The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe

by Simon Hawke

  “Head, hand, and heart,” Natasha murmured. “So that’s why you read like you’re so much older than you really are. You’ve become united with the spirits of the Council, in the stone. But where do Billy and Sebastian fit in?”

  “I was getting to that,” said Wyrdrune. “The Dark Ones weren’t able to escape right away. They were weak from all those centuries of confinement, and they were using their acolyte to kill for them and funnel the life energies of his victims to them. When we became united with the stones, we suddenly knew the whole story and we realized we had to stop them. We had no choice. We almost got there in time. Merlin got there just ahead of us. He tried to fight them off until we could arrive and manifest the power of the Living Triangle, but they overwhelmed him and he died. We managed to get some of them, but some escaped. We don’t know how many. But we thought we had lost Merlin.”

  “What they didn’t know was that Merlin had left his body in his astral spirit, in a last-ditch effort to save his soul,” Billy said. “He drifted for a while, until he found me. I was an orphan living on the streets in London, in and out of jail most of my young life. I was just fourteen. And then suddenly, one day, I awoke to find myself possessed. I thought 1 was going crazy. But it was Merlin’s spirit. He had entered me because I was his descendant. Nimue, the witch who had seduced him for Morgana, had borne his child. In the beginning, we did not exactly get along too well. I wanted no part of him. It was just as difficult for him, suddenly finding himself in the body of a juvenile delinquent.” Billy smiled. “Eventually, I met these two, and immediately knew who they were, because Merlin had known them, of course. And we’ve been together ever since, trying to track down the surviving Dark Ones. As for Sebastian… well now, trying to explain Sebastian is a bit of a trick.”

  “Modred and Sebastian have known each other for years,” said Wyrdrune. “A lot of years.”

  “And Gorlois?” Natasha said. “Why do I have the feeling he’s here, too?”

  “Because he is,” said Billy, tapping his chest. “In here. Magic often works in mysterious ways. Call it fate, call it serendipity, or forces we don’t completely understand, but his ring came into my possession and once I put it on, I couldn’t get it off. I became the repository of both Merlin’s spirit and that of his father, whom Merlin had helped Uther kill. It was not exactly the happiest of family reunions. It was like being a split personality until I was attacked and mortally wounded by one of the Dark Ones in New Mexico. I would have died, but Merlin and Gorlois gave up their life forces to fuse them with mine, in order to save my life. You might say I’m sort of a magical mutation, three different personalities blended into one. I aged in the process, and my entire physical appearance changed rather dramatically.”

  “And Modred? What became of him?” Natasha asked. “I somehow get the impression that you were Modred,” she added, looking at Wyrdrune with a puzzled expression. “But after what you’ve said…”

  “Your impression is right on,” said Wyrdrune. “I was Modred. We tracked one of the Dark Ones to Tokyo, Japan, and while we were there, Modred was attacked and killed. His runestone absorbed his life essence and bonded with me. Up until yesterday, we shared the same body, and Modred was able to manifest physically through me. But when we were attacked, Modred manifested and took the brunt of it. We thought it killed him. It almost killed me. But now we know he’s still alive and out there somewhere.”

  “What makes you so certain?” asked Natasha.

  “The runestones,” Wyrdrune said. “If he were dead, Kira and I would feel it. There’s a link between us. And then there’s what you told us about that police detective who participated in the raid on our penthouse. There was a story about him on the news this evening. He was supposedly brain dead, but right after they disconnected the life-support machinery, he got up and left the hospital. When we heard that, we knew that if he really was dead, then the only way he could have revived is if Modred’s runestone bonded with him.”

  “On the other hand, it could be a trap set by the B.O.T. to draw us out,” said Kira.

  “They did not release his name,” said Billy. “If it was a trap, the Bureau would have given out more information.”

  “Angelo,” Natasha said suddenly.

  “What?” said Billy.

  “The detective who was taken to the hospital. His name was Angelo. I just remembered that McGuire mentioned it, but I don’t know his first name. I wasn’t trying to read McGuire, and even if I was, all the impressions I was being bombarded with would have distracted me.”

  “Well, at least that’s something,” Wrydrune said. “It’s certainly more than we had before.”

  “More coffee?” asked Broom.

  “Thanks, Broom,” said Wyrdrune wearily, holding out his cup.

  “Oh, so now it’s ‘thanks, Broom,’ is it? Where was all your gratitude when you just took off and left me?”

  “Broom, not now, okay?”

  “Sure, never mind me. I’m just a servant around here; I don’t count for anything. Nobody ever thinks of me. So what if I have to drag my old bristles all over the city trying to find you?”

  “Drag what bristles? You took a cab, for crying out loud!”

  “You ever try riding in a taxicab when you can’t bend over to sit down? And the way that cabbie drove, it’s lucky we made it here in one piece, I’m telling you.”

  “Broom, put a lid on it, will you?” Wyrdrune said with exasperation.

  “You hear the way he talks? That’s the thanks I get for slaving over a hot stove for his supper, doing his laundry, mending the holes in his socks, making his bed every day, and fluffing up his pillows…”

  “Broom!”

