The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

  Downtown Manhattan has a section known as Alphabet City. It runs south of 14th Street all the way down to the Bowery, with cross streets of Avenue A, B, and so on. There, in a dirty building near the corner of Eighth Street and Avenue B, Eddie stepped through the doorway of a small retail business. The lettering painted on the dirty glass of the display window read “Magickal Cherub.”

  “Who’s there?” a voice demanded, as Eddie’s entrance jiggled a bell connected to the door.

  “Hello? Where are you?” Eddie called out.

  The small store was crammed almost to bursting with dusty shelves filled with books and strange paraphernalia. Every square inch of counter space was covered with bottles of scented oils, incense, small cardboard boxes with labels that announced Spell Kit, and everything from strange knives with twisted blades to a human skeleton standing forlornly in the corner.

  The store smelled of a combination of incense and oils, which covered a trace odor of old marijuana.

  All of the aromas gave Eddie a headache.

  “Can I help you?”

  Eddie turned to see an older woman behind a makeshift counter. She wore heavy make-up on her wrinkled face, and her hair was an odd reddish-purple color that could not be found in nature. Eddie was not quite sure of the shape of her body between her loose garment and the many chains she wore around her neck.

  “Yes,” Eddie said, “I’m interested in talismans.”

  The older woman’s face brightened.

  “Ahhhh!” she cooed. “We have the largest selection in New York.”

  “What exactly are they good for?”

  “A beginner!” she smiled. “Talismans can do many things, attract love, influence people, bring you riches or power. Of course our spell kits can do the same and are very reasonably priced—”

  “I’m only interested in talismans,” Eddie replied firmly.

  “Ah! Well, you are in luck,” she leaned forward to speak in a lowered voice. “We have our very own enchanter!”

  “A what?”

  “An enchanter. He makes talismans, knows them and their uses. I believe he is in today.”

  “You’re not sure?” Eddie said.

  She waved her hand, which was adorned with many different cheap rings. “He has done so well with his spells, he doesn’t need to work here. He only comes in to continue his research and look through our latest stock.”

  “Research? What kind of research?”

  “He is always looking for new ways to use them,” she looked down the narrow aisles of the store. “I saw him earlier. If he’s here, he’ll be at the back counter.”

  She pointed toward the rear of the store.

  “Thanks,” Eddie strolled through the cramped aisles and glanced at the books. Some of the titles read: The True Story of Witches; 1,000 Spells for Everyday Use; Magick by Night.

  Eddie stopped at a small opening between display cases filled with round medallions on chains. Each metal circle was covered with symbols and writing unlike any he’d ever seen.

  He leaned into the opening and asked, “Anyone here?”

  “Yeah, what?” a young man looked up from a desk in the corner. There was a book open in his lap which he quickly closed and carried with him to the open space.

  He was dressed all in black with numerous body piercings, which showed shiny metal around his eyebrows, ears, nose, and even his lower lip. His T-shirt displayed the name of a rock band in such odd lettering as to be unreadable. His long hair was unnaturally black, and slick as if oiled.

  He put the book on top of a small stack of similar tomes.

  “Can I help you?” he spoke in a flat, bored voice.

  “Yes,” Eddie responded. “I’m interested in a talisman.”

  “Which one?”

  “Huh?”

  The young man gestured at the metallic circles all around them. “These are all talismans. Many of them are pentacles from the Greater Key of Solomon the King, if you put any faith in that.”

  “And you don’t?”

  He shrugged. “I started with the Key, but I’ve moved on. Way too limiting.”

  “Lady up front said you know your stuff,” Eddie said.

  He gave a small smile. “Probably one of the few people she ever hired that isn’t a burnt-out Satanist.”

  “I’m Eddie.”

  “I imagine you are. They call me Caleb.”

  “They?”

  “You know. The world,” he sneered.

  Eddie bent close to one of the items in the display case. “These look kinda cheap. What are they made from, steel?”

