Dark Arts (8 page)

“Sorry,” Miranda said, slowing the car down
to a reasonable speed, probably for appearances sake.

“Don’t worry, I like eggs.”

“Max,” Miranda said. “Did he forget me? Is
he all right with women? I mean, I saw a lot in New York, people
treating girls like they were nothing, guys who just did their
business when they got an opening, wiped it off on the sheets and
left the door open on their way out.”

“Damn, who did you hang out with?” Bernie
asked, taken aback by the mental image.

“That’s another conversation, focus,”
Miranda said as she parked the car at the back of a long line of
vehicles along the farm roadsides. “Should I just suck it up and
enjoy the Gathering then go back to my Mom’s house, or is he worth
my time? I know you’re his friend but, you’re mine too.”

There she was, the young girl Bernie
remembered from when they were thirteen, right before she had to
leave. Those brown eyes may have been decorated by a little mascara
since then, but he could still see innocence, and a person who
didn’t want to be hurt. That’s why he told her the truth. “Max has
done well with his strong, silent, exotic British routine on the
road,” Bernie said. “But he’s not a pickup artist, he picked and
chose from what came to him, maybe nine times since we started
touring three years ago.”

“Nine times?” she asked, her expression
unreadable.

“Well, he could have had ten times that, I
mean, sometimes they really threw themselves at him, I’m not even
exaggerating. Look at Zack, his night isn’t finished if he hasn’t
dragged some girl into a bathroom stall.”

“Nine is low,” Miranda said. “I had two
boyfriends in Spain, then there were three guys in New York.”

“I don’t need to know,” Bernie said, getting
out of the car.

Miranda laughed, “I don’t get that. Guys can
talk about who they get it on with, where, how and how many but the
moment a woman says she’s had a bit of fun, she’s a slut, and no
one wants to hear it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Bernie replied. “I just
don’t think of you like that, I always pictured a little girl when
I read your letters, all eleven of them.”

“Well, me and my last Spanish boy went
through condoms like tissues in a flu epidemic,” Miranda said,
taunting Bernie. “He worshipped me like a Goddess, and followed me
around like a puppy, and he had just as much energy. It was
amazing.”

The sound of a car door slamming behind them
made them both jump. Bernie watched as a couple old enough to be
their parents walked past, the woman staring daggers at Miranda.
“Hello, Miss Parillo,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Good day,” she said as she shuffled past
with a small cooler in one hand and her purse tightly clutched
under her arm.

“You know her?” Miranda asked.

“Lives down the street from you,” Bernie
replied. “She’s probably just visiting for the barbeque tonight,
seeing how her daughters are settling in. You’ll be seeing her
around.”

“Wonderful,” Miranda said. “They probably
think Max is an angel on two wheels too, while I’ll be known as the
harlot of Chelmsford. Just pin a scarlet letter on me.”

“Oh no, Max is not what you’d call a
community favorite. That bike of his and stubborn streak have
gotten him into a few fights, one with a councilman’s son. He
didn’t start that one though. Actually, Max has never swung
first.”

“Does he know what’s going on with him? That
he’s going to wake up to the brighter world whether he likes it or
not?”

“Yes, I think he’s starting to realize that
he’s opening up to the spirit world, mostly thanks to those things
he picked up. Why?”

“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t
believe,” Miranda said quietly. “I’ve known him for less than a
day, and I want him to be one of us, I want to know him,” she
stopped voicing her thought and for a few minutes they just walked
down the drive between the parked cars. Most of the cars would be
gone that evening. They belonged to the parents who had come from
across North America, all people who knew of the Circle, all people
that Bernie had heard of through the letters to his father
preceding their coming. This was the festival that celebrated the
deepest kind of connection to nature and the spirit world. An
earlier Gathering brought Maxwell and his father to their shores.
Practitioners everywhere agreed that the world needed more healing,
and the few festivals that celebrated nature were becoming larger
and larger.

“I think he wants the same thing, Miranda,”
Bernie said.

“Good,” she replied. She stepped in front of
him then, barely giving him enough time to stop, and looked at him,
deadly serious. “I’ve been having visions too, just a couple.”

“About you and Max?”

“No, I can’t see Max, I can’t see myself,”
she replied. “About you. I want you to promise me something.”

