The Darkness of Shadows (10 page)

I cleared my throat. “Sir, do you have something to tell us or not?”

“Will you please give me a minute to collect my thoughts?” Walter leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Please sit down. All right. These are from your father’s grimoires.”

Grimoires? Was that French?

“Sir, how do you know my father?”

“I went to college with your parents,” he said. “We had a falling out from which we never recovered, but I’m terribly excited about this find!”

“What’s a ‘grimoire’?” Val said.

“They’re like magical training books,” Walter said. “They can be works of art.” He crooked a finger at us. We leaned forward, keeping as safe a distance as was polite.

He looked at me and pointed with his pen to the top of the drawing: a quartet of skulls carved with swirls and crosses.

“These represent chaos magic, the magic your parents chose to practice. This is the portal where the spirits and souls enter our world.”

“Sir, are you serious?”
And now, the Amazing William and his lovely assistant, Karen!

“Portal?” Val’s eyes narrowed a bit. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. A faint drum solo started as she rapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, indicating that her bullshit sensor was about to implode. “What’s chaos magic?”

“It borrows from other beliefs, allowing you create your own magical style,” Walter said. “I guess what you young people might call ‘free style.’”

The pen moved to the left, where a dragon curled around an intricately carved cross.

“This gives spirits a choice to remain in their world or to come to this one.”

His pen tapped as if sending out Morse code.

“To the right, the skeleton with the wings represents their fate. And at the bottom is their gateway.” A skeleton head peered out at me from the hilt of a sword with semicircular plates on either side protecting it. Another dragon wrapped itself around the blade, also protecting the skull, its head pointing upward.

Evidently dragons were in that season.

“Do you know what sigils and runes are?”

“Not really, sir,” I said. Val and I eased away.

“Runes … The name itself is taken to mean ‘secret—something hidden.’” He pointed to some of the lines that made no sense to me. “Here—a sigil is a symbol created for a specific magical purpose, of your own volition, as your father did here. Your father referred to certain runes as his shadows.”

I started to spin my cane. Just a bit at first, and then a full-fledged drilling for oil move took over.

“Nat,” Val said. I stopped.

“Make sense?” he said.

We nodded and he continued.

“Your parents also practiced thaumaturgy.”

I stared at him.

“Let me see. Wonderworking?”

“Nope, still nothing.”

“A branch of magic concerned with spiritual matters—”

“Sir, layman’s terms please.”

“Hmm.” He sighed. “Something like the material effect produced by a thaumaturgical device, brought about by a ritual. It influences the material sphere by way of a more subtle, sympathetic magic.”

I blinked a few times. “You’re talking voodoo dolls, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes and no.”

Val’s agitation grew, her foot tapping out a beat, joining her finger drumming in the song of disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “Magic’s all smoke and mirrors. None of it’s real.”

Walter looked like someone shot lemon juice in his eyes. He blinked a myriad of times and then brought himself back.

Grimoires, spirits, made-up magic. It couldn’t be nice like Samantha on
Bewitched
? Oh no! Let’s call spirits from hell! Raise zombies and shit! Un-friggin’-believable. On the other hand … my father killed a cat and brought it back to life.

Walter drew an air circle above the page, cupped his chin in his free hand and addressed me directly.

“This is totally perplexing. I’ve been doing this for years and I can’t explain the puzzle you’ve brought me. A piece is missing though. An entire sequence. Do you know where the other pages are?”

Alarm bells started to go off. For all I knew, this guy was working with my father.

“No, we don’t. Nat, let’s go.” Val snatched the folder from the desk and motioned me to the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Young.”

“Wait!” Walter reached for my arm and stopped short as if he forgot something. “Natalie, if you want to talk some more, I’ll be here.”

Silence passed for conversation until we were in the safety of Val’s car.

“Weird,” Val said.

“Big time. You know that guy?” The dashboard clock said six-thirty and I was ravenous. Or was it the adrenaline rush?

“Never seen him before. He gives me the creeps. You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Uh huh.” She made a move that would have impressed a professional racecar driver. “He asked about the missing pages, which worries me. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“I’m starving.” Her stomach growled in agreement. “I know a great seafood place not far from here.”

“Sounds good.”

As we drove, columns of shadows alternated between the buildings, reaching down the streets in front and in back of us. The setting sun bounced off the mix of buildings, the glass reflecting the waning beams of the day.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Yes, I’ll buy dinner.”

“Well, if you insist, but that wasn’t my question.”

“Question away.”

“Do you believe anything he said?”

I thought about everything I’d seen and heard since my father popped back into my life. I considered telling Val about Rufus, but I didn’t want her to call the men in white coats just yet.

