The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy

by Arjay Lewis

  “Easy, Frisha, I didn’t survive the Dark Sleep to be smothered by you,” Trefoil griped.

  “Thought thou wert dead,” Frisha wailed. “Thought thy soul moved on to the next plane.”

  “It will, if you don‘t let go, woman,” Trefoil pushed the enveloping cloak from his face.

  “Forgi’e me, forgi’e me,” Frisha relaxed her grip on Trefoil and collapsed into a chair. “It’s just to see you like that, and knowing there t’were naught I could do!”

  She pulled a large, stained rag from her cloak and blew her nose in it.

  Bankrock cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Good evening, Eugenia, Ahbay.” He gave Eddie a withering look. “Mister Berman. Glad to see you back with us, Trefoil.”

  “Good to be here,” Trefoil acknowledged wearily.

  “I am sorry to intrude, but there was a powerful magickal event. I was, uh…surprised…when I found this townhouse was the source.”

  “It has been quite a night,” Ahbay said, a look of shock still on his face. He ran his hand through his wet hair, then gave a small wave of his cane and his robe transformed back into his suit, which was totally dry, and his hair tidied itself back into position.

  Eddie stood, waved his staff, and his clothes shifted to his suit, which was mostly dry. He moved to Trefoil, and asked, “Do you remember the attack?” He pulled his notebook from his pocket and opened it to find it dripping wet and unusable.

  “It’s all pretty misty for me,” Trefoil grunted, as Marlowe returned to the room through a side door, a cup of tea in his hands. “I was being attacked from above, then something bit me.”

  “A snake?” Eddie suggested.

  “I guess so. Tooth marks on my leg. I tried to heal them—”

  “That’s what put you into the Dark Sleep.” Marlowe set the tea in front of Trefoil. “The venom was designed to use your powers against you. Here, drink, it shall restore thee.”

  “Marlowe, my readings were very strange,” Bankrock advised. “However, I detected an event that registered a six-point-oh-two. I am going to require a statement from all witnesses present.”

  “Not now, Bankrock,” Marlowe considered the man testily.

  Bankrock raised himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much. “There are directives to be followed! Directives that you voted on—”

  “Could that venom explain what just happened?” Eddie queried. “Our energy reacted to it?”

  “I know the mixture used.” Marlowe shook his head. “Our combined power should have cleansed Trefoil of it instantly.”

  “You think it was something else?” Eddie proposed.

  “Yes,” Marlowe said. “I believe this was an attempt to steal the power of the Five.”

  The others stared in silence.

  “Another talisman?” Eddie asked.

  Marlowe rose and moved closer to Trefoil. “Do you carry any charms?”

  “Nope.” Trefoil sipped his tea. “You can examine me if you want.”

  “I suppose we should all eat.” Marlowe clapped his hands.

  From the doorway, a different, larger trolley with three chafing dishes rolled out. It was followed by another cart, which held a large salad bowl brimming with succulent greens, a stack of plates, and silverware wrapped in napkins.

  The two carts rolled quickly in and took positions not far from their table.

  “I understand your desire to be a good host,” Bankrock commented. “But if there has been an attempt to steal any wizard’s power, you need to file a ‘Supernatural Misappropriation Form C.’”

  “In due time, Bankrock.” Marlowe waved his cane in front of Trefoil. “Please help yourselves.”

  “Thank you, Marlowe,” Ahbay said. “However, this experience, has taken my appetite.”

  Frisha however, rose up and began to fill two plates.

  Eugenia sat with a languid look on her face, then all at once, noticed her wet clothes. “Is there a bathroom? I wish to freshen up.”

  Marlowe gestured to a nearby door for Eugenia, who toddled off. He then turned back to continue his examination of Trefoil.

  “To have such a thing happen inside the Coven Master’s residence. It is most troubling…” Ahbay pondered as he sat in his chair and stared into space.

  “That’s exactly my point,” Bankrock’s fingers felt for his tie, and not finding one, he touched a cat’s eye finger ring to his shirt, and one appeared.

  Marlowe finished with Trefoil, lowered his cane, and sat down.

