by Arjay Lewis
“Such things are commonplace in this house,” Marlowe considered. “I thought it would be…grounding…to have breakfast the way you are used to.”
Eddie glanced around the room. The floors here were polished oak and the ceiling was twelve feet high. “I’ll tell you, Marlowe, this is a lot fancier breakfast than at my house. Your breakfast table wouldn’t fit in my dining room.”
“Ah!” Marlowe looked up as if he noticed the room for the first time. “Yes, I suppose the townhouse is a bit ostentatious.”
Eddie opened the next chafing dish and took some bacon. He was hungry, and couldn’t quite recall when he last ate.
Marlowe turned a page in the book, which sent dust rising from it.
Eddie put his plate down at the table and held up a gleaming silver teapot. “Is this coffee?”
“Hmm?” Marlowe said. “Oh, yes, help yourself. As I recall, you take your coffee with cream—not milk—and no sugar.”
“How do you know that?” Eddie poured the brown liquid into a cup on a saucer.
“Since you were summoned,” Marlowe turned another page, “I have observed you in my crystal.”
“Great, and I thought my momma was nosy.”
“I assure you,” Marlowe stressed, as he sipped his own coffee, “I did not watch you too…intimately.”
“Having anyone watch me is disconcerting.”
Eddie began to eat as Marlowe continued to scan the book.
“I met Daniel,” Eddie stabbed a forkful of egg. “Weird guy.”
That made Marlowe smile. “Weird is all perspective. Daniel acts as an arbitrator between myself and many other beings.”
“He didn’t want to come downstairs.”
“That is astute. You see, the sunlight would be very bad for him.”
Eddie frowned, “Why?”
Marlowe turned another page. “Didn’t he tell you? Daniel is a vampire.”
Eddie almost spat out his coffee. He fought to swallow it, and fell into a coughing fit. Marlowe peered over the book in concern.
“A vampire?” Eddie gurgled in a raspy voice. “You work with a vampire?”
“Actually, he works with me. It is a difficult position for Daniel. There is bad blood between vampires and wizards.”
“Bad blood?”
“Perhaps a poor choice of words,” Marlowe retorted. “There are many factions among supernatural beings. In the past there has been open warfare between groups. The wizards wish to improve the world and lead mankind to higher consciousness. Others wish to dominate mortals and the world.”
“So, the vampires would more likely be in league with a bad guy like Abraxas.”
Marlowe nodded solemnly. “They would enjoy the release of destruction, anarchy, and evil. It would allow them free rein of their darker lusts.”
“So why does Daniel work with you?”
“Many years ago I had the opportunity to save his life. A favor he has returned more than once. He goes places I would not be welcome, and brings me insights I would never hear. However, I deal with the undead quite a bit. Among my skills I am a necromancer.”
“A what?”
“Necromancer. I conjure spirits of the dead.”
“I thought you were an herbalist,” Eddie quizzed.
“That too,” Marlowe replied. “Anytime someone needs help with hauntings, spirit possession, that sort of thing, I’m usually called in.”
“So, we’re kind of in the same line of work.”
Marlowe brightened at this statement. “Why yes, Eddie. We both are involved in cases that deal with the dead. You, on a physical level and myself on a spiritual one.”
“It’s a wonder we haven’t met before.”
Marlowe shrugged innocently and turned another page.
“So, you guys have your specialties?” Eddie challenged.
“There are many fields of endeavor open to us. I have expanded mine over the years. I once was adept at divination, seeing the future.”
“But not now?”
“It was difficult for me. I was forced to live backwards and remember what was yet to happen.”
“I don’t quite follow that.”
“That was my problem as well. Frisha is wonderful at prophecy, absolutely first rate.”
“Maybe we should ask her to find Abraxas?”
“I asked her here this very morning for that purpose,” Marlowe suddenly stabbed the aged book with his index finger. “Aha!”
“What is it?”
