newly made opening at the base of the artifact.

  Eddie looked up at Cerise, who stared blankly as the obelisk continued to glow in a kaleidoscope of colored light.

  “Cerise, baby,” Eddie sputtered. “Get outta here, run.”

  She stood oblivious.

  Eddie wanted to jump up, help Cerise, fight the warlock, or do anything, but he couldn’t even find the strength to stand.

  That voice, I know that voice, Eddie thought. His hand went to his belt. He pulled the Hat of Remembrance free, though it also seemed to weigh five hundred pounds.

  “Thank you for opening the portal,” the warlock croaked, looking down the open staircase, as the obelisk continued its light show of glowing hieroglyphics. “Only the power of the Five could open it. Trefoil and I sought to steal your abilities with the mirror, that was our original plan. But leading you here worked just as well.”

  The warlock reached into the cloak and pulled out a red snake, which wrapped itself around his hand. He gently dropped the snake into the open stairway.

  There was a flash of red light and the sound of heavy footsteps as Abraxas, in his guise as the red demon, rose up out of the opening.

  “All is as it should be,” Abraxas glanced down the steps.

  “Good!” the warlock said.

  “Where is the sacrifice?” the demon demanded.

  The warlock pulled out a small bottle, and with a thumb, popped the cork. A greenish mist issued forth, and the warlock bent to one knee and poured it onto the ground.

  The mist moved and sparkled with inner lights, then began to form a cohesive figure.

  Rosita Vasquez appeared from the mist and was lying on the tiled terrace, her eyes closed. She began to breathe and opened her eyes. She started to lift her head.

  Eddie rolled over and got on his knees, but couldn’t stand. He slowly raised his arms to place the hat on his head.

  “Sleep,” the warlock said and Rosita’s head lowered back to the pavement, her eyes closed.

  “Oh, how I have waited for this day,” Abraxas trumpeted, and looked at the girl and the fallen wizards, a large smile on his fiendish face. “I stand triumphant as they lay helpless.”

  “Do not forget who brought you this victory, demon,” the warlock said.

  The huge devil fell to one knee and bowed his horned head in deference.

  The hat on his head, Eddie was surprised when nothing happened. “Great, the damn thing doesn’t work.”

  All at once, a flood of memories came to him, one in particular. He was in Marlowe’s living room, and found he could recall every detail
of the room around him, from each vein of the marble floor, to the shade of the wood on the fireplace mantel.

  He was listening to someone tell of Trefoil being attacked in the park. Then, she did an impression of the demon, and said, “You’ve lost your edge, wizard!”

  That voice.

  “Oh my God,” Eddie gasped, the memory clear. “You’re Frisha!”

  The warlock turned in surprise. Then, with her free hand pulled back the hood of the cloak.

  Frisha stood before him, her staff aglow, and her wrinkled mouth broke into a grin that exposed her missing teeth.

  Fifty-Eight

  Frisha surveyed the terrace, the staff in her hand shone with an unearthly light that reflected on her face, and gave her a malefic appearance.

  “Thou sees the truth, Eddie Berman,” she raised her staff toward him threateningly. “I used a masking spell to cloak my true identity, but I knew it was only a matter of time afore ye found me out.” She moved the wooden implement in a gesture of attack.

  Eddie closed his eyes, expecting a flash of power from her staff that would kill him. He was too tired to even get out of the way.

  A flare of golden light shot past Eddie toward Frisha, who easily sidestepped it.

  “Thou hast not won yet, villain,” another hooded figure cried out, as he sauntered out from behind a tree. “I knew it would be thee.”

  “And I knew you would say that,” Frisha responded. She turned to the demon and ordered, “Take the child to the temple. Do nothing ‘til I join thee to chant the words.”

  The demon gave a nod, picked up the little girl with one large hand as if she was a toy, walked down the stairs and out of sight.

