The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe

by Simon Hawke

  “With you as leader, I presume?” said Calador.

  “That is a matter for the others to decide, once we have gathered them together,” Beladon replied. “If someone else is chosen, or if the others all decide to rule in congress, it is all the same to me. There is no need for us to compete among ourselves. There is now plenty of the human resource for us all. That is what the others never fully understood. Or else their greed for power blinded them to practicality. They thought only of themselves, first to escape from the avatars and hide until they could recover fully, then to build up their own power as quickly as possible. They marked out their domains, as you did, some wisely, some unwisely, and those that were the greediest were the first to fall. The humans have developed intricate systems of communications of which the avatars can take advantage. Few places in their world are now so far removed that news of what occurs there is not disseminated elsewhere. If you would not disdain to examine this newspaper, for example, you would see that it reports events that occur all throughout the world, and their television programs do likewise. They have also developed networks of information that utilize devices called computers, which are more efficient than most spells, and these computers link their world, one nation with another, from the smallest village to the largest city. The Old Ones were right, Calador. The humans have developed into a highly intelligent and advanced species, just as they predicted. It means that they shall serve us better once they have been subjugated, but it shall take all the rest of us working together to accomplish that task. And if I can make you understand that and accept it, then we will have taken the first step toward our eventual victory.”

  A book came floating out of the library and stopped, hovering in midair before Calador.

  “Read this,” said Beladon. “It is a brief history of their world, written by a man named H. G. Wells. It will make a good beginning to familiarize yourself with our new dominion.”

  Calador stretched out his hand and the book obediently dropped into it.

  “In the meantime, I shall proceed with our plan to find the missing avatar,” said Beladon. “And this time, Delana, I shall ask you to assist me. There will be a part for you to play, as well, Calador, but for the present, as the humans say, you have your homework.”

  When Blue came to, she was lying on the bed. The red-haired man with coppery skin and the bright green eyes was sitting beside her, staring down at her intently. His gaze was so direct and unsettling that she flinched from it. She sat up quickly and moved away from him, scrambling to the opposite side of the bed.

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded in a frightened tone. “What happened to Johnny?”

  “Listen to me carefully,” the old man said. “There is not much time. The manifestation takes strength that is required for the avatar to heal. You must tell him that he is not who he thinks he is. He must find a man named Sebastian Makepeace, who lives in a place known as the Village, above Lovecraft’s Cafe. He must go to him and tell him that his name is Modred. As we gather our strength to make him whole again, his memory shall return, but there may not be enough time. The Dark Ones know that he is vulnerable now, and they shall come for him.”‘

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I don’t understand. What the hell is going—”

  The bright green eyes flared with a brilliant inner light and her voice suddenly froze in her throat.

  “You will remember, and you shall tell him,” said the Old One. And in the next instant, he was gone and Angelo was in his place, sitting on the bed. The transformation had taken place in the blink of eye. Angelo slumped over and steadied himself with a hand on the bed.

  “What happened?” he said. “I must have fallen asleep…”

  She blinked several times. “You’re not who you think you are,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You have to find a man named Sebastian Makepeace, who lives in the Village, above Lovecraft’s Cafe, and tell him that your name is Modred. You’re going to get your memory back, but there may not be enough time. The Dark Ones are coming for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Angelo.

  She blinked again, several times. “I don’t have the faintest idea,” she replied. “That’s what the old guy said.”

  “What old guy?”

  “The old guy you turned into.”

  Angelo stared at her. “I turned into an old man? Were you dreaming, or what?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless I’m dreaming right now. This happened like a couple of seconds ago. You fell asleep and you turned into this old guy with long red hair and a great tan. He was dressed in a white robe and he made me give you that message. He did something with his eyes. Put me under a spell, I guess.” She shook her head. “One thing’s for damn sure. You sure ain’t Johnny Angel. You’re somebody called Modred. And you’re an adept. Either that or you’ve got somebody else living inside there.”

  “Are you putting me on?”

  “Okay, so it sounds pretty crazy, but it’s true. You mean you don’t remember anything about what just happened?”

  Angelo shook his head. “No. The last thing I remember is you giving me a rubdown. And then I guess I fell asleep.”

  “Yeah, well, I did something else, too,” she said sheepishly. “After you fell asleep, I took your roll and I was gonna split, but at the last minute, I decided I couldn’t go through with it. I was halfway to the door and I changed my mind. When I turned around, you were gone and there was this old guy in your place.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because when you get your memory back, I don’t want you thinking I wasn’t a hundred percent straight with you,” she said. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, except that you’re somebody called Modred, but we’re talking major sorcery here and I ain’t gonna mess with that. That stuff scares me even more than Joey’s friends.”

  “Modred,” said Angelo. “The name sounds familiar.”

  “It should,” she said. “It’s who you really are.”