  The young man made a noise that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Steel? You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “No amulets are made of steel, and only one dedicated to Mars are made with iron. Steel stops the magic. These are made from pewter, and the quality is all right for something that costs ten bucks.”

  “But you don’t think much of them.”

  “A talisman can be made from almost anything. They activate forces within the human psyche. To be truly effective, a talisman should be made of precious metal: silver, gold, platinum. It increases the power of the charm, and the practitioner’s power level as well.”

  “I understand the best ones are very old.”

  “Yes, but those cost,” Caleb eyed Eddie from head to toe. “I might be able to set you up with something. What kind of spell are you trying to cast? Not love, I’m sure.”

  “How come?”

  “Wedding ring on the finger,” he pulled a loose strand of black hair away from his eye. “And from the looks of it, it’s been there a while.”

  “Observant.”

  The young man shrugged. “I have an eye for jewelry. It reveals secrets, at least to me.” He turned to a display case. “So, what are you interested in? The usual? Money, fame, power?”

  “How about something to unleash a demon?” Eddie watched Caleb’s face for a reaction. He didn't even raise an eyebrow.

  This is one cool customer, Eddie thought. Street-smart, too. He can probably smell I’m a cop.

  “Now, that’s an interesting choice,” Caleb said, his eyes narrowed a little. “But a tall order for a beginner.”

  He reached behind the counter, and Eddie felt a defensive urge to go for the service weapon in his shoulder holster.

  “I do, however, have something you might be interested in,” Caleb said with a smug look as he brought his hand out holding a bright, shiny medal that hung from a chain. “This one is real silver, and as you mentioned, very old.”

  He spun the chain and the silver disk sparkled in the light.

  “Now, how about you tell me why you’re asking about demons?” Caleb spoke casually, as if in friendly conversation.

  Eddie felt an overwhelming desire to tell the young man everything, about Abraxas and Marlowe and the weirdest two days of his entire life.

  Suddenly, he felt a warmth against his chest, as if something was growing hot in his wallet.

  The card, my staff, Eddie thought, it’s trying to protect me.

  Eddie blinked and looked away from the spinning silver disk to meet Caleb’s eyes.

  “No reason, I’ve just heard a lot about demons,” Eddie said, as a smile played his lips. “Thought it would be a fun place to start.”

  Eddie noticed the pale young man grow paler. He’d managed to surprise him at last.

  “So, what are you playing at,” Eddie demanded, “waving this thing at me?”

  “I thought you might like it.” Caleb instantly restored his composure. “But this is pricey. I couldn’t let it go for less than five thousand.”

  “For that? What does it do, produce money?” Eddie reached out for it.

  Caleb pulled the medallion out of reach. “No, it gives one influence over weaker minds. It’s from the late Renaissance, and I use it as a basis for my own designs.” He turned to look at the disk and flipped it over to examine it.r />
  Eddie glanced at the artifact in Caleb’s hand. “Craftsmanship looks good.”

  “It might have an error,” Caleb said, focused on the medallion. “The slightest imperfection invalidates the charm. Look, since you’re just starting out, you might want to get Talismans Through the Ages.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A book, right here,” he pointed vaguely at the tome he had carried over, which lay next to him. “Once you know what magicks you want to work, come back, and I’ll set you up. I could design something for you. That would be a little cheaper.”

  “Thanks, you’ve been a big help.”

  Caleb stared down at the silver medal in his hand, and ignored Eddie. With a shrug, Eddie grabbed the book from in front of Caleb, returned to the woman up front, and paid her.

  “So glad we could help you on your spiritual journey,” she said, giving a smile that showed lipstick on one of her upper teeth. “Do come again.”

  Eddie walked out, and Caleb moved to the front of the store, the silver medallion in his hand.

  The woman began to speak, “Now there’s a type we don’t normally get here.”

  Caleb held the talisman by its chain in front of the old woman’s eyes, which immediately glazed over.

  “Shut up.”

  She stared at the glittering disk.

