The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe

by Simon Hawke

  “Very impressive,” said McGuire.

  “Child’s play,” said Wyrdrune. “Wait’ll you see what the Dark Ones can do.”

  McGuire’s lips tightened in a grimace. “All right,” he said. “It’s your play.”

  “I think we’ll be leaving now,” said Wyrdrune.

  “I’m not going to keep my mouth shut about this,” said McGuire.

  “Do whatever you think you have to do,” said Wyrdrune. “I’m tired of arguing about it. And I’m not going to impose my will on yours.” He tossed the pistol magazine back to McGuire, then handed him the remaining bullet. “But before you go off half-cocked, no pun intended, at least think about what we said. You asked me what I’d do if I were in your place. Well, I’d think about it real hard. Because if you do choose to go public with this, whatever happens will be your responsibility.”

  They walked out and shut the door behind them.

  “As strange as it all sounds, I have no doubt that it’s all true,” said Angelo as the waitress brought their after-dinner drinks. “It all seems to feel right, in a peculiar sort of way. If that makes any sense at all.”

  “I suppose it does,” Gonzago said. “Did anything start coming back to you as I was speaking?”

  “A few things,” Angelo replied. “But it’s like being in a fog. Every once in a while, there’s a clear spot and I can see something, and then it closes in again.”

  “Give it time,” Gonzago said. “It will all come back to you, I’m sure.”

  “That’s if there is time,” Angelo replied. “What if these Dark Ones strike again and I don’t remember how to use the runestone?”

  “Well, if I understand correctly,” said Gonzago, “it isn’t really a matter of you knowing how to use it, it works sort of on its own, the way it did in the hotel when one of the spirits manifested. I find that aspect of your story particularly fascinating. So far as I know, none of the others has ever had similar experience.”

  “It’s ironic,” Angelo said. “Not only are these spirits of the runestone part of who I have become, but so is Modred. Perhaps that’s why I was so ready to believe that I was really Johnny Angel. I’m a cop, and yet a part of me is a professional killer.”

  “A former professional killer,” said Gonzago.

  “That’s supposed to make it better?”

  “No, I suppose not,” said Gonzago. “I can see where that would give rise to a certain amount of inner conflict.”

  “That’s putting it mildly, don’t you think?” said Angelo.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t think about it that way,” Gonzago said.

  “How should I think about it?”

  “Well, do you believe in reincarnation?”

  “Under the circumstances, it would be kind of silly if I said no, wouldn’t it?” said Angelo.

  “Mmm, yes, good point. Well, if we are to assume that you have had other past lives—besides the ones we’ve been discussing, that is—would you feel responsible for what occurred during those lives?”

  “I don’t see how I could.”

  “Precisely. In a sense, this is more or less the same sort of thing,” Gonzago said. “You are not exactly Modred, that is to say, the son of King Arthur, who lived as a mercenary and eventually became the assassin known as Morpheus. That •as another life, another incarnation, as it were. There is no way you could have been responsible for that. You weren’t even born yet. Nor are you exactly John Angelo, the police detective, although your memories of that particular past life, such as they are, may be the ones you identify with most. That John Angelo died. Nor are you the Old One you manifested in the Plaza Hotel. Those are all past lives, past incarnations. Except unlike most people, in your particular case, there is a stronger thread of continuity. You are the result of different life forces that have all united in one person, and that person is who you are right now, not who you were before. In a manner of speaking, you’re just a newborn babe. Until a relatively short while ago, the person you are now did not even exist.”

  “So then, who am I? Am I Modred? Or am I John Angelo?”

  Gonzago shrugged. “Well, as near as I can tell, my boy. that is entirely up to you. Since you are a newborn, more or less, you are starting off with a clean slate. It seems to me that you can be anyone you want to be.”

  “How about Donald Duck?” asked Angelo wryly. “His life seems a lot less complicated.”

  “Yes, but think of the stress levels,” said Gonzago. “It must be hell to be wired that tight all the time.”

