by Arjay Lewis
“What is this?” Ahbay puzzled.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Eddie explained. “They have an agent who wants nothing more than to put my privates in a vise and squeeze.”
“Well, a tad vulgar,” Eugenia said brightly, “but it does make the situation clear.”
Everyone rose.
Bankrock fumed. “I told you we avoid confrontations with mortal law enforcement.”
“Shall we head for the woods?” Drusilicus proposed.
“We can’t go out the front.” Eddie grasped Marlowe’s arm. “We have to go out back.”
“Eddie, even if we go that way, we have to circle the house to get to the woods,” Marlowe confessed. “We cannot just transport ourselves from your backyard.”
“I got a birdbath,” Eddie advised. “Maybe we could wish our way out.”
“We would need a larger fountain.”
“I would hesitate to use teleportation,” Ahbay said. “It would weaken us before the battle, when we need all our strength.”
“But we still have no plan of action,” Eugenia complained.
“We can’t just stand here,” Eddie pleaded. “They could move in at any moment.”
Marlowe tapped his walking stick on the floor. “Wait a moment! All we need is a distraction.”
“So what’re you going to do?” Eddie asked. “Another illusion?”
“I have an idea! Let me use your mirror!” Marlowe walked quickly to the small bathroom under the stairs, went in, and shut the door.
As Marlowe left, Eddie glanced at the table and noticed the medallion that Caleb made and Marlowe so recently held was no longer in the center.
“Gone,” Eddie whispered.
Just at that moment, Luis fell into the room. He was pale, and Eddie ran to him, afraid he was having a heart attack.
“Luis!” Eddie helped his partner to a chair. “What is it, big guy?”
Luis’s mouth moved, yet nothing came out. He stared blankly.
“Is he having a vision?” Bankrock inquired.
“Shall I try a healing spell?” Drusilicus offered.
“Luis, it’s Eddie. What is it?”
Luis met Eddie’s eyes, and he grabbed his collar in one of his massive hands.
“Eddie, you have to help me,” Luis croaked.
“Anything, Luis, you know that,” Eddie replied.
Caleb handed Luis a glass of water, which he drank greedily.
“What is it, what did Maria say?” Eddie urged.
“It’s Rosita,” Luis looked at the floor as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Maria and the kids, they went for ice cream, that’s all, just ice cream. On their way home, they ran into this guy—Maria said he was wearing funny clothes, a big cape and a hood—he just came out of nowhere and grabbed Rosita.”
“Grabbed her?” Eddie exclaimed.
“Yeah, he held up this big stick, waved it and just…was gone. Maria is hysterical.” Luis he bent over at the waist as if he was going to be sick. “Madre de Dios! My Rosita, my little Rosita.”
Drusilicus put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie turned, and could see that the mocking quality that usually graced his eyes was gone.
“It appears,” Drusilicus spoke solemnly, “that our adversary has chosen his sacrifice.”
Fifty-Five
Outside of the Berman house, under the cover of darkness, men readied themselves inside their custom vans. Each was dressed in a black knit uniform with a tight-fitting hood. All were equipped with a bulletproof utility vest marked “FBI” in a lettering that couldn’t be seen except through night goggles.
Agent Conners moved his goggles up to his forehead and picked up his cell phone.
“Sir, we are in position,” Conners informed Wilcox.
“Good! I’m almost there. Has there been any activity at the house?”
“We still can’t look in, sir,” Conners reckoned. “It must be some kind of jamming device, because nothing on the second van worked either.”
“I’m two minutes out.” Wilcox hung up.
Conners sat back in his chair. It was peculiar with the second van. He went in and tried their audio and video equipment. All of it worked fine until it was focused on the Berman house. Then the video turned to snow, the remote listening device picked up static, and the cameras locked up and wouldn’t take pictures. Conners knew about technology, and couldn’t figure out what could freeze up digital cameras.
It would have to be very high tech, and what vendor could supply such cutting-edge equipment? The Middle East was oil-rich, but not technologically advanced. Russia? There were some world-class hackers there. But how did that involve Berman?
