The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

  “Say what?”

  “None of this was originally here. Not the ball fields, not Turtle Pond, not even the hills. It was all built. Did you know that?”

  Luis shrugged. “Never occurred to me.”

  They wandered further along the path, and Eddie looked up at the tall stone obelisk that rose above the trees. He felt attracted to it somehow.

  “Cuccolo,” Eddie muttered.

  “Do you think Akio knows who he is?”

  “Why else would he be scared?” Eddie admitted. “Alfonso Cuccolo, operator with the Avecchio crime family.”

  “Not good, Eddie,” Luis divulged. “He’s got the FBI all over him, and more lawyers than I got kids.”

  “I’ll call the captain, and you call to see how soon Beverly will have info for us.”

  Luis nodded, and as if they were gunslingers in an old western movie, they both whipped out their cell phones, dialed, and spoke. Though right next to each other, they stood worlds apart.

  “Cuccolo?” Captain Jacob responded to Eddie, “The Feds won’t let us near him—”

  “I’m only one person,” Beverly decried. “Do you have any idea how many cases I have down here? How dare you put me in charge of forensics without asking me!”

  Eddie and Luis wheedled, cajoled, and begged their individual associates to give them what they needed.

  “All right, you can talk to Cuccolo. Just talk,” Jacobs proclaimed. “Only to see if he knows Yamasuto, nothing more.”

  “I can have something for you by three o’clock, maybe two,” Beverly grumbled. “You guys owe me big time for this one.”

  As if they planned it, both men managed to end their calls at the same time. They returned the implements of the modern road-warrior to their pockets, and smiled at each other, just as they exited the park and set foot on the pavement of Central Park West.

  “We can talk to Cuccolo,” Eddie said.

  Luis nodded. “Beverly can see us after two.”

  Eddie checked his watch. It was noon.

  “I’ve got to meet someone. Why don’t we meet at two, talk to Beverly, then go have a chat with Alfonso?”

  “You doing something about the case, or are you seeing your chippy?”

  “Would you stop with the ‘chippy’ stuff?” Eddie said and felt hot around the collar. “For all I know, you killed Yamasuto to keep an eye on me.”

  “Swords aren’t my style. Now, if he’d been beaten to death with a tire iron…” Luis suggested. His eyes suddenly fixed on an approaching man. “Hold up.”

  Eddie turned to see Jason Wilcox draw near, flanked not only by his shadow, Sam, but another man as well. This new man, a little over thirty with a receding hairline, was tall, but more thin and lithe than Wilcox.

  “Well, Berman and Vasquez, the bumbling detectives,” Wilcox mocked. “I’m on my way to your crime scene. Second time this week.”

  “That’s good, Wilcox, they should have the blood cleaned up by now,” Eddie confirmed. “So you won’t get a tummy ache.”

  “Says the man who loses control of bodily functions over a severed head,” Wilcox gave a wink to Sam and the new man. The older man lit another cigarette and guffawed appreciatively. The other man merely smiled.

  “You want something Wilcox, or do you just like to annoy people who actually work?” Luis chided.

  “City Hall wants this case solved, as does Homeland Security. And now, yours truly is officially on the case. In fact, I’ve been given some extra men.” Wilcox pointed in the direction of the third agent. “This is Phil Conners.”

  “The musician?” Luis asked.

  “He’s Collins, different job,” Conners said with a well-practiced delivery. He must have responded to that question a hundred times.

  “I’ve been assigned a dozen men,” Wilcox bragged.

  ”Before you get caught up in your crowing, Wilcox,” Eddie speculated. “Don’t forget it’s our case.”

  “Berman,” Wilcox leaned close. “If there isn’t some serious movement by the end of the weekend, everybody except the marines will be involved. The advantage the FBI has—”

  “Hey man,” Luis badgered, “You keepin’ information from the NYPD?”

  Wilcox opened his hands in a gesture of subservience. “What could you mean, sergeant? I’m under a different jurisdiction. I have to keep things from you. It’s my job.”

  “Thanks for the ‘heads up,’” Eddie grumbled. “Let’s go, Luis.”