“The question you asked earlier. Another way for the demonic forces to gain power. I don’t know why I didn’t remember—”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Eddie said, as he chewed on his bacon.
Marlowe shook his head. “There is no excuse. I have grown lax, too comfortable in my old age.”
“So what is it?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Marlowe gazed down at the book. “The other way for an entity to gain power in the physical world is through the use of a talisman.”
“A what-a-man?” Eddie sipped his coffee.
“A talisman,” Marlowe explained. “It is a religious or ritualistic symbol imbued with spiritual energies.”
“Like a lucky rabbit’s foot or a cross?”
“Yes, good Eddie,” Marlowe acknowledged. “Only there are some talismans, very old, very ancient, in which a being leaves a portion of its essence.”
“Why would it do that?” Eddie asked as he finished his eggs.
“To create a pathway to this physical plane, and to leave some of its own essence to strengthen it.”
“Like a battery?” Eddie guessed.
Marlowe gave a laugh, and looked at Eddie with amazement.
“What? Have I got food hanging off my face?”
“No,” Marlowe chuckled. “It is you, Eddie. You have gone through a most unusual experience, more than most mortals will ever know. Then this morning I tell you that you must help stop a demon. Instead of going insane or running off, you sit with me, and translate ancient lore into its modern equivalent. You are quite unexpected!”
Eddie shrugged. “Look, Marlowe. I’m a cop, a detective. My job is to take what witnesses tell me, and interpret it so I can use it. I don’t know anything about this wizard stuff.”
Marlowe shut the book and pushed it away from him. “This might be the right time for you to start finding out.” Marlowe picked up his coffee cup and asked. “What is this made of?”
Eddie frowned. “Uh…china, porcelain…I guess.”
“Good! That is on the broad, physical level. But, if we put this under an electron microscope, what would it be made of?”
Eddie thought for a moment. “Molecules?”
“Very good— and what are molecules made of?”
“Atoms?”
“Excellent. Now Eddie, I am sure you were taught that atoms are made of even smaller particles?”
“Sure,” Eddie glanced up at the ceiling as he tried to recall. “Protons, neutrons, croutons…something like that.”
“Close enough,” Marlowe smiled. “Now, are you familiar with research into quarks?”
Eddie scratched his head. “Guess I’m behind in my reading.”
“I’ll keep it in layman’s terms. Scientists found that test results on subatomic particles were influenced by the desire of the researchers. If someone observed this tiny invisible particle and wanted it to turn left, it would be influenced by that desire.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Those scientists discovered a secret those who walk the path have known for millennia. All things are made from the same substance: in modern terms, atoms. And this substance can be affected by the intent of the observer.”
Marlowe held the cup above the table, and opened his hand. Eddie cringed, expecting it to fall to the heavy wooden table. However, it remained suspended in the air.
It didn’t hover or spin, but merely hung perfectly still as if it rested on an invisible shelf.
Eddie’
s mouth fell open.
“How?” was all he could think to say.
“Simple,” Marlowe leaned back in his chair.
“But you’re defying gravity.”
“There are things that defy gravity all the time,” Marlowe said. “The air floating about us, and lighter than air gases. These are made from atoms, like the cup, are they not?”
“Well, yeah, sure, but they’re, I don’t know, lighter or thinner,” Eddie found he was unable to take his eyes off the cup residing in midair.
“I did not change gravity, Eddie. I altered the cup so it was no longer affected the same way. It is the cup that changed, not gravity.”
“How?”
“Through my will and my intent, the building blocks of existence,” Marlowe reached up to take the cup by its handle, and return it to the table. “Now you try.”
Eddie frowned, and carefully picked up his own cup. He drained the coffee in one gulp. “No point wasting it.”
“You must know you can do it, Eddie. Don’t just try to do it or think you can. Know it and want it! Desire is an important part of intent,” Marlowe expounded.
Eddie looked doubtful, then his jaw set and he nodded. “You got it!”
Eddie held the cup only an inch or two from the table. Marlowe gave him a look, and Eddie held it up higher.