  “I was hopin’ for a haircut and a shave, while you were at it,” Trefoil quipped.

  “Sorry, my friend.” Marlowe leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Anything there?” Eddie questioned.

  “Nothing from Trefoil.” Marlowe opened his eyes. “And yet… there is…something.”

  “Aye, Marlowe.” Frisha put a plate of food in front of Trefoil. “I can see nary a thing, let me tell you. Do thee know what ‘tis like to be a prophetess and naught get one clear vision? I’d say you don’t.”

  “I am having trouble as well.” Bankrock removed a small crystal ball from his pocket. “At first, I had trouble getting an exact location of the event that just occurred. Once I found it was this house, I assumed the magickal energies were involved in helping Trefoil…”

  Marlowe began to wave his stick again. “It isn’t that! There is something that disrupts my power. Do any of you feel drained?”

  Ahbay nodded and Eddie shrugged.

  “Ah! Now thou knowst what I’ve been goin’ through,” Frisha blurted. “Not to mention that the bed you’ve given me makes me back ache. I’ll tell you, ‘tis terrible. But, ye wish to speak of things that do not concern a simple wizard as meself, I’ll keep a watch at the door.”

  Frisha left the room, her plate of food balanced in one hand.

  “If it was a talisman,” Marlowe confessed. “I cannot locate it.”

  “What talisman could possibly do that? I know of none.” Bankrock shook his head.

  “Could it be the Great Evil?” Ahbay said. “Has he found a way to attack us here?”

  “You were correct Marlowe.” Eugenia stepped into the room, dry and coifed. “Things are indeed different.”

  “Eugenia!” Trefoil stabbed his food with a fork. “You look good!”

  “How come we just dried ourselves, and you needed a bathroom?” Eddie said.

  “Obviously.” Eugenia forced a smile. “I didn’t stay in such good shape for five hundred years without the aid of a mirror.”

  “Now we are assembled, the Five is whole again,” Marlowe said, and looked at Trefoil. “Much has happened in the last few days.”

  “Do tell!” Trefoil said as he ate.

  “First, let me tell you of what we are certain. Our foe is indeed Abraxas, released to this earth through the Amulet of Abracadabra. This release was accomplished through the aid of two foolish apprentices, with the help of a warlock.”

  Bankrock stood up straight. “A warlock! Why wasn’t I informed of this immediately!”

  “We only found out this morning,” Marlowe said.

  “If there is a warlock operating outside the control of the coven,” Bankrock turned pale, “he must be stopped.”

  “A warlock doesn’t explain what happened upstairs,” Eugenia insisted, and turned to Eddie. “We are all thankful for your quick actions, Edward.”

  “You keep talkin’ ‘bout that. What happened?” Trefoil finished the last bite of his victuals.

  “When we combined our powers a force took over,” Ahbay reported. “We could not move, yet Eddie pulled his staff free, broke the circle, and released us.”

  Eddie smiled shyly. “Being a cop, you learn to stay cool in an emergency.”

  Trefoil did not look pleased. “Didn’t anyone tell you how dangerous it is to break a circle in the middle of a spell?”

  “His ignorance saved us,” Marlowe said. “The rest of us knew the danger and took no action. Eddie freed us. If not, we all co
uld have ended up in the Dark Sleep.”

  “Even so,” Bankrock lectured. “Trefoil is correct. If Eddie had gone through basic training, he would know—”

  “Well, he didn’t,” Trefoil argued. “And that demon will use his inexperience against him, against us all.”

  Eddie sat up straight. “Sounds to me like he used your experience against you. He poisoned you, and then something happened so all of us were affected. If a warlock is working with him, he knows how you guys operate. The only way you can beat Abraxas is to act in ways he won’t expect. We have to think outside the box.”

  Trefoil rose. Ahbay stood to help him, but Trefoil waived him away. “Listen to this, wet behind the ears and lecturing us! Look, Newling, each of us has defeated demons before and you ain’t done shit.”

  “I see no reason to curse,” Bankrock clucked.

