The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

  “Police!” Luis knocked on the cardboard wall gently.

  “You gonna move me?” the invisible resident worried.

  “No,” Eddie explained. “We want to ask some questions.”

  “I spoke to the police,” the voice grunted. “I know naught.” The box jiggled a bit as if the person inside shifted around.

  “If you could, just for a moment,” Eddie implored.

  The box stopped.

  “We are trying to find out about a man who was killed.” Luis felt his frustration rise. “Look, it’s for your own protection. He was a homeless guy.”

  Luis turned to Eddie and spoke in a low voice, “Man, what a stink. Do they all have to reek like that?”

  Eddie was abruptly aware of the odor coming from the cardboard abode. There was the stench of urine—that was the strongest—coupled with stale body odor, but there was also something pungent, like burning hay or stinkweed.

  “Is it a man or a woman?” Eddie quietly asked Luis.

  Luis shrugged.

  Eddie knocked on the cardboard one more time, this time using the head of the cane. The box shivered, and a head poked out. The face belonged to a wizened woman with more than wrinkles—crevices—carved into her face. Her hair was short and curled wildly, a combination of gray and white. She looked up at Eddie with a toothless expression of surprise.

  “Thee t’aint the man ‘twas here earlier!”

  “No, ma’am.” Eddie stepped back to avoid the fresh gust of redolence that exuded from the box when the woman looked out. “Did he ask about a homeless man who was killed?”

  “That be,” the woman snorted, yet still remained within the safety of her box.

  “What did he look like?” Luis inquired. “Maybe he’s from our precinct?”

  The old woman cackled an unsettling laugh. “If he t’were, you’d best deny it.”

  The woman pushed the black cloth away and stepped out. She was average height, wearing shabby clothing that looked piled in layers over a heavy body. A small cloud of gray smoke trailed her out.

  “T’was a big, white man an’ a most grievous ass-hole!” she spoke the word as if it were two words, with the accent on the first syllable. “Pardon my language, but I speak plain.”

  Luis and Eddie exchanged a knowing glance.

  “Was his name Wilcox?” Eddie ventured.

  “Somethin’ like tha’.” The woman’s eyes shifted to the stick in Eddie’s hand. “Now, where didst thee get tha’?”

  Eddie held the cane up. “It belonged to the victim. We were hoping you might recognize it— and could tell us about the owner.”

  She stepped closer and shot out a hand to grasp the stick. Eddie started, fought the urge to pull it from her, but held tight as she caressed it. Her hand was like leather, with large veins which popped from it, the fingernails grimy but long and claw-like. She rubbed the ball at the top and closed her eyes for a moment.

  “Thou hast been summoned,” she rasped, her eyes still shut. Eddie was amazed that this phrase slipped from her.

  “I’ve been…what?” Eddie replied, the back of his neck tingled as if a hundred small spiders crawled up his spine.

  “Summoned!” she hissed emphatically. “Come in. Thou must come in.”

  She moved her hand to his free wrist, took it in a grip of iron, and pulled him toward her box.

  “Lieutenant?” Luis, alarmed, moved toward him.

  “No,” Eddie asserted over his shoulder. “She might know something. If I’m in trouble, I’ll yell.”

  The woman pulled Eddie past the cloth partition and into the box. The inside was pitch black, and smoke misted around Eddie’s feet. The horrific odor was overpowering, and Eddie coughed.

  “Sorry.” The woman waved her hand.

  Immediately, the stink was gone, replaced with the ambrosial scent of incense.

  “Come, come.” She pulled him further.

  Eddie realized that the room around him was much larger than the inside of a cardboard box.

  The woman pushed aside another cloth, which slapped Eddie in the face as he went through it.

  Before him was a large hall.

  Though mist-shrouded with the sweet smelling herbs, it was lit with glowing purple fixtures built into the structure. The walls were elaborately decorated with unusual symbols that glowed yellow.

  Before them stood a large table with a heavy, brocade tablecloth. Upon it sat a large crystal ball in a metal holder, glowing with an inner fire.

  The woman released Eddie’s hand and went to the far side of the table to sit in a large throne-like chair, piled high with pillows.