“Sure, what?”

“Seriously,” she said. “You promise me that
you be careful if you see something that’s too good to be true.
Remember the rule: if it seems too good, it’s rarely true.”

“You’re unforgettable, babe,” Bernie said
with a wink.

“Seriously!” She pounded his chest.

“Fine, I’ll be careful.”

“Okay.” She hugged him and kissed him on the
cheek. “So, what is Max like now? What’s the one thing I have to
know?”

“Well,” Bernie said as they started walking
again. The school bus was just in sight, painted black, parked on
the lawn just inside the farm fencing. “He has no idea, but
sensitive people can feel him coming. It’s like there’s a low
rumble only a few people can hear. He’s really all heart underneath
all that leather and British, more of a gentleman than he wants
anyone to know. Doesn’t like swimming much, sorry,” Bernie said,
glancing at her swimsuit.

“Okay,” Miranda said. “I’m sure I can lure
him into the water if I want to.”

“Maybe, but the cardinal sin with Max is
trying to talk about his father. He’ll talk about him on his own
when he wants to, but he saw all those lessons in mysticism and
history and the occult as a kind of torture. Maybe that’ll change,
but he’s still going to resent his dad for it for a long time. I
was there, I was interested most of the time, and the way his
father shoved it into our heads, it wasn’t good. Then he’d leave
for weeks, or months and come back with something that just didn’t
matter to Max. Even the money his dad made, a lot sometimes, didn’t
impress him. He wanted a dad, and I think that’s why he’s a brother
to me, because my father took care of most of that, even before
Charles died.”

“Okay, groovy,” Miranda said. “I mean, I’m
curious, I’ve read everything Max’s dad published, but I won’t
bring it up.”

“Other than that, I don’t know, just watch
him. My father told me to stay close because he knows Max is about
to hit a wall, he’s refused to believe in spiritualism all his
life, now there’s no way he’ll get around it. He’s going to need
us.” He looked at Miranda, realizing that he’d just said ‘us’
instead of ‘me.’ “You are going to help me watch him, right?”

“You think he’d take help from someone he
barely knows? It’s been years.”

“From you? Sure,” Bernie said. “I mean, does
it feel like you’ve been gone for years? I mean, other than a few
obvious changes-“ he was interrupted by the sight of his Scott
running out from the bus, slamming the rear door shut, then pushing
the motorcycle ramp up over it and trying to secure the hooks that
were meant to keep it there.

“I see the agenda of our system! Corrupt!
Corruption!” they could hear someone shout from the inside.
“Idolatry! The man with the brightest eyes rules the day, and we
are dazzled!”

“That’s Zack, he’s gone off the deep end,”
Bernie said, breaking into a run towards the bus. He was surprised
to see Miranda pass him.

“Man, oh man,” Scott said. “I’m glad to see
you!”

Bernie helped him finish closing the latch
to the motorcycle ramp that Max used to store his bike in the back
of the bus. It also kept the back door closed tight. People were
starting to gather, to witness whatever bad trip was taking place
inside the black bus.

“Max chased him onto the bus,” the drummer
said. “They’re in there now.”

“How much LSD is he on?” Miranda asked.

“Well, the fuzz stopped us this morning,”
Bernie started.

“More like noon,” Scott added. “They
searched us, thank god we finished smoking my weed last night, so
they didn’t find anything on me, but Zack bought a whole vial of
LSD from some bikers outside of Ottawa, and it was almost full. He
told the cops it was eye drops, and then he puts a drop into each
eye, I think one took two drops, but I wasn’t close enough.”

“Yup, one eye took two,” Bernie
confirmed.

“Black leather heathen!” Zack shouted from
inside the bus. “You have me cornered, but you come with envy in
your heart, and so your lies may as well be told to fish! No ears!
They go pwah, pwah, pwah!”

“Yes, you’re the greatest lead singer the
world has ever seen,” Maxwell could be heard saying through the
open windows on the side of the bus.

“Flatterer! Pimp! Ennnglishmaaannnnn!” Zack
screamed as the sounds of bottles and other random articles were
heard being jostled and tipped.