  Eddie turned and glanced beyond the frozen Cerise to see a figure approach dressed in long robes, staff aloft, and a medallion around his neck that glowed with a golden fire.

  “Caleb?” Eddie yelped, recognizing the new wizard.

  “Nay, Eddie Berman,” Caleb spoke with an utterly different voice. “The one you call Caleb is merely my vessel. I am the true master of this staff and this knoll.”

  “Greywacke!” Frisha growled.

  Eddie shot his head from one person to the other as he tried to follow the conversation. “Wait a minute, the Greywacke?”

  “Yea, verily he is,” Frisha jeered. “Or was.”

  “I knew it would be thee, Frisha. I saw this night a hundred and sixty years ago. Surrender now, old love.”

  “Old love?” Eddie repeated. “You mean you were, I mean you two, I mean…ugh!”

  Frisha’s face grew red. “In my day I was quite the beauty, and once worshipped as a goddess.”

  “That was a lot of days ago,” Eddie snorted.

  “It was my desire that you would choose not this pathway,” Caleb-Greywacke effused.

  “I saw that you would return, old fool,” Frisha taunted. “You should have stayed dead.”

  “We do not die, we move to a higher plane,” Greywacke replied.

  “Yeah, your mother,” Frisha shot a bolt of energy from her staff.

  Caleb avoided the blast and easily deflected it.

  Eddie stood unsteadily, grabbed Cerise and pulled her to the ground. He looked at her, shook her, but to no avail. In desperation, he lightly slapped her face.

  “What the hell—” she squealed, as her eyes met Eddie’s. “I was just thinking about you—”

  She interrupted herself to scream as Caleb flung a bolt of golden lightning at Frisha.

  Frisha sidestepped, dissipated the discharge, and sent a red beam toward Caleb’s feet. The light hit the ground, and the tiles ignited with a whoosh of flames that engulfed him.

  “Ohmigod!” Cerise screamed. “What’s going on?”

  Eddie lifted his eyes to see Caleb walk uninjured out of the flames, surrounded by a blue light.

  “Cerise,” Eddie turned to his wife. “You have to get out of here, right now.”

  “W-What is that?” she said and gazed up at the glowing obelisk.

  “I can’t explain now,” Eddie pointed to the stairs that led off the knoll. “Head down those steps and keep running until you are out of the park.”

  “But, I…how did I get here? How do I get home?” Cerise said, and clung onto Eddie. “And where did you get that ridiculous hat?”

  Eddie yanked the hat from his head and slipped it quickly into his belt.

  “Thou art wasting thy time, Frisha. I am a prophet, and I know what thou doest beforehand,” Caleb sneered. He gestured at the obelisk and a hieroglyph of an owl with huge eyes leapt from the stone toward Frisha, its talons bared and its mouth open.

  Frisha pulled out the mirror, and the diving bird vanished into its depths.

  “Old fool, I see the future as plain as thee. You canst defeat me.”

  “Cerise, you’ve got to go,” Eddie insisted.

  “Should I call 911?”

  Eddie glanced at the battling wizards. “Get the damn army if you can.”

  “Come home to me,” she gave him a quick kiss.

  “I always do.”

  She rose in a crouch and scurried down the stairs, the bunny slippers slapped on the pavement as she went down.

  Frisha let loose another volley.

  Eddie watched Cerise descend the stairs and he crawled to the still figure of Marlowe.

  The two prophets started another attack and blocked each other’s maneuvers. Eddie shook his head. If both could see the future, there was no way either could win.

  The concept made his brain hurt.

  He reached Marlowe, and tried to rouse him. “Come on, buddy. You’ve got to wake up, we need help.”

  Marlowe’s eyelids fluttered and his blue eyes opened, not much more than slits.

  “What—” he whispered, “we—we were attacked.”

  “It’s Frisha,” Eddie said, as there was another blinding flash, Caleb attacking as Frisha parried.

  “F-Frisha?” Marlowe attempted to rise. “Nay, nay, it cannot be.”