  Eddie stared at the huge room around him. The ceiling ran above his head at least twelve feet, and there were two sofas and a divan hiding in the shadows.

  “Where the hell are we?” Eddie wondered aloud.

  “Sh! Quiet thou!” the woman whispered and sat forward in the massive chair to stare into the crystal ball. She reached behind her head and pulled up a kind of hood which covered her face with shadows.

  Eddie also noticed that her clothes no longer appeared to be rags, but a flowing purple robe that swathed her hefty shape.

  “Luis!” Eddie croaked.

  “Shush now!” The woman concentrated on the ball.

  Eddie turned in a full circle as he tried to fathom how the cardboard box had become this magnificent edifice.

  “But…where? How?”

  “‘Tis merely fourth-dimensional physics. Now be still!” The woman consulted the glowing sphere. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Thou carries Riftstone’s staff. It has summoned thee!”

  “Who? I mean, yes, I found the cane at the Riftstone Arch,” Eddie explained.

  “Ah!” The woman left the massive chair, walked over to Eddie, and grabbed his head in her wizened hands. She stared deeply into his eyes. “You know little.”

  “You’re telling me.” Eddie grimaced, her grip almost painful.

  She let go and backed away, an unhappy expression on her face. “I have shown more than thou shouldst see!”

  Then she turned, did what looked like a little jig, and smiled. “Oh well, ye might as well get used to it!” She let loose her cackling laugh and spun again.

  Eddie could see that she was now dressed in purple silk adorned with glittering stars and moons.

  “I am Frisha!” she stated with a wave of her hand, and a large, wooden spoon flew off the table and into her palm.

  So quickly, that Eddie thought his eyes played tricks on him, the spoon grew longer and thicker. It became a gnarled wooden staff that stood a head taller than the woman.

  “Lieutenant!” a voice echoed as if it was a hundred miles away.

  “Luis?” Eddie yelled back, momentarily comforted by his partner’s voice.

  “You all right in there?” Luis’s voice was strangely amplified in the huge room.

  “Say thou art fine,” Frisha whispered.

  “I art fine—I mean, I am fine! Be out in a minute.” Then he added under his breath, “I hope.”

  Frisha nodded her head and smiled her toothless grin. Her dental hygiene hadn’t improved.

  “When do ye meet Marlowe?” she said.

  “Marlowe?” Eddie was shocked that she knew his name. “Uh…at five.”

  “Do not be late, and goest by thyself.” She lowered her voice. “Thy friend does not walk the path.”

  “I don’t know anything about a path.” Eddie tried to think how to get answers from the strange old girl. “Look, I’m here about a murder. I want to find who killed…Did you say his name was Riftstone? Like the arch?”

  She nodded, and her face bent in a small, warm smile. “What is thy name?”

  Eddie experienced that chill on his neck again. “Aren’t you the fortune teller?”

  “I know all, I see all, and I wash my clothes in All,” she said. Then, she cackled at her joke, as if it were the funniest thing ever said. Eddie stood dumbfounded as tears of mirth rolled dow
n her cheeks.

  “You see?” Frisha chuckled and fought to regain her breath. “I see all, I use the detergent named ‘All.’”

  “I get it,” Eddie deadpanned.

  Frisha’s grin faded. “Thou hast no sense of humor.”

  “Okay, look!” Eddie demanded, his frustration finally getting the best of him. “I’m Lieutenant Eddie Berman. Can you tell me anything you know about Riftstone? I’m trying to find his killer.”

  Frisha nodded gravely. “Thou will indeed confront he who slew him. There be naught the mortal police can do.”

  “The mortal police?” Eddie repeated.

  “Ye shall understand once thou meets Marlowe. I can tell thee no more. Ye must be initiated—”

  “Initiated?” Eddie spat back, annoyed. “Into what, the loony bin?”

  “‘Tis not my place to say. However, Freddie—”

  “Eddie!”

  ”I be a seer known far and wide. Ye may wish to seek my counsel in the future.”

  She gave a small bow, using the large stick to support herself.

  “Lady, I’m after answers right now.”