  “I want copies of your reports by this afternoon,” Wilcox handed Eddie a business card. “Fax ‘em, e-mail ‘em, or hand-deliver them to Federal Plaza. I trust you know where it is?”

  “Wall Street area, right?” Luis jeered. “As far from the action as possible.”

  “You’ll get your reports, Wilcox,” Eddie assured. “You’ll have to wait until we get the physical evidence from the ME.”

  “Before five o’clock, Berman,” Wilcox demanded. “No matter what your opinion of me or the Bureau—you hold me up and I’ll slap you down.”

  “Good to see you reverting to your regular style,” Eddie pointed out. “You were almost polite for a minute. C’mon Luis.”

  Eddie turned and Luis gave one dirty look toward Wilcox, and walked off.

  With a nod to Sam and Conners, Wilcox continued in the direction of the East Side.

  “Sir,” Conners asked as they walked, “Is it wise to create animosity with the NYPD?”

  “It’s fine, Conners,” Wilcox surmised. “You need to let them know where they stand. Those two are trouble.”

  As Eddie and Luis stood on Central Park West watching them go, Luis said under his breath, “Next time we see him, I want to punch him, just once.”

  “Remember what your mother said about the neighborhood bully. Just ignore him,” Eddie instructed.

  “My madre never tol’ me that.”

  “So, what did you do about bullies?”

  Luis shrugged. “I beat the hell out of them.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Eddie walked with Luis back to the "22", where he made copies of Akio’s drawing and picked up Talismans Through the Ages from his desk drawer. He slipped a copy between the pages of the book, and with it under his arm, Eddie left the precinct and soon climbed the stairs of Marlowe’s townhouse.

  In answer to his knock, the door was opened by Frisha, still dressed in her flowing robes, although she looked disheveled.

  “Frisha, how are you? Visions any clearer?”

  She brought a hand to her head. “More confused than e’er. I’m tryin’ to wait ‘till I can see things plain.”

  “Maybe that’s best,” Eddie suggested.

  “There is something…that’s tryin’ to come to light…” her voice faded at the end.

  “What?” Eddie asked.

  “I don’t know, keeps changing,” Frisha rubbed her forehead. “Oooh, I need to mix a potion—”

  Eddie decided she’d imbibed a few too many potions the night before. He wandered through the huge entrance hall and entered the large living room.

  Marlowe sat in a wing-backed chair before one of the empty fireplaces. Eddie was surprised at how old he looked. “Is it Trefoil?”

  Marlowe shook his head, and Eddie exhaled with relief. Marlowe then gestured to a chair next to him.

  They sat in silence for a moment as Marlowe watched the barren fireplace, as if logs kindled in the expanse.

  “I am an old fool,” Marlowe finally spoke.

  “I don’t think so,” Eddie pulled out the copy of the sketch of the statuette. “This look familiar to you?”

  Marlowe looked at it, but registered no surprise.

  “Amatsu Mikaboshi, the Shinto god of evil,” Marlowe’s eyes rested on the drawing. “Do you know the mythology?”

  Eddie whipped out his notebook and was scribbling the name down. “Uh no, I was planning to look it up. I got a book.”

  Marlowe glanced at the book cover. “Don’t bother, it won’t be in there. You’ll find v
ery little about him anywhere. Amatsu Mikaboshi was considered such a monster that most of his deeds were stricken from the holy writings.”

  “Do tell,” Eddie said.

  “Do you know how he was finally removed from a reign of terror in Ancient Japan?” his eyes returned to the fireplace. He went on, not waiting for a reply. “He was cast out by five wise men, great in learning and odd to look upon.”

  “An early version of the Five?” Eddie said, more of a statement than a question.

  Marlowe nodded. “Different people, yes. It was long before my time. In every culture throughout the world, Abraxas has sought dominance using different names, different forms, and each time he is tracked down and cast out by the Five.”

  “And this time as well!” Eddie hoped he sounded surer than he felt. “We just have to get Trey on his feet—”

  “This time is different, as I told you last night, there is a Warlock in our midst, who is helping the Great Evil. That statue is an ancient talisman of great power, and the victim was manipulated into bringing it into Central Park.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  A gong resounded three loud tones, which echoed through the hall.