  Angelo smiled. “You’re all right, Gonzo. A little strange, perhaps, but I like you anyway.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, my boy,” Gonzago said.

  “It’s all so very strange,” said Angelo. “I remembered Broom, and I seem to remember Wyrdrune and Kira, but I can’t for the life of me remember what they look like. I remember Merlin now, but I can’t remember Billy. And I seem to have an image of Makepeace as a rather large and boisterous man.”

  “You see? Your memory is starting to come back to you,” Gonzago said.

  “But only in a very haphazard way,” Angelo replied. “It’s incredibly frustrating.”

  “Don’t try to force it. Just let things happen at their own pace. Doubtless, the runestone is working to heal you even as we speak. It must have expended a great deal of energy simply in the act of saving your life. To some degree, its recovery must be directly related to your own.”

  “So I’m the weak link, then?”

  “You could look at it that way, I suppose,” Gonzago said, “but on the other hand, without you, the runestone would not really be able to function.”

  “But they functioned without anybody else for all that time,” said Angelo.

  “It was a static situation,” Gonzago explained. “They had to exert their spell over one narrowly defined locality. They had no need of bodies with which to move around. Nor did they need to channel their energies through organic beings. People, in other words. That sort of thing exerts a certain amount of wear and tear.”

  “So in order for the spirits of the runestone to be fully recovered, I have to be fully recovered.”

  “Even magic has to follow the laws of energy,” Gonzago said.

  “The old man has nothing to do with this, Vinnie,” said Angelo. “Leave him out of it.”

  “Oh, I’m supposed to take your word for that?” said Maldonado with a sneer. “Like your meetin’ a Bureau adept has nothin’ to do with that shipment comin’ in tomorrow? Yeah, right. You think I’m a fuckin’ moron? We’re all gonna take a little walk. The old man, too. Move it.”

  “I don’t think so,” Angelo said.

  “What?”

  “I said, I don’t think so. You’re planning on killing us both anyway. Why should we make it any easier on you? We’re not moving.”

  “You want it here? You want innocent people to get hit by stray fire, huh, cop?”

  “You going to kill everybody in here, Vinnie, just to make sure there aren’t any witnesses? That’s what, sixty, seventy people? You boys got that many bullets?”

  “Sixty, seventy people makes sixty, seventy different eyewitness accounts,” said Maldonado. “I ain’t too worried about it. So what’s it gonna be, cop? Somebody else gets hurt, ain’t no never mind to me.”

  “I don’t think you’ve got the nerve for it, Vinnie,” said Angelo. He tensed, ready to make a move.

  “Have it your way,” Maldonado said.

  Suddenly both Angelo and Gonzago vanished.

  “What the hell…” said Maldonado.

  “Where’d they go?” said Franco.

  They glanced all around them. There was no sign of the two men.

  “Would you gentlemen like a table?” asked the waitress, coming up to them.

  The men kept their guns concealed. They glanced uneasily at Maldonado. “No,” said Maldonado. “No, we were just lookin’ for someone.” He glanced at the others. “Shit, let’s get the hell out of here.”
>
  They quickly moved toward the door. The waitress watched them go, then shrugged. She looked up. “You need anything, Gonzo?”

  “No, thank you, dear, we’re fine,” Gonzago said from where he and Angelo were lying pressed up flat against the ceiling. “Just the check, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing, hon. Don’t fall, now.”

  “Never!” Gently as feathers, they drifted back down to toe floor.

  “That was rather a unique solution,” Angelo said, still a bit taken aback by what had just happened.

  “Well, as I have a tendency to rather overindulge in spirituals consumption,” said Gonzago, “some time ago I struck upon the notion of having a wee kip on the ceiling, the better to avoid people stepping on my prostrate form and possibly incurring injury. The management does not object, as it does not really interfere with business and has occasion to cause some mild amusement. I’ve done it in my cups so many times, I can do it in my sleep, by now. In fact, I have. It’s become something of a habit. Never thought it would come in handy for being set upon by ruffians, though.”