  “It works fine,” Caleb murmured and turned his head toward the door that Eddie just walked through. “Why didn’t it affect him?”

  Caleb considered this as he made the old woman forget he interrupted her, or that he took twenty dollars out of the register.

  Caleb didn’t need the money. He just enjoyed doing little things like that.

  Twenty-One

  Riding the subway uptown gave Eddie a chance to delve into the thick book. It was a slow read, as the writer seemed enamored of his own elucidation.

  Eddie soon gave up on the opening chapter which put forth the author’s theory behind the use of talismans. Instead, he moved to the back of the book, which had drawings and photos of hundreds of various talismans from around the world.

  Eddie soon learned that talismans were made from almost anything: there were little figures carved out of ivory from Africa, with strange symbols added; there were tiger skin bracelets from India, with coins each showing pictographs of the ancient deities; there was a Mayan earring carved out of stone covered with unique designs.

  He closed the book and put it back in the paper bag, overwhelmed. If a talisman empowered Abraxas as Marlowe suggested, it could be almost anything and hidden almost anywhere.

  He decided if he talked to Marlowe, maybe they could narrow it down to only a few dozen possibilities. After all, he’d said that Abraxas had 365 personas. He couldn’t be every god in all the historic pantheons.

  He got off at 79th Street, looked up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and something touched his memory. There had been a robbery there of something ancient. He cracked the book to the heading, “Mayan Artifacts” and saw numerous small figurines, rings, and amulets carved from stone, and samples of pottery. He shut the book and decided he needed to do some follow-up on that robbery.

  Eddie entered the precinct and marched up the stairs to the second floor.

  I feel like a juggler with too many spheres, Eddie thought, and not enough hands.

  He found Luis at his desk studying a file.

  “We got the coroner’s report from Doctor Warren,” Luis didn’t look up as Eddie approached.

  “That’s good,” Eddie felt unexpectedly awkward with his partner. “Look, about this case…I mean the way I keep running off without you…”

  Luis looked up, a cold gleam in his eyes. He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Hey, you’re the lieutenant. If you don’t want to work with your partner, who is only a sergeant, you don’t have to.”

  Ouch, Eddie thought.

  “Luis, I’m real sorry to keep things from you,” Eddie said. “It’s just this case has gotten so…so…”

  Luis put the report down and faced Eddie. “Look, in the past we’ve chased our own tails in cases that looked like we wouldn’t ever get a suspect, let alone a conviction. But I felt I was part of the team. Suddenly, you wanna play ‘Lone Ranger,’ and I don’t feel like being Tonto.”

  “I…I…,” Eddie attempted.

  “I don’t know if it is your madre being sick, or seeing that head, or, I don’t know, sunspots. But you’ve changed, man. You’re leaving me out of the loop, and I’m mad as hell about it.”

  Eddie raised his head, and he could see it in his partner’s eyes. There was anger, but more than that. Luis was hurt and confused. Everything he held dear, his partnership with Eddie, the fact that they were equals, had been taken from him and it wounded him.

  Eddie ran his hand through his short curly hair that felt like steel-wool against his palm. “I don’t mean to shut you out, Luis. But, you’re right, this case has put me in a weird place. I’ve been trying to chase down leads, but they just keep getting stranger.”

  “Like what?” Luis’s expression was grim.

  Eddie dropped the large book on the table with a thud.

  “Talismans?” Luis glanced at the cover. “What does that have to do with murder?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Eddie thought fast to edit what he had learned. “But now I’ll give you my crazy theory.”

  Luis crossed his large arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”

  “I think this murder has to do with the occult.”

  Luis's brow knit in thought. “I’m not following you.”

  “The physical evidence—an attacker with huge hands with claws, cloven hoof prints—what does that sound like?”

  Luis shrugged. “Like someone raised the devil?”

  Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes, but what if they just wanted us to think so? I mean, maybe some guy on stilts, or hanging from ropes so they didn’t leave footprints—”

  “This doesn’t explain why you’ve been out on your own.”