  “All right, all right, I’m going already,” said Broom, sweeping back into the kitchen in a petulant huff. “So what if I get dishpan hands and dustballs in my bristles? I’m only a poor, old broom, just prop me in the closet and leave me there, all alone in the dark…”

  “Are they always like this?” asked Gonzago.

  “No, sometimes they’re really a pain,” said Kira with a grin.

  “I heard that,” Broom said.

  “Astonishing piece of conjuring, that broom,” Gonzago said. “Really quite amazing. Tell me, what spell did you use?”

  “If I could remember, then maybe I could figure out how to undo it,” Wyrdrune said sourly.

  “I heard that, too!” Broom called from the kitchen.

  “Can we get back to the situation at hand?” said Billy.

  “Right,” said Wyrdrune, turning to Natasha. “Well, you’ve heard the whole story, in a nutshell. So you still think we ought to go to the Bureau with it?”

  Natasha gave a small snort. “I must admit I see your point. If I wasn’t psychic and didn’t know that you were telling me the truth, I’m sure I wouldn’t have believed it, either. But surely, there’s got to be a way to convince them.”

  “Convincing an individual is a lot easier than trying to convince an entire entrenched bureaucracy,” said Billy. “Besides, the Bureau is vulnerable. After all, we were attacked by a Bureau agent who had been possessed.”

  “This time we’ve run into a Dark One who is real smart,” said Wyrdrune. “A B.O.T. agent makes the perfect acolyte. They can command considerable resources, as you’ve seen.”

  “How can you stop them if the Bureau can’t?” Natasha asked.

  “Through the power of the runestones,” Wyrdrune said. “The only problem is, without Modred, we can’t manifest the Living Triangle. And without the power of all three runestones acting in concert, we don’t know if we can stop them.”

  “But if you knew to come here,” she said, “and Modred has taken over Angelo’s body, then wouldn’t he know to come here, too?”

  “That’s the question we’ve been asking ourselves,” said Wyrdrune. “If that was the case, he would have been here by now. Something’s wrong. We’re going to have to find him.”

  “ You realize we have more than just the
problem of finding Modred,” Billy said. “We were hit in our own place. That means we’ve been compromised. And Natasha told us that she felt only one man died in that elevator. It wasn’t Angelo, so it must have been the other Bureau agent. I’d guess that the acolyte killed the other agent in the elevator and compelled Angelo to do his bidding. Then, when the attack failed, the necromancer abandoned the body he was inhabiting and fled.”

  “So you’re saying that a dead man organized the entire police raid?” Natasha said.

  “No, not necessarily,” Wyrdrune replied. “Remember that although they both employ the same principles, necromancy is inherently a great deal more powerful than thaumaturgy. The Dark Ones are capable of things that ordinary human adepts can’t do. Magic is a demanding discipline, and they’ve had thousands of years to refine their art. Hell, it was theirs in the first place.”

  “But… raising the dead?” Natasha said.

  “It’s not exactly raising the dead,” said Billy. “Essentially, an acolyte, as we call them, is anyone who has been possessed by the Dark Ones, either placed under a spell of compulsion or literally taken over. They can do that with either a live body or a dead one. If they do it with a corpse, then the body doesn’t actually come to life. Basically, it’s a zombie that moves at the will of the necromancer. It continues to decay, of course. Take away that will and it collapses. But if it’s done with a live person, then the individual could be possessed, enchanted, and controlled by the will of the necromancer, or else the person could enter the service of the necromancer of their own volition.”

  “What probably happened with that Bureau agent was the necromancer possessed him, invaded his will, and then when he was through with him, he absorbed his life force,” Wyrdrune said. “That probably happened just prior to the attack on us. The necromancer needed an extra boost before he launched the attack, so he used the agent’s life force. Simply consumed it.”

  “Jesus,” said Natasha.

  “That only gives you a glimpse of what we’re up against,” said Kira.

  At that moment, Makepeace came back into the room and announced that Jacqueline was leaving Paris on the next available flight for New York. “I think we’re going to need all the help that we can get,” he said. “Which is why I’ve asked my friend, Morrison, to join us. And I also thought Ms. Ouspenskaya could be quite helpful, considering her special gift.”

  “I don’t know how special it is,” she said. “It hasn’t told me a single thing about you. I don’t sense that you’re shielding, but I still can’t get a reading on you.”

  “Ah, well, that’s because I’m a fairy, my dear,” Sebastian said.

  Natasha frowned. “What does being gay have to do with it?”

  Wyrdrune winced and said, “Ouch.”

  “Not that kind of fairy,” Makepeace said stiffly.

  “Then what… Now wait a minute, you don’t mean to tell me that… You?”

  “What did you expect, Tinkerbell?”

  “This has to be the strangest day of my life,” Natasha said, shaking her head.

  “I have a feeling that things are going to get much stranger before this is over,” said Gonzago. “But I must say, it beats hell out of grading papers.”

  “Some crew,” said Natasha. “A dropout warlock, a cat burglar, a former juvenile delinquent, an alcoholic wizard, an overgrown fairy, and a psychic gypsy. Oh, and a talking broom, as well. The only thing we’re missing is a witch with a pointy hat.”