“Good. Now look at the cup— become aware of it, not just with your eyes or hand, but with your mind.”
Eddie stared at the cup, and the flowered design on the white porcelain grew brighter.
“Whoa!” Eddie marveled.
“Did the colors become more intense?” Marlowe asked, his attention focused only on Eddie.
“Yes,” Eddie stared at the shimmering hues on the cup.
“Now, feel the cup, feel it disconnect from what pulls it down. Feel it grow lighter.”
“I feel it,” Eddie whispered.
Eddie tentatively removed his hand, one finger at a time. As he removed the last one, the cup dipped a little, but held its position in midair.
“Wow!” a huge smile broke on his face.
“Well done!”
“I don’t believe it!” Eddie said, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the cup fell to the tabletop and smashed into pieces.
Eddie leapt back in surprise, which knocked his chair over. He fell backward and braced for an impact—which didn’t occur.
Eddie found the chair had stopped a few inches above the floor. Marlowe was still in his seat, but his walking stick was raised. He made a simple gesture, Eddie’s chair returned to its upright position, with Eddie in it.
Eddie looked at Marlowe in shock, as the older man lowered his cane. “You see, it is a useful skill.”
“Yeah,” Eddie felt a stupid grin break out on his face. “I’m sorry about your—”
The words stopped as he looked to the spot where the cup fell, only to find it sat undamaged on its saucer.
“It, ah…the cup…it, ah…” Eddie struggled.
“I merely put it back together again, Eddie, atom by atom,” Marlowe expounded.
“Man,” Eddie said, he picked up the cup and turned it in his hand. “You ever patent that and Krazy Glue will be out of business.”
“Do you know what you did wrong, Edward?”
“Uh—well, I thought I…that is, I think I…uh…” Eddie gave a shrug and added, “No.”
“You said words that a wizard must never use. You said you didn’t believe it!”
“Well, yeah, but that’s just an expression.”
“Not to a wizard, Eddie,” Marlowe speculated, his face very serious. “Our word is our bond, and can be used against us by others. We are very careful in what we say. When you claimed to not believe it, you negated your influence. Belief is another necessary part of intent.”
“Okay, I won’t do that again,” Eddie said.
“Nevertheless, you made a good start. Now, if we begin right now, then by this afternoon—”
“Wait a minute,” Eddie glanced at his watch. “This has been very informative, but I’ve got to get to work.”
“Work?” Marlowe repeated, at a loss.
“Yeah, work. I’m a detective, working on a murder, remember?”
“Oh, of course,” Marlowe went on. “But there is so little time, and you have so much to learn.”
“Well,” Eddie rose, “I also have a mortgage, taxes to pay, and a family to support.”
Marlowe also stood up and gently grabbed Eddie’s arm. “Eddie, money is no longer an issue for you. If you need me to give you some—”
“Hey, I don’t take charity,” Eddie shook Marlowe’s hand loose.
“That’s not what I meant,” Marlowe’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s just that money is the easiest thing to manifest.”
“It’s more than just money. I earned my job, and I’m damn good at it.”
“Of course you are, Eddie,” Marlowe assured in a calming voice.
There came a loud rapping on the door.
Instantly, Bob, the small green glob, rolled through the air into the room. He looked much paler in the sunlight, and was almost transparent.
The makeshift face appeared out of the green ball, and the mouth opened up to announce, “Bankrock at door.”
“Very well,” Marlowe said, a bit annoyed. “Please let him in, Bob.”
“Who is Bankrock?”
“Bankrock. He is— well, I guess the best way to describe him is that he is our CMO.”
“CMO?”
“Yes,” Marlowe explained. “Chief Magickal Officer. He helps to regulate the use of our abilities and keep us hidden from the mortal world. I asked him here this morning.”
“Ah, the newest member,” Bankrock announced as he entered from the foyer. He slipped his leather binder under his arm, adjusted his spectacles, and held out his hand. “Bankrock. Glad to meet you, Mr. Riftstone.”