  Frisha smiled again. “That is what we all seek. But now, thy destiny seeks thee.” She grabbed his arm once again and pulled Eddie across the room. For an old lady, she possessed a remarkable grip.

  Eddie went through the curtain, felt the fabric slide against his face, and then exited, blinking into the sunlight back in Central Park.

  Luis stood waiting with concern. “You okay?”

  Eddie nodded and smiled wanly as he fought an overwhelming sense of disorientation. He looked at Frisha, but the woman was once again the ragged hag. Gone was the fancy cloak, the mysterious hood, and the wooden staff.

  “Thank ye, officer.” Frisha waved the large wooden spoon she clutched. “I wish I couldst tell thee more, but ‘tis all I know.” She turned, gave Eddie a wink, and added, “I din’t like that other policeman. He din’t have manners like thee.”

  She shuffled back into her box, and the awful urine-body-odor-burning-stinkweed smell assailed Eddie’s nostrils.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Luis asked.

  “Yeah.” Eddie tried to think of a plausible story. He couldn’t tell Luis what he’d seen; it was crazy. An image of himself sitting in a straitjacket, cross-legged on the floor of a padded cell ran through his mind. He quashed the brief fantasy and said aloud, “Maybe it was the stench—”

  “Must have been worse in there.” Luis began to lead Eddie away toward the fresh air of the North Meadow. “She know anything?”

  “Not much,” Eddie lied. She knew something but told nothing. She also used that word again: summoned.

  Eddie glanced at his watch. It was quarter-to-five. “Look, I’m going back to the murder scene. Can you go talk to the doorman at the Tavern?”

  Luis nodded. “Sure. I want to see if Wilcox was poking around there, too.”

  “I don’t know, Luis.” Eddie shook his head as he held up the cane. “Strange sticks, magic gold teeth, stinky old ladies. It would serve him right if we did give him this case.”

  Eleven

  Eddie arrived at Riftstone Arch with three minutes to spare. The crime scene tape had been removed, and the arch was open to the public.

  He approached the mouth of the tunnel from the north and peered in. The sun wouldn’t set for another two hours, yet shadows lurked within.

  He decided to wait outside until the bearded man arrived. He leaned with his back against the cold stone of the tunnel.

  “Is it always dark in there?” Eddie muttered.

  “Yes, indeed it is,” a voice echoed.

  Eddie made a sound of surprise that was somewhere between “Wha!” and “Ahh!” and stared into the gloom a second time.

  A man stood inside. He was about five-foot-five, with white hair and a trimmed beard. He wore a suit and tie with a black hat on his head set at a rakish angle. In his left hand was a tall staff, similar to the one Frisha had conjured. An unearthly light shone on its top, giving a slight illumination to the tunnel.

  It was the man from the mirror!

  Eddie glanced about to make sure no one watched, then slowly entered.

  “Hello, Edward. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.” The man extended his right hand. “I’m Marlowe.”

  Eddie took his hand and shook curtly. “Bad idea to sneak up on a police officer, Mister Marlowe.”

  “No ‘mister,’ just Marlowe,” he said as a smile played on his face. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me, Edward.”

  “It’s Eddie. Or if you want formal, lieutenant.”

  Marlowe chuckled. “I’m afraid your title means little, Eddie. But your name and the name you prefer? There is much power in it.”

  “Would you mind not speaking in riddles? I’m a little tired of it. First last night, when you phoned me. Then this morning. How did you get into my mirror?”

  Marlowe shrugged. “You called me.”

  “I met a crazy lady, Frisha, and she told me—”

  “Ah! You have met the seer?” Delight spread on his face. “How is she?”

  “How the hell should I know? One minute she’s a hag living in a box, then we’re in this huge room, and she’s in purple silk.”

  Marlowe made a clucking sound of dissatisfaction and smiled. “Always a flamboyant one, our Frisha.”

  “Yeah, well, she didn’t tell me anything. Just spoke with a bunch of ‘thee’s’ and ‘thou’s.’”

  “We call that manner of discourse ‘Oldspeak’, Eddie.”

  “Great! Then she says I have to talk to you.”