  “It’s a good thing they did not look up,” said Angelo.

  “Well, I’m sure I would have thought of something if they had,” Gonzago replied. “Not exactly friends of yours, I take it.”

  “They work for Tommy Leone,” Angelo replied. “That was Maldonado, the one I was telling you about.”

  “I see. Not a very pleasant fellow, is he? They seemed to think I was an agent of the Bureau of Thaumaturgy.”

  “Yeah, I caught that, too,” said Angelo. “I wonder why? From what Maldonado said, it apparently has something to do with this shipment coming in tomorrow. I had assumed it was drugs, but why would the B.O.T. be concerned with narcotics?”

  “They would if it was Ambrosia,” said Gonzago.

  “Ambrosia? What’s that?”

  “If you had all your memory, you’d know,” Gonzago aid. “It’s a new wrinkle in thaumagenetic engineering. A grain of magically developed hemp that comes from the Orient. You can either smoke it or ingest it. It seems to have caught on with some students at the university, which is how I know about it. It enhances tactile and visual perceptions and has mild hallucinogenic properties. But primarily, it’s an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac that turns males into rampant satyrs and females into insatiable nymphomaniacs.”

  “I can see why it would be popular with college students,” Angelo said.

  “It’s nothing to joke about, my boy,” Gonzago replied. “The stuff is virulently addictive. I understand you may not get hooked the first or second time, but once it has a hold on you, it virtually takes over your life. You can turn someone into a sexual slave with that stuff, and if you’re not in absolutely peak physical condition, you can literally fornicate yourself to death.”

  “Who the hell would buy something like that?” said Angelo.

  “Young people, who are less afraid of risk and think they’ll live forever,” said Gonzago. “And unscrupulous people, who seek to control and manipulate others. Thaumagenetically engineered drugs are still something relatively new, but it was, perhaps, an inevitable development. Necromancy is not the only way in which magic can be misused.”

  “They’ll have to be stopped,” said Angelo.

  “Perhaps you’d best leave that to the Bureau,” said Gonzago. “At the moment, we’re concerned with something much more dangerous than Ambrosia.”

  “But I’m the only one who knows the shipment is coming in tomorrow,” Angelo said.

  “Do you know where it’s coming in?”

  Angelo sighed and shook his head. “I either don’t know or else I can’t remember. But Maldonado knows.”

  “And Maldonado just tried to kill you,” said Gonzago. “Me, too, come to think of it, but that’s not really the point. Your cover has been blown. There’s nothing you could possibly do now. Quite aside from which, you are not a police officer anymore.”

  “No, I suppose I’m not,” Angelo replied. “But on the other hand, I guess that means I don’t have to worry about doing everything nice and legal, by the book.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Gonzago said. “I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  “What other choice do I have, Gonzo? I can’t simply look the other way while they bring in a shipment of thaumagenetically engineered drugs. Besides, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I have that option. Maldonado’s not going to give up on me. It’s not just the shipment, it’s a matter of credibility for them. They have to take me down. And now they think you’re involved in this, as well. We’re going to have to stop them, before they stop us, permanently.”

  Gonzago sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I cannot find any flaws in your argument. But those gangsters are not our only problem. The Dark Ones are not going to give up, either. And as far as I know, you are still wanted by the police. Kira, Wyrdrune, and Gypsy have gone to meet with Deputy Commissioner McGuire. With any luck, that may take care of at least that one problem, but there is still the matter of the Dark Ones.”