Eddie took the man’s limp hand. “I’m Berman, Eddie Berman.”
“Oh?” Bankrock looked surprised. “I assumed you would take the name of your master.”
Eddie dropped the man’s hand, and felt his collar grow warm. “My what?”
“He who held your staff before you,” Bankrock gulped, unnerved by the look in Eddie’s eye. “It is a common tradition. Drusilicus took the name Greywacke in honor of his master.”
“I don’t got no ‘master,’” Eddie countered as his temper flared.
Bankrock stood aghast. “I—I meant no disrespect.”
“And where’d you get your stupid names, anyway? Riftstone, Bankrock. What are you guys, the damn Flintstones?”
“Well, I never!” Bankrock huffed and made a note on his pad.
Marlowe put himself between the two men. “Please, Bankrock, I asked you here for a specific purpose. Why don’t we all sit and I shall explain.”
“I’m goin’ to work,” Eddie turned toward the door.
“Eddie, please, if you can give me just a few minutes more, I’ll explain my plan.”
Eddie glared at Marlowe.
“Please?” Marlowe repeated.
“Yeah, sure,” Eddie peeked at his watch. He did still have time.
“Trefoil and I have created a strategy to dispatch the demon,” Marlowe affirmed.
“I was not informed of this,” Bankrock sniffed.
“That is why I asked you here this morning. Trefoil was concerned about how Riftstone was killed.”
“Considering the nature of the murder…” Bankrock began.
“No, the question we have is how did the demon catch a prophet unawares? Trefoil and I resolved that Abraxas must have disrupted Riftstone’s prophetic powers, hence causing the magickal disturbance you detected, Bankrock.”
“A level nine disturbance,” Bankrock considered. “That could affect a seer.”
“We felt that we needed to go on the offensive. We need to track the demon down during the daytime while he is resting. With Trefoil’s and my own abilities combined, we s
hould easily cast him out.”
“So what do you need me to hang around for?” Eddie interjected. “I don’t know anything about casting out demons.”
“We believe your presence would assure our success, Eddie.”
“How are you going to find the demon?” Bankrock said.
“With Frisha’s help,” Marlowe explained, a smile curved on his lips.
“Ah,” Bankrock considered. “Provided the magickal disturbance hasn’t affected her as well.”
“That’s why I wanted you along, Bankrock. Your own prophetic ability is limited, but it could be just what we need. What’s more, by attacking the monster as a group of five, we might convince the demon that the Five came together.”
“Lemme get this straight,” Eddie cautioned. “You’re gonna try to bluff a demon?”
“Yes,” Bankrock nodded his head slowly. “This proposal might have some merit.”
“Look, I would only be in the way,” Eddie protested.
Marlowe sighed. “I know you are inexperienced, but if you were there to provide us—what do you call it—background?”
“You mean ‘backup,’” Eddie corrected.
“Yes! I believe it would assure our victory!”
There was a knock at the door.
“Our final guest!” Marlowe yelped. “Eddie, if you could spare just a few hours, we could end this today. You can solve the crime as well as help us dispense justice.”
Marlowe walked to the front door and pulled it open, just as Frisha, in mismatched garments, fell into the foyer.
Marlowe knelt to her. “Are you all right, Frisha?”
“’Tis terrible, terrible,” she gasped. She held up a hand and waved them away as she huffed and puffed like a bison of some variety.
“What is it?” Marlowe took her hand.
“Is she hurt?” Bankrock rushed over.
“Not…me,” she wheezed, “Trefoil.”
Sixteen
Eddie and Marlowe shot a look to each other. Eddie was surprised that he saw fear in the older man’s face.
“He was supposed to meet us this morning,” Marlowe revealed. “What has happened?”
“Everybody calm down,” Eddie helped Frisha to her feet and led her to one of the nearby overstuffed, ornate chairs. “Tell us about it.”