  “I wanted to do some research. I needed to back this theory up with some evidence.”

  Luis shook his head. “The captain will never buy it.”

  “I guess it sounds crazy.”

  “No, it is crazy.”

  “Well, I’ve got an idea how we can check.” Eddie picked up the book, returned it to its paper sack and put it in his desk drawer. “Do you know anything about the Mayans?”

  “Yeah, they’re all dead,” Luis replied with an annoyed look. “Maybe you wanna find out who killed them?”

  “That’s not what I’m getting at. Wasn’t there an exhibit of South American artifacts at the Metropolitan Museum of Art?”

  “Right, the one that had stuff stolen, and we weren’t in on the investigation,” Luis moped.

  “Can you get a list of what was taken?”

  Luis considered it. “I know someone in robbery who could find out.”

  “And we may have a serial killer.”

  “Whadda ya mean?” Luis asked.

  “There’s been a second attack on a homeless guy. We’ve seen him around, black guy with gray hair and a beard named Trey. He always wears army camouflage, carries a broomstick.”

  “Was he the guy you went to see?”

  “Yes. He’s in Bellevue in a coma.”

  “But not torn apart? Why do you think he was attacked by the same perp?”

  Know it, Eddie thought, but I can’t tell you how.

  “He was found in the park, mistaken for dead. I think we should treat it like it’s the same perp using a different technique. We should go question the homeless again and try to—”

  “Oh geez,” Luis slapped his forehead. “I forgot to tell you. That crazy woman from the cardboard box showed up looking for you.”

  “What?” Eddie burst out. “You mean, Frisha?”

  “Yep, brought her big-ass spoon with her and everything. I got her stashed in interview room two—you know, the one with the best ventilation.”

  �
��How long has she been here?” Eddie decided she wouldn’t show up at a police station if it wasn’t important.

  “A couple of minutes before you got here. Doesn’t stink as bad as in her box, but whew!” Luis pinched his nose for emphasis. “She insisted that she talk to you. Only you.”

  Eddie nodded, “Maybe she saw something.” He moved toward the far end of the room.

  “You want me to observe through the one-way glass?” Luis offered.

  It felt right, the two of them side by side, a team once again. Eddie hated to ruin the moment. “I don’t want to spook her.”

  Luis nodded and turned back toward the desk. For once it appeared that he wasn’t taking it personally. “I’ll make that call about the artifacts.”

  Eddie went to the door of interview room two and entered. Frisha was taken aback for a moment, as if she didn’t expect him.

  Old girl’s slipping, Eddie thought. I shouldn’t be able to sneak up on a clairvoyant.

  He was surprised to find that there was no foul smell like at the box. In fact, the air was perfectly clear, and the room only carried the scent of old cigarettes that lingered in all the interview rooms.

  “Frisha, can I get you anything?” Eddie began.

  “No, thy coffee is lousy, and I doubt ye’ll get me a drink,” Frisha gave Eddie one of her toothless grins. “Though if you checked the desk of Detective Dominic, you’d find a half-empty bottle of bourbon. Come in, and sit by an old woman.”

  Eddie scanned the office, and certain that no one observed them, he entered the room and sat across the table from Frisha.

  “I cast off the odor,” Frisha said as way of introduction. “I do not need it for thee.”

  “Beg pardon?” Eddie was not sure what she was talking about.

  “Tis part of the disguise,” she muttered conspiratorially. “Makes the mortals shy back from us. Keeps ‘em from getting too close.”

  “So you just…whip it up?”

  “‘Tis an easy bit of trickery.”

  “How can I help you, Frisha?”

  She reached out and grabbed his arm with her leathery fingers. “There be danger, danger for thee.”

  “Abraxas?”

  She nodded vigorously. “I have seen, and what I have seen… ‘tis terrible.”

  “Frisha, just tell me what’s wrong. And skip the Oldspeak.”