  “I contacted someone we must speak to,” Marlowe eyes went to the doorway. Eddie rose from his chair. He could faintly hear echo voices of Frisha, and others. He glanced at Marlowe who raised an eyebrow and waited.

  Through the doorway walked Drusilicus with his gray-black hair loose, and in what looked to be a thousand dollar suit. By his side walked a young man dressed in black, who glanced about the room in awe.

  Eddie recognized the young man immediately. “Hey! You’re the kid from ‘Magickal Cherub.’ What is he doing here?”

  The young man turned to Drusilicus and pointed at Eddie. “What is he doing here?”

  Drusilicus gave them both a withering look.

  Marlowe rose from his chair. “You know him, Eddie?”

  “He sold me that book, and tried to pull something with an amulet—”

  “Oh yeah?” the young man spat, his eyes aflame, “he’s a cop!”

  Drusilicus held up his hand, and the young man quieted. “When spoken to—”

  “But, he’s a—”

  “We are fully aware of Lieutenant Berman’s position in the police force,” Drusilicus interrupted. “I told you that we were meeting wizards today and I spoke the truth.”

  “He’s a cop and a wizard?” Caleb puzzled.

  “Yes, now hush.”

  The young man hung his head like a naughty dog.

  “Marlowe and Lieutenant Berman, forgive the outburst.” Drusilicus smiled wanly. He gestured to the young man, who still watched his feet. “This is my apprentice, Caleb.”

  Caleb gave a polite bow. “I live to serve and learn at your feet.”

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Drusilicus,” Marlowe said.

  “Yes, and I must admit, I admire your courage, Marlowe,” Drusilicus closed the distance between himself and the two men. “And you, lieutenant, it takes a truly wise man to know when he is out of his depth.”

  “Say what?” Eddie replied.

  Drusilicus grasped Eddie’s hand warmly. “Tut, tut, lieutenant. I am sure your decision to pass the Staff of Fire to an experienced wizard was difficult, but it is best to know one’s limitations. And Marlowe, no apology is necessary.”

  “Drusilicus!” Marlowe bellowed. “I called you here to speak to you about your apprentice.”

  “Ah.” Drusilicus glanced back to Caleb. “Of course, you are concerned about who will receive my staff. I want to assure you that despite his inability to hold his tongue, Caleb is quite—”

  Eddie looked at Marlowe. The older man grew very red in the face, and appeared as if any moment he was going to explode.

  “It is not Caleb I wish to speak of!” Marlowe shouted. “Tell me of Alex.”

  “Alex?” Eddie repeated.

  “Alex?” Drusilicus was stunned by the older man’s reaction. “He moved beyond this level of existence.”

  “Yes, Drusilicus, I know he’s dead.”

  “What does that have to do with the lieutenant relinquishing his staff?” Drusilicus’ expression grew hard.

  “Nothing!” Marlowe snapped. “Now, sit down!”

  Two large chairs rose up across the room and flew over and behind Drusilicus and Caleb. They sat as they watched Marlowe, suspiciously.

  “You have more than one apprentice, the Divine only knows why!” Marlowe accused.

  “It is my right!” Drusilicus argued.

  “By Zoroaster, you mislead them. A true wizard only takes on an apprentice when he is ready to leave this plane, as Greywacke the First did with you. But, on the other hand, you take on students, with no intention of giving them a staff.”

  Drusilicus reddened and leaned closer. “It is wise to train an apprentice. Only then can he be ready if a staff becomes available.”

  “Which seldom happens,” Marlowe corrected.

  “Who are you to judge me?” Drusilicus puffed his chest out. “It is well known that your apprentice almost destroyed you.”

  “Oh, enough of ancient history!” Marlowe smacked his walking stick against the marble floor. “You do it for your own vanity, giving this world a foolish young man who knows too much of our ways, but not enough to help anyone.”

  Drusilicus arose and stared at Marlowe with blazing eyes “If you wish to complain about my practices we can bring it before the coven!”

  “Very well,” Marlowe shot back. “I wonder how the coven will react when I tell them your apprentices unleashed the monster we now face!”

  They stood silent.