  Trefoil glanced at the little man, then returned his gaze to Eddie. “I’m tired, and I want to sleep. Normal sleep.” He held his staff, walked to the door, and turned to add one point. “Eddie, if you took on Abraxas tonight, you don’t know enough to even slow him down.”

  He walked out of the room, as the others looked embarrassed by his outburst.

  “He is tired,” Ahbay explained. “And he was defeated while you were not. That must—how do you say—stick in his craw.”

  Eddie nodded and glanced at his watch. “Yeah, but right now, we have to go to that meeting. We’ve got four of the Five. I hope that’s enough.”

  “We cannot confront the demon this night,” Ahbay stated.

  “I thought that was the plan,” Eddie insisted.

  The others glanced guiltily at each other and would not meet his eyes.

  “What is it?” Eddie held out his hands. “Come on, you said we were going to hunt down the demon tonight. Let’s do it!”

  “We are all weakened from what transpired upstairs,” Marlowe said. “Each of us has lost some of our power.” He looked at Eugenia and Ahbay. “What say you?”

  Ahbay and Eugenia nodded in agreement.

  “Trefoil is too infirm to meet such a challenge,” Marlowe worried. “It would be foolishness itself to go up against the Great Evil.”

  “It is even worse to face him at a time and place of his own choosing,” Eugenia pleaded. “This could be a trap!”

  “She has a point,” Marlowe agreed. “The warlock may have influenced this Cuccolo fellow to contact you.”

  “We have to take that chance,” Eddie exclaimed.

  “I disagree,” Bankrock said. “I have brought research Marlowe requested. Our best course of action would be to read through it and form a long-term plan.”

  “None of the plans you guys came up with have worked so far,” Eddie answered. “Look at you! Super-powered wizards, and you don’t have a clue! Cuccolo won’t stand a chance.”

  “If he doesn’t bring the talisman,” Marlowe said. “Perhaps the demon will not reveal himself.”

  “Or he’ll get really pissed and kill Cuccolo for the hell of it,” Eddie seethed.

  “Eddie,” Marlowe explained, “the blood sacrifice is to release the potency of each talisman.”

  Eddie turned to Marlowe, his eyes aflame. “So that’s why the murders? He needs to kill each time he gets one of these baubles?”

  “That’s not the point. The demon could seek to make one of us the next sacrifice.” Marlowe glanced to Eugenia and Ahbay.

  “I take that risk every day. It doesn’t change ‘cause the bad guys get badder.” Eddie set his jaw. “You guys are just scared.”

  Marlowe and the others stared at the floor.

  “Wow, the first time it doesn’t go your way, you run and hide.” Eddie shook his head, rose and moved for the door. “Well, I’m gonna face him down.”

  “Eddie, no.” Marlowe stood to block his egress. “I beg you, do not do this.”

  “I have to.”

  “I told you of my apprentice.” Marlowe’s face became a deep crimson. “When things went horribly wrong, I warned him that his choices would bring a terrible fate, as it did. I do not want your choices to destroy you, Eddie.”

  Eddie stared into the old man’s eyes. He could see the concern and the fear. “Protect and serve. It’s the only reason I joined you guys.”

  He walked from the room and the front door banged closed a moment later.

  “He certainly doesn’t lack courage.” Eugenia sighed.

  “He could be killed,” Ahbay added.

  “He could get us all killed!” Marlowe muttered. “And then who remains to fight?”

  Thirty-Six

  Luis found it hard to keep his eyes open as he sat in his parked car in the late spring air. Eddie had gone into the townhouse hours ago, and after the strange man and woman went in, little had occurred.

  Luis noticed some strange coruscation in an upper window at one point, like someone taking flash photographs, and the curtains fluttered and bucked as if from a breeze. But, the movement had not been enough to give him a glimpse of the interior, even with his binoculars. Strangely enough, droplets of water appeared on the glass, as if a storm occurred inside the house.

  Luis sat back in his seat and thought it would soon be time for a cup of coffee and a restroom break.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Vasquez.”

  “Luis, when are you comin’ hoooome?” whined Maria in his ear.

  “Maria, I’m on stakeout. I tol’ you I was workin’ a case tonight.”

