Dark Magic

“I’m not a superhero.”

“You’re sure acting like one. Anytime you think something bad is going to happen, you go flying out the door without caring about the people you leave behind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true. Look, this will be over soon, and things will go back to normal.”

“Things will never be back to normal,” she said, sounding ready to cry. “You’re not the person I thought you were. Let me rephrase that. Half of you is the person I thought I knew; the other half is a strange dude with psychic powers who’s been leading a secret life none of his friends knew about. That’s the guy I’m having a problem with.”

“I didn’t want to keep secrets from you.”

“But you did. And you’re still doing it. I don’t know who you are.”

“I haven’t changed that much, have I?”

“Yes, you have. You act like someone possessed.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. You’re changing, and I don’t know why. Do you?”

He thought back to what Milly had told him. His parents had fallen into a lake with three of their little friends, and been miraculously saved by a spirit from the other side. But had it been a good spirit, or a bad spirit? His parents had changed the course of a war, yet had also been founding members of a murderous cult. He had no way of knowing what type of spirit had guided them. And if he didn’t know what spirit had guided his parents, he couldn’t know which spirit was guiding him. Liza wasn’t the only one who was confused.

“No,” he said quietly.

“No what?” she said, sounding exasperated.

“No, I don’t know why I’m changing. But I’m going to find out.”

“Well, send me a postcard.”

“You’re not going to give me another chance?”

“You’ve run out of those.”

He followed her out of the brownstone. The rain was coming down so hard that it made it difficult to see. At the corner she waved frantically for a cab. It was as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he shouted over the storm.

She spun around. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Just name it.”

“Stop doing these crazy seances, and come back to the real world.”

“I can’t do that. It’s who I am.”

“Then good-bye.”

A cab braked at the curb, splashing them both. Liza rammed her suitcase into the backseat, hopped in, and slammed the door. Kneeling down, he gazed at her through the window. He mouthed the words Please don’t go. She shook her head.

The cab sped away. He walked back to his empty brownstone, wondering if his heart might break. Liza had made him feel whole. Without her, he was nothing.

He looked to the sky. Was this his reward for doing the right thing? It hardly seemed fair, and he let out a frightening yell.

“God damn it!”

A car alarm pierced the air. It was quickly followed by another car alarm, and then another. Within seconds, every vehicle parked on the street was blaring.

He looked up and down the street in fear. His powers had made those alarms go off. He concentrated, and tried to turn them off.

Nothing doing.

He hurried inside his brownstone before his neighbors came out, and saw what he’d done.

28

Lying in bed that night, Peter stared at the side of the bed where Liza normally slept. Her leaving hadn’t seemed real a few hours ago. Now it did, and the pain was tearing a hole in his heart.

He rolled onto his back and gazed at the plaster ceiling. Tomorrow was Monday, and the theater was dark. Normally, he and Liza would sleep in, and spend the afternoon plundering an uncharted area of the city. New York had hundreds of neighborhoods, thousands of shops, and even more restaurants, and they’d tried to visit them all.

He retrieved his cell phone from the night table. He’d sent Liza several text messages, and apologized in every conceivable way he knew how. Still no response.

A clap of thunder shook the walls. He threw on a bathrobe, and went to the window which looked out on the courtyard. Some of the best seances he’d ever conducted had occurred during bad storms, and he’d assumed it had something to do with the air being filled with electricity. Now, he found himself not caring about the spirits, or anything associated with them. He just wanted her back.

He thought about her request. Stop doing these crazy seances, and come back to the real world. Up until two days ago, he would have said yes; his love for her was that great. Up until two days ago, he would have been able to walk away from it. But now he couldn’t. The spirit world had taken over, and he couldn’t have run away from it if his life depended upon it. But Liza deserved better than what he’d given her. She’d committed herself to him, and he’d repaid her by keeping her in the dark about who he was. There was a name for what he’d done. It was called being a shit.

His cell phone was vibrating. His heartbeat quickened as he grabbed it off the night table. Liza had sent him a text message.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He returned to the window, and read her message by the light of the storm.

P,

I’m sorry to run out on you, but you gave me no choice. You’re scaring me. I don’t know this person you’ve become.

Do you?

L

It was a good question. He’d done things in the past couple of days that he would never have dreamed of doing before, and the answer was as obvious as it was frightening.

No, he didn’t.

He didn’t know this person at all. This person had powers and feelings that were brand new to him. If he wanted to get back together with Liza, he needed to find out who this person was. For her sake, and for his own.

But how? He supposed it had to start with knowing who his parents were. The family tree, as it were. Then he might understand himself a little better.

He went into the bathroom. Reaching beneath his bathroom sink, he removed the mysterious DVD that he’d taken from the bookshelf in Lester Rowe’s apartment. Maybe the DVD had the answers he was looking for, or could point him in the right direction.

His bedroom had a large entertainment unit built into the wall. Slipping the DVD into the player, he pulled up a chair, and sat a foot away from the giant screen. He had no films of his parents, just scrapbooks filled with aging photographs, and the ghostly images he carried in his head. He wondered what it would be like to see them again.

Moments later, he had his answer.