  “Time out,” Eddie held his hands in the traditional “T” formation. “What are you talking about, Marlowe?”

  The old man shifted his glance to Caleb, who sat very still.

  “You know,” Marlowe focused on Caleb. “There is no need to deny it. Last night I raised Alex’s spirit. He told me of the last moments of his life.”

  Caleb’s lips grew tight. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  Drusilicus frowned. “You never spoke of this to me.”

  “You might think I had something to do with it,” Caleb fretted.

  “But you were there,” Marlowe charged. “Perhaps at the bidding of your master?”

  Drusilicus jumped from his chair. “Do you accuse me of releasing Abraxas upon this world?” he glanced sidelong at Eddie. “And in front of this…this…”

  “I’d be careful if I were you, buddy,” Eddie warned as he rose from his seat.

  “…this Newling!” Drusilicus shouted.

  Eddie was surprised at the unfamiliar word. “What did you call me?”

  “It means you’re a beginner,” Caleb jeered.

  “Oh!” Eddie was almost disappointed. He wanted it to be an insult, or at least a racial slur, so he could clock Drusilicus.

  Marlowe went on. “You are here with the lieutenant because he is both a wizard and the police officer assigned to the murder of Riftstone. Last night, another was killed by the demon.”

  “Another wizard?” Drusilicus’ face grew pale.

  “No, a mortal. However, I believe the secret of Abraxas’ newfound power rests within your apprentice’s memory. If we relive it, it will help us to take the appropriate action.”

  “Oh no,” Caleb rose from his chair. “I don’t want him getting in my head—”

  Sit down!” Drusilicus barked and Caleb returned to his seat. “You have no right to complain. You never told me you witnessed Alex’s death.” He returned his focus to Marlowe. “If I allow this, you must limit your probing only to that night. Do you know the date?”

  “May first,” Marlowe declared.

  “So mote it be,” Drusilicus replied solemnly.

  Caleb shook his head. “Master—”

  “Silence,” Drusilicus intoned in a quiet, but firm voice.

  “Wait a minute,” Eddie asked. “What are you g
oing to do?”

  “We are going to share a memory with Caleb,” Marlowe explained. “See all he saw and be aware of everything as he experienced it.”

  “Really?” Eddie whispered to Marlowe. “We can do that?”

  “Yes,” Drusilicus interjected. “But it must be done carefully.”

  “What happens if you’re not careful?” Eddie inquired.

  “Brain damage,” Drusilicus remarked simply.

  Caleb grew very pale.

  “I am well practiced.” Marlowe changed the cane by his side into his staff. “You three pull close and join hands.”

  “Master, I do not wish—” Caleb beseeched in a low voice.

  “You will cooperate,” Drusilicus snapped.

  Eddie, Drusilicus, and Caleb pulled their chairs close and joined hands, as Marlowe stood behind Caleb, and placed his free hand on the young man’s head.

  “Wait!” Caleb reached under his shirt to pull off several silver disks that hung from chains around his neck. He placed them on the floor as Marlowe raised an eyebrow.

  “The boy carries many talismans,” Marlowe declared with suspicion.

  “It is not an unusual way to practice and learn,” Drusilicus expounded, though he seemed a bit surprised by the number himself.

  The three men joined hands again, and Marlowe returned his hand to Caleb’s head.

  “Close your eyes, and relax,” Marlowe instructed. “Allow your mind to go back.”

  Eddie sat with his eyes closed, and felt weightless. The room fell away around him. All at once, he found himself in Central Park on a beautiful day, in the late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows all about.

  Eddie looked over and saw Marlowe, Drusilicus, and Caleb standing next to him. A few feet away stood another Caleb. Eddie did a double-take at the Doppleganger.

  “How the hell?” Eddie muttered.

  “We experience Caleb’s memory in the role of observers, Eddie,” Marlowe explained. “It allows us to perceive all he deported, without invading his mind.”

  “Why not?” Eddie asked.

  “If we shared his memory through his eyes, we might influence those memories. As I’ve told you, remembrances are simple to manipulate. This way we shall not alter his.”

  “Man!” Caleb peered about. “Master, I’ve never done this.”