  “So then who’s Johnny Angel?”

  “You’re asking me? Until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know you. But if you’re just some hired muscle working for Tommy Leone, then I’m the Queen of England.”

  Angelo exhaled heavily. “This is rather a lot to deal with,” he said.

  “You believe me, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I believe you. The name Modred rings a bell. So does the name Makepeace. And I’ve got a very uneasy feeling about the Dark Ones, whoever they are.”

  “Maybe this old guy, Modred or whatever his name is, is who you really are,” she said. “Maybe you used some kind of spell to become Johnny Angel for some reason and then something happened and you lost your memory and you got stuck.”

  Angelo frowned. “I suppose that’s possible. Still, it doesn’t seem right, somehow. I don’t know why. But I have to find out.” He got up and stumbled, almost falling down.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just feeling weak and dizzy,” he said.

  “The change probably took a lot out of you,” she said. “The old guy said something about that.”

  Angelo started putting on his shirt. “I have to find this man, Makepeace.” He stopped and glanced at her. “It was good of you to tell me about the money. Do you need some to get away?”

  She grimaced. “I can always use some cash.”

  “Here,” said Angelo, peeling off several large bills from the roll. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Thanks. But look, you’re not going to get very far, the kind of shape you’re in. Why don’t we call down for a cab and I’ll go with you as far as Lovecraft’s. I know where it is. It’s at MacDougal and Fourth. Least I can do is make sure you get there okay and find this guy.”

  Angelo nodded. “Thanks, I’ll take you up on that. But afterward, you make sure you get out of town.”

  “Don’t worry. Soon as we find this guy Makepeace
, I’m on a plane and I’m outta here.”

  They called down to the front desk and asked for the doorman to flag down a cab. Within five minutes, they were on their way down to MacDougal Street. In the meantime, Makepeace, Billy, and Jacqueline had gone to prepare the loft on Waverly Place for occupancy, while Wyrdrune, Kira, and Gypsy were on their way to see Steve McGuire.

  “He’s already seen the D.A.’s file on Angelo,” Gypsy pointed out, “and if we’ve got to get anything else out of Christine Mathews, he’s our best bet. Besides, I don’t know where she lives and I don’t think we want to go waltzing into the D.A.’s office tomorrow. You guys are wanted, after all.”

  “There is that little inconvenience,” Wyrdrune agreed. “Aside from which, McGuire is the only one in a position to lift that A.P.B. on Angelo. The last thing we need right now is for him to get arrested. No jail could hold Modred, but if Modred doesn’t remember that he’s Modred, things could get sticky if he was taken in.”

  “They probably wouldn’t put him in jail, though,” Kira said. “Wouldn’t they be more likely to take him to a hospital?”

  “He’s walked out of a hospital before,” said Wyrdrune. “Besides, there’s no telling what he’s likely to do if they try to take him in. If he resists arrest, he’s liable to get shot. No, McGuire’s the man we’ve got to see. I just hope we can convince him without having to compel his cooperation.”

  “You’ll have to tell him everything,” said Gypsy.

  “I wasn’t planning on lying to the man,” said Wyrdrune. “The question is, how much is he going to believe?”

  “With me vouching for you, all of it, I’m sure,” said Gypsy. “He doesn’t consider me the most dependable person in the world, but he knows I’d never lie to him. Just lay it out for him the way you did for me. He’s a good man to have in your corner.”

  The cab dropped them off in front of McGuire’s apartment building and Gypsy buzzed up from the lobby. She did not tell him she had brought anybody with her, just that she had some new, important information about the case and had to see him right away. Consequently, McGuire was taken aback when he opened his apartment door to admit her and Wyrdrune and Kira quickly stepped in behind her.

  “What is this?” he said, backing up a couple of steps warily.

  “It’s okay, Steve, they’re friends,” said Gypsy. “I want you to listen to them.”

  “There’s no need for alarm, Deputy Commissioner,” said Wyrdrune. “We’re here to help.”

  McGuire’s eyes involuntarily flicked back toward where he’d left his gun. Kira caught the quick reaction.

  “You won’t need your gun, Mr. McGuire,” she said. “We could stop you before you tried to use it, anyway.”

  “I think I know who you people are,” he said uneasily.

  “Yes, we were the tenants of that penthouse your department raided,” Wyrdrune said. “Two of them, at any rate. However, there’s a lot about what happened you don’t know. We’re not the ones you should be after. We came here hoping to convince you of that. And to help you stop the real necromancers.”

  “Listen to them, Steve,” said Gypsy. “Please.”

  McGuire glanced at her briefly, then looked back at Wyrdrune. “How do I know she hasn’t been placed under a spell of some sort?”

  “You don’t, I suppose,”, Wyrdrune replied. “But you know that you haven’t been placed under a spell.”

  “At least, not yet,” McGuire said, tension in his bearing.