A black car with reflective glass pulled slowly down the street and parked in one easy movement. Wilcox exited the car.
He strode to the van, and Conners opened the door for the big man to enter.
“Are we set?” Wilcox demanded. He bent his head to avoid slamming it against the roof.
“Yes, sir, there are twelve men in place.”
Wilcox looked over at the technician, who sat in a chair and fiddled with a monitor that only showed different shades of gray that moved in annoying patterns.
“Why aren’t you suited up?” Wilcox said, and took off his suit jacket as Conners handed him a bulletproof vest.
The technician turned so suddenly his glasses almost fell off. “Me, sir?”
“Yes, you,” Wilcox told him. “Your toys are broken. Strap on a vest and play with the big boys.”
“Uh…thank you, sir,” sweat popped out on his forehead. “I need to be here, to…uh…make a record.”
“Your equipment doesn’t work,” Wilcox fastened the Velcro straps around his chest and sides to secure the vest.
“Well,” the technician swallowed hard, “I should be here in case it starts working again.”
Wilcox pulled out his cell phone and barked, “Do the phones and radios work?”
“Yes, sir,” the technician replied timidly. “Only surveillance equipment is affected when it’s pointed at the Berman house.”
Wilcox shook his head in disgust and pushed a button on the phone. “Sam, are you in place?”
“I am, sir,” Sam’s voice came back. “Right on the corner of Eighty-Fifth Street. I’m watching that townhouse with binoculars. I haven't seen anyone go in or out, but one strange thing occurred. A parade went by about an hour ago.”
“A parade?” Wilcox said.
“Yeah, strangest thing. I mean, it ain’t a holiday.”
“Just keep your eye on the townhouse,” Wilcox ordered, and hung up the phone. He then put out his hand, and Conners gave him a hand-held radio. Wilcox clipped it to his belt, donned an earpiece, and spoke into the microphone. “Team one, you ready?”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply.
“Team two?”
“In position, sir.”
“All right men, let’s move!” Wilcox commanded. He noiselessly jumped out the door of the van, and pulled his handgun from his shoulder holster. Conners lowered his night vision goggles and followed, a small submachine gun in his hands.
Wilcox could see doors open on the other vehicles, done so quietly the hinges made no sound. In the dim street lights, he watched two trained fighting units move toward the house.
Wilcox chose not to wear a hood or goggles. He wanted Berman to know who would bring him down; the same guy who set him up on the Viper case.
He didn’t know that when he tipped off Viper it would get Vasquez shot, but he didn’t really feel all that bad about it either. Berman wasn’t so smart, and he wanted him to end up on the shit-list. The reassignment to the Central Park Precinct should have humbled him, but here he was again. That man just wouldn’t learn.
Now he was going down. Wilcox was sure there was a statute somewhere within the Patriot Act he could use to charge Berman with a crime.
His men began to fan out. The orders were simple. Surround the house and move in.
&nbs
p; Wilcox signaled through hand gestures to three men, and pointed for them to go around to the back of the house.
They nodded, and began to rush toward the fenced backyard. Just before they reached the corner of the house, there was a “whoosh” in the air, and one of the men fell over with an “Oof!”
Wilcox touched his radio. “What the hell was that?” he whispered harshly.
“Not sure,” hissed a team leader. “Franz, you all right?”
“Something hit me,” the man on the ground said in a tight voice. “It packed a wallop.”
A shadow moved with another “whoosh” and the second agent fell to the ground with a yell.
“We’re under attack!” Wilcox bellowed into his radio, and knelt down. Conners crouched next to him as a man was picked up and thrown through the air.
“Christ!” Wilcox turned to Conners. “What is it, what do you see?”
“Something in the air, only a blur,” Conners gulped, as another man fell with a shout.
There was a short blast of muffled machine gun fire, and Wilcox heard a team leader yell, “Hold your fire, dammit, we’re in a neighborhood, not a war zone!”
“I can’t see what hit me, sir,” a voice said in Wilcox’s earpiece.
“Run for the house,” Wilcox enjoined.
“Which part?” came a murmur in his ear.
