Dark Magic

to Milly’s front door, where he rapped softly.

“It’s open,” a voice called from within.

He entered and headed for the living room. Milly stood by a large picture window facing Central Park. On the other side of the glass, a flock of crows were performing an aerial ballet. The birds’ movements were perfectly synchronized, and bordered on poetry.

Milly gazed at him in the glass. She wore an embroidered red robe of Oriental design, and a red sash in her silver hair. A tiny woman at five feet tall, she weighed no more than ninety pounds. But her presence could fill a stadium, and Max always felt puny around her.

“How bad is it, Max?”

“Bad,” he replied. “The Order of Astrum has sent an assassin to kill us. He did away with Marie and her husband last night, and tried to kill Lester and me this morning. Luckily, Peter came to our rescue, and beat him up. It was something to see.”

Milly blanched at the news that Marie was gone. In a subdued voice she said, “Peter saved you and Lester? How wonderful.”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“Peter is changing, Milly. Something has triggered his powers to a new level. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. He seems astonished by it all, and is begging me to explain. On top of that, he’s talking to the FBI.”

“Is that it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I’m certain that Peter will know how to deal with the FBI. My main concern is what you told Peter about himself.”

“Nothing, so far.”

“Are you planning to speak with him?”

“Yes, I am. Once Wolfe is caught and the dust settles, I plan to tell Peter about who he is, and who his parents were.”

“Why, pray tell?”

“Because he deserves to know. We’ve kept it from him for too long.”

Milly spun around. Max felt the unbearable weight of her stare. He shifted his feet uneasily, and gazed at the floor.

“I’m being a terrible hostess. Sit with me on the couch,” she said.

Together, they made the couch sag. The crows hovered outside, flapping their wings furiously. They were the small, pigeon-sized jackdaw variety, black from head to toe, and as feisty as pit bulls. They had migrated from Milly’s hometown of Ipswich, Massachusetts, when she’d relocated to New York, and now resided in a stand of oak trees across the street. Ipswich’s loss had been New York’s gain, with the birds providing regular entertainment for Milly and her guests. Witches held a powerful sway over animals, and the crows were as obedient, and loyal, as any domesticated pet.

“No, Max,” Milly said firmly.

“No?” he replied meekly.

“No.”

“I will always bow to your wishes, Milly.”

“Thank you. Let me explain. It is not your place, or mine, to tell Peter about himself or his family history. He must have the curiosity and desire to seek self-discovery. Once he goes down that road, he will learn quickly enough who he is, and what he’s capable of. It’s how the process works, and we must abide by it.”

“Should I lie to him?”

“If you must, yes.”

“But why? I’m closer to him than my own son.”

Milly placed her hand on Max’s forearm, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know that. Be there for him. He’s a grown man. Stop treating him like a child.”

“Very well.” Max paused to gaze out the window, then looked back at his hostess. “Not to change the subject, but have you given any thought to how to deal with Wolfe?”

“I have,” she said. “Holly is moving in with me for the time being. The building is quite secure, and is wired into the local police. We’ll be safe here. You’re welcome to stay in one of the guest bedrooms, if you’d like. They’re quite comfortable.”

“Thank you, but I’m staying put in my apartment,” Max said. “I live across the street from a police precinct. It’s one of the safest areas of the city. Have you spoken to Reggie?”

“We talked earlier. Reggie wishes to remain in his apartment as well. You two should consider staying together. There’s safety in numbers, you know.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll go over and see him right now.”

Max rose from the couch. Outside, the crows levitated in the air, hanging on their master’s every word. Such wonderfully obedient creatures, he thought. Perhaps in his next life, he could come back as a witch, and have a flock of birds follow him around as well.

“Good-bye, Max. Be safe,” Milly said.

“And you as well,” he replied.

“He’s gone,” Milly called out after the front door had clicked shut.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. You can come out now.”

“Did he leave his wallet on the couch? He does that sometimes.”

Milly glanced at the indented cushion beside her. “No. The coast is clear.”

Holly slipped into the living room from the butler’s hallway, and joined her aunt. She was dressed in her school uniform of faded blue jeans and a brown turtleneck, her hair pulled back in a bun. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed filled with nervous energy.

“Do you think Max knows I was spying on him?” Holly asked.

“It wasn’t spying,” Milly said sharply. “We need to know if Max is trying to protect Peter. Since you’re close to Peter, I thought it was best if you heard what Max had to say.”

“It certainly felt like spying.”

“Very well. You were spying on him. Now tell me, is Max trying to protect him?”

“I don’t think so, Aunt Milly.”

“Good.”

Holly gazed out the window. In profile, she bore a striking resemblance to her aunt. Witches carried powerful genes, and it was not unusual for descendants hundreds of years apart to look nearly identical. Milly was a direct descendant of Mary Glover, who’d been hanged during the Salem witch trials. Glover’s powers had included the ability to see into the future, cast spells that only she could break, and a strange sway over dogs, cats, farm animals, and birds. Holly had seen a portrait of Glover in an old book entitled Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcraft and Possessions. The resemblance had been uncanny, right down to their hairstyles, and the birthmarks on their chins.

“I have a question,” Holly said. “Are you really going to let Peter go it alone?”

“You heard what I told Max,” her aunt replied. “Peter must take this journey by himself. That’s how the process works, and there’s no getting around it.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right.”

“I wonder what he’s told the FBI.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Holly looked at her aunt. “Do you want me to spy on Peter, as well?”

“I most certainly do. When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“This morning. He called to warn me about Wolfe. Oh my, look at the crows.”

Milly shifted her gaze. The crows were hovering in perfect rows, flapping their wings like the Radio City Music