  “Correction,” Makepeace said. “We have a witch. Only I wouldn’t mention anything about a pointy hat when Jacqueline arrives. It might offend her fashion sense.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “Please let this be a dream,” she said.

  “It’s liable to be a real nightmare,” Kira said. “Are you quite sure you want to be a part of this?”

  “Suppose I said no?” Natasha replied. “Then what?”

  “Then you’d be free to go,” said Wyrdrune.

  “With everything I know now?”

  “What would you do, tell the deputy commissioner? And what do you think his reaction would be?”

  “Knowing McGuire, he’d think I’ve gone off the deep end,” she said. “No, I don’t think this is something I can turn my back on. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think I’d ever get a good night’s sleep. But I do think I should go back to McGuire. I could be more help to you if I kept you posted on what the police were doing in this case.”

  “An excellent idea,” Billy said. “But you realize what would happen if you were caught collaborating with us?”

  “I don’t imagine it would be anywhere near as bad as what would happen if one of those Dark Ones got his hands on me,” she said.

  “Good point,” said Wyrdrune. “We can certainly use your help. But how will we keep in touch? We’re safe enough here for the time being, but we may have to leave on very short notice.”

  “Allow me,” said Makepeace. He went over to one of his bookshelves and selected an amulet from the shelf. It was a large amethyst mounted in gold, on a matching chain. He placed it around Natasha’s neck. “It matches your hair,” he said with a smile.

  “What does this do?” she asked.

  “It’s keyed to me,” he said. “If you want to reach me, simply take hold of it and think of me.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  “But what if I should lose it?”

  Makepeace smiled. “See that window over there?”

  “Yes?”

  “Toss it out.”

  “What, you mean just throw it out the window?”

  “As far as you can.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  She did as he requested. She went over to the window, took the amulet from around her neck, glanced back at him uncertainly, and, when he nodded, threw it out the window as hard as she could. Then she turned around to face him once again. “Well, it’s gone. What now?”

  Makepeace simply lowered his gaze to her chest. She looked down. The amulet was hanging around her neck, between her breasts.

  “Now that’s what I call a good trick,” she said. “Is this a runestone?”

  “No, it’s a blarney stone,” said Makepeace.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I thought that was a rock in Ireland.”

  “That is a blarney stone, as well,” Makepeace replied. “A blarney stone is any mineral that has been infused with fairy glamor.”

  “Looks like you’re stuck with it now,” said Kira. “And with us, as well.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE you actually had the nerve to come here,” Case said, staring at the dapper-looking man seated across from his desk. Except, of course, he wasn’t a man. Case knew that.

  He looked perfectly normal, sitting there very calm and self-possessed in his custom-tailored suit, with his legs casually crossed. The golden coppery tone of his skin might have been a carefully cultivated suntan. His well-groomed hair was an uncommon, fiery shade of red, but it only served to accentuate his striking appearance. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green, so bright they almost seemed to glow, but it was hard to tell because of the tinted glasses that he wore. He looked like a highly successful young businessman. People might stare at him on the street, especially women, but only because he looked so fit and handsome. There was something about him, what most people would call presence, but Case knew it was the aura of a predator. A predator who was not human. And he actually had the nerve to come to his office.

  “Why is that so difficult to believe?” the necromancer asked with a disarming smile that sent a chill through Case.

  “You just walked into Bureau headquarters, as calmly as you please?” said Case.

  “What of it? The so-called adepts on your staff are like somnambulists. Their abilities are paltry and ludicrously stunted, as are yours. What have I to fear from them?”

  Or me, thought Case grimly. “I don’t like it,�
� he said. “It’s taking a big chance. You promised me I’d be protected.”

  “The only protection you need to concern yourself with is protection from myself. I could easily destroy your will or drain you of your life force. You exist at my indulgence, Case. Never forget that.”

  “There’s not much chance of that,” said Case with weary resignation. He sighed. “That little escapade of yours has brought a hornets’ nest down around my head. Why did you have to kill those men?”

  “Because it was necessary. I could hardly have allowed witnesses.”

  “Well, it was all for nothing. You let them escape.”

  “If the police had done their job properly, the avatars would be dead by now and the runestones would have been destroyed. As it is, I had to cover my tracks as best I could.”

  “What was the plan? To frame them for the death of Whelen?”

  “And the police detective, Angelo. If the S.W.A.T. team had arrived on time, they would have seen two bodies and me engaged in magical combat with the suspects, as I believe you call them. They would have opened fire and it would have been finished in a matter of seconds. But they were delayed and I was forced to drain energy from Angelo and Silver and retreat. I should have known better than to depend on humans.”

  “What the hell, we’re merely mortal,” said Case with a grimace.

  “Spare me your sarcasm. What have you managed to learn?”

  “Not much,” said Case. “The police are still holding on to their forensics report. McGuire’s a cagey bastard. He might prove a problem.”

  “Then he shall have to be disposed of.”

  “That would cause an even greater problem. You don’t off the deputy police commissioner. McGuire’s got a lot of friends in this town, a lot of pull. He’s been around for a while and he’s well connected. You don’t mess with somebody who’s got clout like that.”