“Head for the goddamn front door! Knock it in if you have to.” Wilcox rose with Conners and in a low crouch, ran for the front of the house.
“Sir,” Conners announced, “I still can’t see— Ah!”
Conners rose in the air, a black creature on his chest. The creature itself was perhaps a foot-and-a-half long, but it had wings. The wings were at least six feet wide, tip to tip. It lifted Conners and tossed him aside like a rag doll, before rising silently into the darkness.
But Wilcox got a clear look at it, perhaps better able to see it without the night goggles.
“Bats!” Wilcox hollered. “My God, the biggest friggin’ bats I ever saw.”
“Bats can’t knock a man down,” came a reply.
“These can,” Wilcox shouted. “They’re the size of a Buick. Run!!”
Staying low, Wilcox sprinted for the door, hearing that hideous “whoosh” followed by a “thud” as a large flying mammal knocked another man down. He lifted his weapon and fired twice in the air.
“Bats.” Wilcox muttered. “Why’d it have to be b-bats?”
He focused his eyes on the front door and kept running, as he tried to clear his mind of the frightening images from his youth. There were always bats on the farm, and his brothers told him stories of how they got caught in your hair. He could feel the goose flesh on his arms as he heard another man fall and then another.
He wanted to shoot the obscenities, but they moved so fast, and he didn’t want to accidentally hit one of his men. That would not be perceived kindly by his supervisors.
A huge thing flapped by his ears, and Wilcox ducked and dodged, as a yelp of sheer horror escaped his throat. He could feel urine rush down his leg as he lost control of his bladder.
He reached the steps and moved like a bulldozer toward the door, ready to knock it down.
Only the door opened on its own, which made Wilcox stop, fall to the ground, and raise his weapon.
“Freeze! FBI!” he yelled. His hands shook so badly the pistol quivered in his grasp.
Eleanor Berman gently opened the door and looked down at Wilcox. “Are you all right, young man?”
“FBI! Put your hands in the air!”
Eleanor obediently raised her hands, a smile on her face. “I don’t think I’m very dangerous.”
Wilcox rose to his feet quickly and moved to the door.
“I don’t want to say anything,” Eleanor glanced at Wilcox’s crotch, her hands still up, “but I think you wet yourself.”
“Where is he?” Wilcox growled.
“Who, dearie?” Eleanor said.
“Berman!”
“Well, I’m Eleanor Berman if that’s any help. In fact, we are all Bermans here—”
“Eddie!” Wilcox demanded, “I want Eddie Berman!”
“He’s not here,” Eleanor said.
“Sir!” a voice came over the radio. “Possible suspects leaving the area!”
“Stay on them!” Wilcox snapped and turned as a huge leathery wing flapped past his head.
Wilcox screamed like a little girl, and dove through the open door into the house.
“Are you all right?” Eleanor asked, as the big man lay on the welcome mat quivering in revulsion.
∞∞∞
Eddie looked back down the street as Eugenia, Ahbay, Drusilicus, Bankrock, and Caleb entered the woods.
“I don’t think we’re being followed,” Eddie said to Luis and Marlowe, after his glance down the dark street. “Let’s get going.”
“Just a moment.” Marlowe put two fingers to his mouth and blew a long note. A huge bat swished through the air and landed on the ground. It covered itself with its wings and began to grow in size. The wings changed to arms, and in moments Daniel Kraft stood before them.
“Holy crap!” was all Luis could utter.
“We have them on the run,” Daniel confirmed. “I’ll call off the others.”
“Others?” Eddie glanced at Luis, who was still shocked at Daniel’s arrival.
“Yes, I brought along some friends,” Daniel smiled, his skin as pale as his teeth, setting off his dark hair and eyes. As he spoke, two other large bats flew to the ground and began to transform.
“I’m glad no one got shot,” Eddie said as the two forms became a short man with curly hair and a tall, sultry woman.
“Bullets can’t kill us,” Daniel remarked.
“Oh yeah,” Eddie said, sheepishly. “I knew that.”
The short man, recently a bat and now fully human-looking, stepped forward with great agitation. “But they sting!”