  “Luis, you promised to take me out for dinner two weeks ago. I’ve been cooped up in this house with your children…”

  As Luis recalled, she had been a healthy participant in the act of creating their six kids, but he also knew it would be foolish to mention that at this particular moment.

  “I know, baby, I know. But a big shot got himself murdered, and we all got to work overtime. You know I can’t talk about it, ’specially not over the phone.”

  “I don’ see you no more! And what do I tell the kids? They want their papa. You know how the boys get when you’re not around.”

  Luis, in spite of himself, felt a lump in his throat. He missed the children, too. His four-year-old, Rosita, was one of those dream children everyone wishes for. No matter how bad his mood when he got home, she would climb into his lap, give him a hug, and his cares would vanish.

  He also missed the rambunctious boys: Manuel, who was ten, Roberto, eight, and Julio, six. Each was a handful, but they looked up to him worshipfully as if he was an ancient god arrived from Mount Olympus. They loved their mother, but he was the one who kept them in line.

  Luis was familiar with how quickly their attitudes became snotty and their chores slovenly if he wasn’t there to remind them how men should behave.

  Lastly, the littlest girls, Bonita, two and-a-half, who he called Bonnie, and Cerista, about to be one, named in honor of his partner’s wife.

  Six children, all under the age of eleven. He and Maria would have a blessed event every two years or so, which made the priest of their local church in the Bronx claim that they were good Catholics.

  Luis didn’t mind. He came from a large family and adored each child, but he knew how it could overwhelm Maria. Always one child in diapers, usually one on the breast, and all of the falls and hurts and arguments, while he spent his days finding killers in the city’s dark underbelly.

  Luis knew that despite their mutual hot tempers, they each saw the other as an oasis from their difficult jobs. Hers, bringing life into the world, and his, finding justice for those who’d lost theirs.

  This week was rough. He’d been home late every night, and Eddie going off the deep end was an unnecessary burden.

  “Call Cerise,” Luis suggested. “Maybe she can come by. You know she’s always happy to help out.”

  “She’s takin’ care of Eddie’s madre, Luis. I need you. I miss you,” Maria said, then her voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper. “I want you.”

  Luis felt a stirring in his loins. The
y had both been so busy in the last few weeks that they didn’t have a chance to be intimate. Luis suddenly felt this self-imposed stakeout was a waste of time, and he was ready to go home to the loving arms of his wife. They would probably argue first, which was Maria’s favorite foreplay, usually followed by an energetic bout in the bedroom.

  Then in the morning, he could hug his children and kiss them all before coming back to work.

  Luis saw the door of the townhouse open and Eddie walked out.

  “Jeez!” Luis said, his wife’s entreaties forgotten. “Gotta go!”

  He pushed the ‘END’ button on his phone before Maria could protest. His eyes never left Eddie as he descended the steps and turned toward Central Park.

  Luis slid his bulky body down in the car, safe in the shadows. Eddie was far too focused to notice him.

  Eddie headed downtown. Luis got out of the car, and took a backward look to the townhouse to make sure no one else came out. Then, he followed his partner down the shadowy sidewalk lit only by the occasional street lamp.

  Unaware of being followed, Eddie turned into the park in the direction of the carousel. He reflected on the fact that as a boy, his father brought him there on his infrequent days off.

  “New York is not only the greatest city in the world,” his father had told him, “it’s the greatest place to be a kid.”

  The carousel lay housed in an eight-sided brick building with a copper roof not far from the Central Park Zoo. The sides of the octagon were decorated with bricks in rows of red and yellow, which matched the Playmates Arch, a walkway under the East Drive. It originally housed a small, hand-driven merry-go-round. During a major renovation in 1907 when electric lampposts were put in, a larger carousel from Coney Island was installed.

  When Eddie rode the wooden horses in the 1980s, they had grown seedy and the entire structure was in disrepair.

  In the 1990s, the Central Park Zoo underwent a major transformation, as did the carousel, which was recognized for the craftsmanship of its fanciful hand-carved menagerie and brass-tube calliope.