  “I understand your consternation,” Marlowe said, “and I am afraid I am not sure how to proceed. No one has been summoned for almost five hundred years.”

  “There’s that word again. What does that mean, ‘summoned?’”

  Marlowe didn’t turn to him, but instead shifted his gaze to the wall. He gestured with his stick, and a bolt of white light shot from the top and struck the wall. The word “SUMMONED” appeared in phosphorescent letters.

  “Whoa!” Eddie gasped.

  Marlowe’s voice echoed in the man-made cavern. “To be summoned, means that you neither sought nor trained to walk the path of the mystic. It is when one is called to it from a state of innocence.”

  The glowing letters flickered, as if the fuel that fed them was spent, and disappeared, leaving the tunnel lit only by the glow atop Marlowe’s stick.

  “Eddie, before I tell you anything more, you should know that no one can be forced to walk the path. If you wish to join us, it must be of your own free will.”

  “Join you? How can I do that when I don’t know anything about you?” Eddie said.

  Marlowe nodded. “We have told you little because the less you know, the safer you remain.” Marlowe faced Eddie and spoke in a low voice. “There are many things in this world that are beyond the understanding of the ordinary masses. There is a constant battle between the forces of ultimate good and ultimate evil.”

  “I didn’t see it on the news,” Eddie mocked.

  “Of course not! Because it is happening in shadows and secrecy. Which is the way it must be. Most people live their lives focused on their own little world, but some choose to live a life of vigilance, existing at a higher state of awareness.”

  Marlowe paced, as he scrutinized Eddie intently.

  “What do you want me to become a part of?” Eddie began to pace as well. “You aren’t a cult, are you?”

  “If you join us, you will no longer merely solve crimes, Eddie. You will have a hand in protecting all of humanity.”

  “Humanity?” Eddie repeated, dumbfounded.

  “Here is what I offer. You can give me back Riftstone’s staff, and I shall walk away. You will find the unusual events of the last day will fade in your memory, until they are nothing but a dream.”

  “That’s sounds pretty good,” Eddie pondered.

  “Or you can join me and others like me. You will beg
in a difficult training period.” Marlowe turned away and sighed, then went on, his back to Eddie. “And you will help vanquish an evil entity.”

  “How would I do that?” Eddie questioned.

  “You must learn of things heard only in legends and master abilities mortal man cannot comprehend.” Marlowe met Eddie’s eyes. “And you might not survive.”

  “I could be killed?” Eddie asked to make sure he understood.

  “We are fighting a most powerful foe,” Marlowe explained. “But to tell you more would be wrong. That is your choice, and I am afraid you must make it—right now. We have much to do this night.”

  Eddie stood staring at the shorter man. “This is nuts.”

  Marlowe nodded. “Many lives depend on your decision, Eddie.”

  Eddie lifted the cane and stared at the silver ball. He could feel an energy hidden within it. He realized that in a way he had known it the moment he touched it.

  He thought about his wife, sons, and even his momma. It wasn’t fair to them to take such a big risk. But wasn’t that what he’d accepted since the day he became a police officer?

  He thought back to when he was ten and lived in Harlem. He’d been playing stickball with a couple of friends when his mother ran into the vacant lot more upset then he could ever remember.

  “What’s with yo’ momma?” asked his friend Roosevelt. They stopped playing the moment she walked into view.

  “Dunno,” Eddie said, afraid he might be in serious trouble, and he racked his brain to remember if there was a chore he’d forgotten.

  “Edward!” his mother bellowed, and Eddie ran to meet her. She all but fell into his arms.

  “Momma, Momma, what is it?” Eddie said, fear a tight ring around his neck that seemed to suffocate him.

  “Your daddy,” she wheezed, out of breath. ”Your daddy. He’s in the hospital!”

  Tears sprang into his eyes, not just from the horrific news, but more from the panic in his mother’s face. It was the most frightening thing he’d ever seen.

  Eddie helped her to the nearest subway station, and the two of them rode to Harlem Hospital Center in silence but clung to each other for support.

  They went in, and the smell of ammonia and medicine covered an under odor of sickness and fear. They were given guest passes and rode up the elevator.