“You’re a vampire?” Luis said to Daniel with a glance at the smaller man. “A real vampire?”
Daniel gave Eddie a look that conveyed, “Who is this, and what turnip truck did he fall off of?”
“My apprentice, Luis,” Eddie said, as a way of explanation.
“Hey,” Luis remembered “You were the guy who attacked the demon…with the fangs.”
The shorter man drew close to Daniel, and hissed, “You didn’t say we were helping them.”
“Calm yourself, Tuck,” Daniel turned to the man who couldn’t have been more than five feet two. “I told you it was all a lark—”
“But we aided wizards!” Tuck spat out the last words. “Our sworn enemies”
“We are grateful for your assistance,” Marlowe expressed, his staff at the ready. “I have no wish for conflict between us this night.”
The tall woman, who wore a skimpy black dress, gently touched Tuck’s shoulders. “It is nothing. Let us go for now. We’ve had our fun.”
She glanced up at Luis like he was the world’s largest lollipop. “Unless you’d like some fun, my big man.” Her eyes turned an amazing shade of violet, and Luis’ mouth fell open hungrily, his own eyes staring. She reached out to wipe the sweat from his brow, and brought her fingers to her mouth to taste.
Eddie elbowed his partner in the side.
“Ow!” Luis grunted. “Uh…no…uh…thank you. We got to go.”
“The others shall hear of this,” Tuck sneered, then faced Marlowe. “No conflict now, wizard. But our time comes soon.”
He turned and ran off, his form shifting as he went, and a large bat was airborne and faded into the darkness.
“Lysandra,” Daniel addressed the lady, who still stared hungrily at Luis. “Perhaps I have overstepped my place.”
“Oh, ignore him, Daniel. Tuck is far too serious.” Her eyes immediately returned to Luis. She put a finger under his chin. “If you ever want the experience of a lifetime, my friend, come see me. You might not survive, but I shall make your sacrifice worth it.”
&nb
sp; She gave a girlish giggle, which seemed very out of place, then leapt high into the air, and flew off as a bat.
Luis gulped hard and shook his head, as if to wake from a dream.
“Daniel, can you join us?” Marlowe implored. “We must go to the park. Cleopatra’s Needle is the fifth talisman.”
“The obelisk?” Daniel said, his voice filled with awe. “I cannot. It is important to get my associates back to New York. I must keep an eye on them, so they don’t end up feeding on some housewife.”
Daniel turned, ran in the direction of Eddie’s house, became a black remnant in the darkness, and flew off under the beat of huge wings.
“Ohmigod!” Luis gasped. “They all turned into frickin’ bats!”
“I thought he was a much smaller bat the other night,” Eddie pointed out.
“He was,” Marlowe nodded. “Abraxas is not the only one who can alter his size and shape.”
The three men turned and trudged into the woods, Marlowe in the lead.
“Do you think Cerise and your mother can handle Wilcox and his men?” Luis asked.
“My momma’s tough,” Eddie said. He couldn’t get Cerise’s face out of his mind when he’d told her about Rosita. He saw fear shine brightly in her eyes, but she kept a brave face, and he loved her all the more for it.
“What else can this Daniel guy change into?” Luis finally said as they walked.
Marlowe glanced back at Luis. “Oh, the usual. Many sizes and type of bat. He can become a wolf, though when I’ve seen him, he looks more like a big dog. And he can dissolve into mist.”
“Can he be a snake?” Eddie said.
Marlowe stopped and faced Eddie, a frown on his face. “You think Daniel is in league with Abraxas?”
“I’m asking questions,” Eddie responded. “You know, my job? After all, we don’t know for sure it is a warlock. It could just be someone in wizard robes carrying a stick.”
Marlowe turned away and strode into the woods. “Enough.”
“You have to consider the fact,” Eddie insisted, “that there is a traitor in your midst.”
“It’s not Daniel,” Marlowe vowed adamantly. “I trust him with my life!”
“Isn’t that how you felt about Trefoil?” Eddie said.
Marlowe sighed. This thought seemed to tire him. “Yes, it was.” He stared up at the dark night sky.