  “If I wanted to place you under a spell of compulsion, Deputy Commissioner, I could do so very easily,” said Wyrdrune. “The fact that I haven’t should tell you something. We just came here to talk. I’m sure you have a lot of questions about what’s been going on. We’re the ones with all the answers. Believe it or not, we’re the good guys.”

  “You are, huh? You’ll have to convince me of that.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Wyrdrune. “I was hoping Gypsy’s presence would help in that regard, but if you feel she’s being coerced, I can provide you with the names of a number of people who will vouch for what I’m about to tell you. One of them is Captain Rebecca Farrell, of the L. A.P.D. Another is Chief Inspector Michael Blood of Scotland Yard. And there are others, such as Inspector Armand Renaud of the Paris police, and Agent Akiro Katayama of the Tokyo office of the I.T.C. And if you feel that we’ve somehow managed to coerce all those people, as well, you can also check with a man named Yohaku, in Japan, unless you think we’re powerful enough to suborn one of the highest-ranking mages in the world.”

  “You drop some pretty impressive names,” McGuire said. “All right, go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Perhaps we’d better sit down,” said Wyrdrune. “This is going to take a while.”

  Angelo pressed the buzzer for Makepeace’s apartment. When a man’s voice answered, he said, “I’m looking for Sebastian Makepeace.”

  “And who is it that’s looking?” asked the voice over the speaker.

  Angelo hesitated slightly. He moistened his lips and said, “Modred.”

  “Good heavens! Come on up, my boy.” The door buzzer sounded and Angelo opened the door. He held it for a moment and turned to Blue. “Thanks again for everything,” he said.

  “Hey, you helped me out, it was the least I could do,” she said. “You sure you’re gonna be all right?”

  “I’m not really sure of anything,” Angelo replied, “but there’s really nothing more that you can do. You’d best be going. The cab’s waiting.”

  Blue nodded. “You know, part of me’s real curious about what the story is with you. But another part of me doesn’t really want to know, and that’s the part that looks out for number one. It’s kept me out of trouble all these years. Well, mostly out of trouble, anyway.”

  “I understand,” said Angelo.

  She hesitated, then leaned forward quickly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, whoever you are,” she said.

  “Good luck to you, too, Blue. And watch out for men you meet in bars.”

  She smiled wryly. “Yeah. Story of my life.” She turned and ran to the cab without a backward glance. Angelo watched as it skimmed away. She didn’t wave. She didn’t even look at him. She was already gone. He turned and started walking up the stairs.

  The man who answered the door was dressed in the robe of an adept. He had white hair and a long white beard. There was something about his appearance that tugged at Angelo’s memory, but he couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. “Sebastian Makepeace?” he said.

  “No, but he should be back shortly. My name is Morrison Gonzago, I’m a close friend of his, and I know all about you. My friends call me Gonzo. Please, come in. Everyone’s been quite concerned about you.”

  “Everyone?” said Angelo, entering the apartment and looking around.

  “You don’t remember?” asked Gonzago.

  Angelo shook his head. “No, not really. If I tell you how i got here, I don’t think you’d believe me.”

  “Try me. You might be surprised.”

  “All right…I was with a young lady… well, a prostitute, to be exact. It’s rather a long story, but I was trying to help her get away from some people who were after her.”

  “Tommy Leone’s people?” said Gonzago.

  Angelo looked surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “Never mind that for now. Please, sit down.”

  “Thanks. I’m about dead on my feet.”

  They took their seats in the living room. “Do go on,” Gonzago said. “You were about to tell me how you came here.”

  “Well, we were in a hotel, and I fell asleep, and while I was asleep, I apparently turned into someone else. An old man with long red hair and a white robe, who told her that my name was Modred and I had to find a man named Sebastian Makepeace, who lived above Lovecraft’s Cafe in the Village. And to make sure she got it right, he placed her under a spell. She gave me the message and I came straight here.”

  Gonzago leane
d forward, an expression of intense interest on his face. “They actually manifested?”

  “Who’s they?” asked Angelo with a frown.

  “The Old Ones,” said Gonzago. “The spirits of the runestone. “

  Angelo opened his shirt. “You mean this?”

  “Yes,” said Gonzago. “You have no memory of its significance?”

  Angelo shook his head. “No. I have no idea how it got there. I don’t even know who Modred is. All I know is the message I was given, and the fact that this… transformation took a hell of a lot out of me. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” asked Gonzago. “Or perhaps something a bit stronger?”

  “Thanks. I could really use a cup of coffee.”

  “One moment,” said Gonzago. He got up and went back into the bedroom. Angelo heard him say, “We have a visitor who’d like some coffee. You’ll never guess who it is.”

  “More coffee? What do I look like, a percolator? You realize we’ve almost gone through all the filters? You know what all that caffeine does to your system?”