“Hell no.”

And we drove through the Canyon of Heroes.

P
ortals, spirits, souls, gateways, skulls, skeletons, and dragons. Such things didn’t belong in Mrs. Guerrero’s house, but she was at the movies, so no harm, no foul.

We scoured the copy of the completed grimoire page.

“The graphics have to be tied together by something.” I pointed to Val’s laptop. “Can you look up what a rune is?”

Val smiled as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“‘Different runes are attributed with different powers, some being imbued with the power to bring that which is dead to life.’” She raised an eyebrow. “Walter failed to mention that.”

“How about sigils?”

“‘An inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power.’ So if we put them all together, we have a new reality show.” Val made air quotes. “
Chaos Magic and the Grimoires
.”

I laughed. “So the spiral’s in the middle of everything and it represents life?”

Val checked her notes. “Right, a type of conduit through which spiritual and physical energies flow. And the chevrons surrounding the spiral signify protection.”

There were a few we couldn’t figure out—strange creations our research couldn’t explain. Probably more sigils, since according to Walter you could make up your own.

He’d also said that the outer designs represented four points: chaos magic, a choice, the spirit’s fate, and a gateway.

For once, I wasn’t Miss Tardy to the party. My father just went from psychotic bastard to paranormal megalomaniac with the means to accomplish what he wanted.

He wanted to raise the dead, and it seemed like he needed what was on my back to do it.

“Something else happened with my father at my apartment,” I said. “He killed a cat and, um … brought it back to life. I think that’s what all this is about: raising the dead.”

Val’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No—well, yeah, probably, but—”

“I’m taking you to see Dr. Carberry.”

This parade was heading right down Suck Street.

“No way!
I
don’t even like being in my head, no way I’m letting a stranger in there.”

She suppressed a laugh. “So, what you’re saying is that your dad waved a magic wand and abracadabra, here’s your new zombie cat?”

“I know what I saw.”

She did the Vanna White arm sweep across the table.

“You can’t possibly believe any of this stuff. Walter’s just a freak.”

My breathing was shallow as I tried to hide my anger.

“You go to church and pray to something you can’t see, believe in all the stories they tell you. Just because I don’t share your beliefs doesn’t mean they don’t exist, and it doesn’t mean I don’t support you.”

“That’s not the point,” she said. “They abused you because they were insane. What could they possibly want with raising the dead?”

“My father said he wouldn’t let decades of work go to waste. That he needed me—and my mom.”

Val stood tall and lean, her head lolled to one side, her arms outstretched. The moaning started as she shuffled toward me.

“I want to eat your brains,” she said, with the appropriate undead head bob.

It was funny, but her timing sucked.

“FUCK YOU!” I pushed off the chair and limped past her to my room.

The slamming of the door muffled the moaning and shuffling.

I threw my cane at the bed. It ricocheted off the mattress and slammed into my stomach.

Perfect.

I eased into the wing chair. So Val didn’t believe me. Couldn’t blame her. Maybe I had suffered one too many blows to the head.

I reached for the notebook, flipped to a blank page, and started doodling.

Beyond the closed door, the blender whirred to life. A few minutes later, the door opened and in walked Val, free of the zombie virus. She held two large tumblers with straws. I was still pissed, but I recognized a peace offering when I saw it: a vanilla peanut butter milkshake.

She sat on the arm of the chair and nudged my shoulder. I ignored her and continued my masterpiece.

“Nice stick figures. Is that shark chomping on me or your dad?” She nudged my shoulder again. “Will you take one please?”

“Thanks.” My voice flat.

“What’s with the picture?”

“Originally, I was going to let nature’s cleanup crew take care of the body. Now, I’m not sure how …”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

“We are not slicing and dicing anything. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.”

“Gross! Anyway, I think your dad’s vacation should end in Camden.”

Camden, New Jersey, has the distinction of being named one of the most dangerous cities in the nation.

“Maybe a drug deal gone bad?”

“Dump and run, then we’re done.” Val gave me a close-lipped smile. “About before … I’m sorry I made fun of you, but … you’ve never really believed—”

“In anything.” I took a long pull on the straw. Extra thick and creamy. Mmm!

“Not true,” Val said. “But you have to admit this is way out there, for both of us.”

“I know you think I’m crazy, but I really saw it. And entering his world is the only way I can get into his head.” I swished the straw around the glass. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Her shake was gone and she was eyeing mine. “I’m going to help you figure this out.”

“Really?” I handed her my glass.

“Yes, but I can’t help tossing in a wiseass comment when it’s warranted.”

“It’s all about the comedy,” I said.

She nodded as she finished the shake.

“And the timing,” I said, breaking a small smile.