An Affair Of Sorcerers

'It costs money to build these people up; I personally insure everyone in my stable. After seeing which way Davidson went, you can understand why. Not everyone can handle success. I have to protect my investments; it's just good business.'

'What about all the money Harley Davidson earned? What happened to it? When I found him, he was living in a sinkhole. He couldn't have spent all the money he made on junk.'

Peth scowled again. 'Hey, I don't know what he did with his money; I wasn't his mother. I got twenty percent, period. What he did with the rest was his own business.' He smiled almost sweetly, like some grotesque, poisonous chemb. It suddenly occurred to me that the man was mad. 'Look,' he said quietly. 'I don't suppose you want to tell me who you're working for?'

'I don't suppose I do.'

'It can't be his folks; they wrote him off months ago because they didn't want a junkie for a son. I assume that's what he died of.'

'You assume right. I don't suppose you want to tell me the real reason why the kid left William Morris to sign with you?'

Peth squinted at me. 'We can make a deal, dwarf. Whatever your client's paying you, I'll go better; a lot better. I can make you a rich man.'

'What the hell could I possibly do for you?'

'One thing: tell me who sicced you on me. That's all. Tell me the name, forget about all this, then go off and enjoy your money.'

'It's a tempting offer, but I think you'd better clear it with Esobus.'

Peth's control snapped like a rotten string. He was up and out of his chair with a quickness that amazed me, skittering on his fat legs around the desk to stand in front of me. I found myself staring up into his florid face. His right fist was clenched, the ring finger pointed at me in the warning gesture April had described as the witch's athame.

'You're working with Daniel, aren't you?' he squeaked.

'Daniel who?' I asked, my heart starting to pound.

Peth slowly put his hand down and heaved a deep sigh. 'Look, Frederickson,' he said in a lower octave, reaching out with one thick hand, 'maybe we can still …'

I was sick, and my reflexes were only half what they usually were. Before I could back away, he'd wrapped the fingers of his right hand around my bandaged thumb and begun to twist. Now, for the first time since I'd walked into his office, Peth's eyes showed signs of life; they glowed like banked coals fanned by winds of hatred and sadism.

Searing pain arced through my finger, then scorched its way down to the pit of my stomach. I shouted with surprise and pain and reacted instinctively, rolling away from the torque of his grip to release the terrible pressure, then trying to twist free. Peth grunted with amusement at my feeble efforts and moved with me, maintaining and tightening his hold. He started to twist my thumb in the opposite direction, at the same time raising his jeweled fist in preparation for a blow on the top of my head that was guaranteed to crush my skull.

With Peth hanging on to my thumb, there was only one way to go-and that was where I went. I got my feet under me and pushed up hard, slamming my head into his groin. He shrieked, let go of my thumb and crumpled to the floor. The air exploded from his lungs and he lay there, gasping for. air and cradling his genitals with both hands.

Holding my thumb, I struggled to my feet once again and stood over Peth. I wanted to see his teeth on the floor; I reared back, ready to smash the toe of my shoe into his mouth. Suddenly the muscles in my stomach contracted with the worst pain I'd known yet. I groaned and doubled over with pain, then stumbled backward until I came up against the wall. I sat down hard, clutching at my stomach and fighting off spasms of nausea.

Peth, still rolled up in a fetal position with his hands in his crotch, looked over at me and cackled insanely. 'You're a dead man,' he wheezed, his breath whistling in his lungs.

'What's wrong with the girl, Peth?' I was doing a little wheezing of my own. We were two sidelined cripples, glaring at each other across an abyss of agony and hatred.

'What girl is that, dwarf?' His words triggered a new spasm of insane, high-pitched laughter. 'What girl? Oh, you are a dead dwarf!'

I stared into the leering face, desperately wanting to kick at it and keep kicking until the laughter had stopped and he'd told me what I wanted to know. But I knew that wasn't the way the scene would play. I was helpless; Peth could-and would-kill me as soon as he recovered. I had to get out of the office.

I finally managed to struggle to my feet and wobble out the door, leaving Peth rolling on the filthy floor in his three-piece suit. He was giggling hysterically. 'What girl?' he kept repeating in his high- pitched whine. 'Oh, man, you're one dead fucking dwarf!'

I couldn't stand straight. Sliding against the wall, I made it around a corner, then hunched down on the floor until the spasms of pain and nausea passed. I was sweating heavily, and it was ten minutes before I could straighten up. All the while I could hear Peth cackling in his office down the hall. I walked shakily down a rickety stairway to the street, then went to a phone booth on the corner of 42nd and Broadway. I was suffering a bad case of blurred tunnel vision, but I was determined not to waste time worrying about symptoms. I had to do what I had to do, and what would be would be.

Garth had just come in. 'Hey, brother,' he said, real anger humming in his voice, 'why didn't you tell me you'd been bitten by a rabid bat? For Christ's sake, why did I have to hear it from the doctor who treated you?'

'Garth … I need you.'

'What's the matter, Mongo?' he asked tensely. 'Where are you?'

'Corner of Forty-second and Broadway. I've got someone I think has the information we need.'

'Who?'

'Sandor Peth; Harley Davidson's manager.'

Garth's voice was thick with excitement and tension. 'What makes you think he knows anything?'

'… Witch,' I managed to say. 'Knows about Daniel. Garth, he's a crazy. We're going … to have to beat it out of him. That's why I need you. Can't. . handle it by myself.'

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then: 'Mongo, did you try to do a physical number on this guy?'

'Fat chance; I'm so weak I can hardly fucking walk. You've got to get over here.'

'Stop talking crazy, Mongo,' Garth said quietly but firmly.

'Garth, there's no time!' I shouted into the receiver. 'If you won't help me beat it out of him, I'll have to go back up there and try again myself!'

'Hold it!' Garth commanded sharply, as if sensing that I was about to hang up. 'Just listen to me! Don't panic; it's not like you.'

'Garth,' I mumbled, screwing my eyes shut against an awful dizziness that threatened to sweep me away with it. 'Kathy's on the verge of dying. What else can I do?'

'It's what you've already done that worries me,' my brother said evenly. 'Let's hope you haven't given this Peth cause to swear out a warrant on you.'

'He knows I know he's involved with that coven. He won't make any noises to the police.'

'You hope he won't. If he does, you're going to be hung up good. You wait right there; I'll come over and pick you up. We'll put a little heat on Peth together. But no rough stuff. You wait for me. Got it?'

'Yeah,' I said after a pause. I really had no choice. 'Hurry it up, will you?'

'I'll be there in a few minutes. Sit tight.'

I hung up, took a few deep breaths to settle my nerves and stomach, then went fishing in my pockets for another dime. I only had a nickel. Getting change in Manhattan is one of the most difficult feats known to man, and the newsstand on the corner was inexplicably shuttered. I hit four porno movies before I found a cashier who took pity on me and gave me change for a dollar. Armed with the precious coins, I went back to the phone booth and called the Medical Center.

'Reception.'

'What's Kathy Marlowe's condition?'

'Uh. . may I ask who this is?'