  “It is! She and Caleb are fighting—”

  “Caleb?” Marlowe murmured weakly.

  “But, it’s not Caleb. He’s been possessed by the spirit of Greywacke.”

  “I am much confused,” Marlowe shook his head.

  “Think how I feel,” Eddie grimaced.

  Eddie pulled Marlowe up and both winced as another scintillation hit the pavement and exploded in the spot Caleb vacated a moment earlier.

  “We’re in serious trouble,” Eddie implored. “The red guy took Rosita down into the temple, and I don’t know what happened to Luis.”

  “The others?” Marlowe fretted.

  Eddie looked at the other three. They lay sprawled in different positions about the terrace. “They’re out…unconscious, maybe hurt. I don’t know, I tackled Ahbay pretty hard.”

  Marlowe nodded his head and held out his hand. His staff, which lay on the pavement, quivered, then flew into his hand. He leaned against it heavily, barely able to stand.

  “Are you up to this?” Eddie scowled.

  “I know not,” Marlowe quavered.

  Caleb focused another blast at Frisha, who reversed it so it flew back at him. Caleb deflected it once again toward Frisha, who easily avoided it, and the energy struck a tree. The leaves all turned brown in an instant.

  “What can we do, Marlowe?” Eddie begged.

  “Try to get help,” Marlowe looked up to a tree and made a chittering sound.

  There was movement on the branch of the tree, and Eddie saw a large squirrel peer down at them.

  “‘Tis Quiptail,” Marlowe pointed at the rodent. “Tell him our need.”

  Eddie glared at the old man. “I don’t speak squirrel.”

  “I am too weary to walk over there. You must talk to him.”

  Eddie let go of Marlowe and stumbled to the tree. The large squirrel watched him with its beady eyes, ready to run off if Eddie made an unexpected move.

  “Quiptail,” Eddie soothed. “We need your help. Any of your
friends, whoever you got, bring them here, ‘cause we need them.”

  The large squirrel chittered at Eddie, who nodded in reply.

  “That's right, bring the whole neighborhood,” Eddie said, and pointed at Frisha, still locked in battle with Caleb. “You see her. She killed Riftstone.”

  Eddie turned and then looked back, and gave the squirrel a bow. “Thank you, good Quiptail…uh…master of squirrels.” He felt ridiculous, but decided if he was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well go all the way.

  The squirrel chittered, gave a nod, and disappeared into the tree with a flash of motion.

  Eddie returned to Marlowe. “I hope that worked.”

  “You did well, Eddie. I have background coming,” Marlowe made a small gesture with his staff.

  “I think you mean backup,” Eddie corrected. Over the noise of the battle, he could hear hoof beats. “What is that? The cavalry?”

  He looked up to see a man on horseback mount the steps, two swords aloft in his hands.

  The attacker was dressed in coppery chain mail and wore a metal crown on his head. Then Eddie noticed that the man’s face was also the same bronze metal, as well as the horse.

  “That’s the statue we passed,” Eddie gaped, “King Jabberwocky.”

  “Jagiello.” Marlowe leaned against his staff wearily. “Quickly, we must use this distraction to get down to the temple and stop Abraxas.”

  Eddie nodded, and held out his hand to receive his staff, which gravitated swiftly to him. The pair, using their staffs to help them, began to move toward the shrine entrance.

  The living statue came at Frisha, who did not take her eyes off of Caleb, but gestured and froze the figure with his hands raised, again a mere metal statue.

  “Give up, Greywacke or who e’er you be,” Frisha threatened. “I possess the magick of the talismans, as well as the power of the Five within the Smoking Mirror. I be the most powerful wizard on this plane.”

  Caleb leaned against his staff, breathing hard from exertion.

  “All of thee, such high and mighty fools,” she derided. “Didn’t think nothing of old Frisha, did ye?”

  “We were in love once—” Caleb coughed.

  “I t’weren’t good enough for you, was I?”