  “Gonzo?” said the waitress, coming up to their table. “There’s a phone call for you.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Gonzago said, getting up to answer it. “Maybe that’s good news. Keep your fingers crossed, my boy. And don’t sit with your back toward the door.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWO OF THEM, thought Case, as he sat behind his desk. staring at the couple seated across from him. They looked enough alike to be brother and sister. And the way the woman was looking at him, he felt like an insect about to be dropped into a jar of alcohol. Anyone else would have mistaken her expression for desire, but Case knew better. It wasn’t sexual hunger she was projecting, but a hunger of an entirely different sort. He felt an impulse rising up within him that he hadn’t felt since he was a small child, an impulse of blind, unreasoning terror. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to. If it wasn’t for Beladon, he thought, she’d take me right here.

  Vampires really did exist, he thought, but they were much more frightening than the ones depicted in the movies. These vampires, like their mythical counterparts, lived forever, only they did not sleep in coffins. They felt perfectly at home out in the daylight, and they were not afraid of garlic or crucifixes. And they did not drink human blood. They drank something far worse. They drank human souls.

  “So what progress have you made?” asked Beladon, as calmly as if he were asking him about some routine report.

  “I’ve made progress on two fronts,” Case replied.

  “McGuire is no longer going to be a problem. I’ve had him ordered off the case and everything he’s got is being turned over to this office. So there won’t be any more interference from the police. From now on, the Bureau calls the tune. Secondly, I’ve contacted our Washington headquarters and arranged to have copies of all the district attorney’s Organized Crime Task Force files delivered to this office. Christine Mathews protested strenuously, of course, but there really wasn’t anything that she could do.” He picked up a thick file folder and handed it to Beladon. “These are all the files pertaining to John Angelo and his undercover activities.”

  Beladon took the file and started to peruse it.

  “As it turns out,” continued Case, “the D.A. didn’t have 1 leg to stand on. Angelo discovered evidence that Tommy Leone’s bunch were dealing in thaumagenetically engineered drugs. They’re expecting a shipment of Ambrosia from the Orient, and that clearly gives the Bureau jurisdiction in the matter. As of now, both the police department and the D.A.’s task force are under my direct authority insofar as anything that pertains to this situation.”

  “And that is all you have managed to accomplish?” asked Beladon, raising his eyebrows.

  Case felt a sudden chill go through him. “It’s not insignificant, you know,” he protested quickly. “It takes time to get these things done. You have to work through the system. I mean, after all, that’s why you came to me, is
n’t it, to take advantage of the system? We’re now in a position where it’s working for us.”

  “But you have come no closer to locating the avatars than you were before,” said Beladon.

  Case’s glance went from Beladon to the female and then quickly slid away. He wished she would at least say something. It was giving him the creeps, the way she kept looking at him like a hungry cat. “It’s only a matter of time now,” he said. “This is a big city. We’ve got a lot of people out there looking for them, but they could be anywhere.” That sounded too lame. His mind raced to think of a stronger note to finish on. “Every cop in town has Angelo’s description,” he said. “And I’ve got every Bureau agent in this office working on this case. Now that we don’t have to worry about McGuire sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, we’ll run him down, don’t worry.”

  “I fail to see the purpose of these documents,” said Beladon. “How do they help us?”

  “It’s a file on the investigation Angelo was working on before he took part in that raid,” said Case. “Where he was staying, what he was doing from day to day, all the people he was in contact with. The police have already got his apartment staked out. If he shows up there, I’ll know it right away. Otherwise, there’s a good chance he may get in contact with some of those people, since that’s what he was doing before.”

  “But you do not have any way of knowing that for certain,” Beladon replied.

  “No, but if he doesn’t get in contact with them, they’ll ‘ start looking for him, too. They’ve already lost several major shipments to police seizures. Those were just ordinary narcotics, but now that they’ve got the Ambrosia coming in, they’ll be especially anxious. Angelo was working undercover as part of their operation. If he’s suddenly disappeared, it won’t take much for them to put two and two together. They’ll figure out he was the informant and they’ll put a contract out on him.”

  “A contract?”

  “It means they will offer a substantial sum of money to anyone who kills him,” Case explained. “So either way, he’s a walking dead man, no pun intended.”