Bernie came around the side of the bus in
time to see Max stride all the way to the front, then through the
folding doors. He pulled them closed behind him and put a broom
handle through the loop on the front so they stayed that way.
“Git!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Does anyone have a cigarette?
I’m not calm enough for this,” he said, pulling his leather jacket
off. Bernie took it and hung it over a nearby lawn chair.

“Nothing to see here!” Maxwell shouted to
the two dozen people beginning to gather. “Man’s diabetic, just
needs his shot, and someone’s coming with it now.”

“Diabolical!” Zack shouted, poking his head
and one shoulder through an open window. His eyes were wild, his
long hair was disheveled to the point of looking like three
sparrows’ nests. “He’ll castrate all of you!”

“Very bad reaction,” Max countered.

Miranda’s Aunt Susanna added; “Please, go
for a swim, it’s too hot to stand around in the grass. Shoo,” and
to Bernie’s surprise, they listened. She carried an open tin with
cheese, crackers and sandwiches inside. The bottom had a separate
compartment for ice. “Is it peyote?” she asked, her Italian accent
in full evidence.

Their drummer lit a cigarette and handed it
to Max, who took a long draw and let it out slowly. “Worse,” he
said as he finished. “About half an ounce of LSD. May I?”

Susanna brought the large tin container
forward and raised it as it swung a little on its handle. “You must
be hungry.”

“Famished,” Max said. “Not just for me
though.” He took a slice of cheese and a half sandwich and stuffed
half of both in his mouth.

“Can you really calm him down from this?”
Miranda asked.

“I am the model of calm!” Zachary barked.
“Clouds and naked babies singing harps!”

“He can,” Scott replied. “But he can’t if
he’s high strung. Man, you gotta loosen up, what’s got you
tense?”

Bernie barely caught Max’s glance towards
Miranda, and silently wondered what could be so wrong about her
that his best friend would see her as a source of stress. She
didn’t say anything but walked away, towards the main house.

“Ooh, who’s the new girl?” Zack asked from
the window. “Sad to see her leave, love to watch her walk
away!”

Maxwell stabbed two pointing fingers towards
Zackary with a murderous look. “Git!”

“Retreat!” howled Zachary as he fell back
into the bus.

Maxwell put the second half of the sandwich
back and hurried the rest of his chewing as he walked after Miranda
in a hurry. She turned towards him when he’d crossed half the
distance. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. Not the greatest thing
he could have said in that circumstance, as far as Bernie was
concerned. “Best thing about coming home is meeting you again.”

“I enjoyed our ride,” Bernie barely heard
her say. It wasn’t in her nature to look nervous, it didn’t seem
like something that happened to her often, but she definitely
seemed like it then, even though she had turned around and was
closing the distance between them.

“When did Max get a new girlfriend? She’s
right and tight,” Scott said.

“Thank you,” Susanne said. “Isn’t my niece
lovely?”

“Um, sorry, ma’am,” he replied
sheepishly.

Maxwell and Miranda came back down to the
bus’s side door. Both of them looked more contented than he’d seen
either of them all day. “Feeling better,” Max said, taking another
pull on his cigarette. “I’m afraid mental boy inside is going to
get the rest of those sandwiches,” he told Susanne. “It’ll give him
something to do once he calms down. Mind if I take that peeler
too?”

“If I can have it back when you’re
finished?” Susanne said uncertainly. “What are you going to do with
it?”

“Don’t worry, I’m the sane one, you’ll get
it back,” he reassured her. “Might be tomorrow though, but we have
a few in the main house.” He finished the second half of his
sandwich, then his cigarette and took the orange peeler out of the
bottom of the tin. He looked to Bernie and nodded. “Get that ciggy
and follow me.”

Bernie snatched Scott’s freshly lit
cigarette out of his mouth and followed Maxwell onto the bus with
Miranda in tow. Scott closed the folding doors behind.

There were two slim bunks in the middle of
the bus with a narrow bed behind. Zack was sitting cross-legged on
the bottom left bunk in his underwear. “The heat frees me,” he
said, wiping sweat off his chest with a tattered sheet. “I shed my
sins and inhibitions simultaneously. I will be pure.”

Max put the tin on one of the front seats,
sliding the orange peeler into his back pocket. “How’re you feeling
now?”