Dark Arts (30 page)

“That concludes the calling of this circle,”
Susan said. “Thank you and farewell to all the beings that bore
witness, provided protection, and celebrated with us. You are
welcome to stay for the evening if you do no harm, and depart
peacefully by morning.”

The glimmering creatures amongst the
branches and their darker counterparts skittered back into the
shadows, or took wing, flying for the stars. Miranda joined
Maxwell, giving him a hug and a kiss before anyone else could
congratulate him. “Now we can have a future,” she said.

“It’s about time,” Bernie said, handing him
a two-paneled robe like the one he was wearing then embracing him
briefly. “Welcome to the real world.”

“The crypt is a lot like the one just
outside Liverpool, the original Third Spiral temple,” Miranda said.
“There’s another one in Sicily, but it’s smaller.” They made their
way to the outermost tunnel, it ran in a large circle underground,
around the ritual site in the center.

“How long have you known about this place?”
Maxwell asked.

“I knew this was here, but this is my first
real look around.”

The tunnel was wide enough for two people to
walk through, and just tall enough so Bernie and Allen didn’t have
to duck as they walked. They led the way with gas burning lanterns
that cast a white light in all directions. “Who made this
place?”

“My grandfather, and my great grandfather,”
Bernie replied. “They made most of their living machining tools for
the mining companies here, farming was a sideline.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten that bit,” Maxwell said.
“I guess having the right tools for the job, they got to it.”

“The outer expansion took the longest,”
Allen said. “The main areas took a month, it was easy to find
experienced miners when my grandfather was alive. When my dad
expanded the crypts, carving the outer ring, it took a summer and
most of the fall. Most of his generation of the Third Spiral didn’t
work underground. Now, I think there may be three or four members
who are miners. Expanding would take years.”

They reached the crypt section and Maxwell
couldn’t help but notice that most of the spaces were empty, the
plates covering the pre-dug shelves left blank. They made their way
past dozens of unmarked spots. “Don’t think you’ll have to worry
about expanding for awhile.”

“True,” Allen said. “There are enough spots
for a couple generations of us, and our number is shrinking. Not as
many people are finding their way to believing. Ah, here it is,” he
said, putting his lantern on a steel peg driven into the stone.
“I’ve wanted to show you this for years, it’s where your father is
interred. Take as long as you like.”

Maxwell looked at the polished silver coated
plate covering a spot in the cave wall. “His ashes are in
here?”

“Yes, you can look at the urn if you like,”
Allen said. “In your father’s case, there’s nothing to disturb.
Some of the urns are locked to prevent any contact, like Fiona
O’Dell’s.”

“Never heard of her,” Maxwell said.

“Samuel’s first wife, she became his spirit
guide once she died. She talks to him through that pocket watch
using a code,” Bernie said.

“That explains a few things, and,
considering how many wives he’s had since, must be bloody awkward,”
Maxwell said.

“Sam says she got over it after wife number
three,” Allen said as he moved on down the hallway, letting
Bernie’s lantern guide him.

“Do you want me to stay?” Miranda asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Besides, there won’t be
any chattering here. As far as I can sense, this is a little dark
hole with a pot of ashes inside. Good to know where the old man’s
ashes ended up though.” Maxwell opened the door and found a key
beside the simple bronze urn. “Hullo, Dad,” he said as he took the
key and tried it in the lock on the door protecting his father’s
remains. It worked, so he took a moment to look at the urn then
locked the door. “Wish I believed sooner,” he said.

Miranda took his hand, but didn’t comment.
Maxwell stared at the inscription on the door.

CHARLES FOSTER
LEADER, TEACHER, FRIEND
FATHER
1910-1969

“We were quite a pair when I was very young.
I believed everything he told me then, and had to know everything
he was doing, where he was when he was home. I remember departures
and greetings the most, if I’m being honest,” Maxwell said. “Wish I
didn’t forget magic when I got a little older. I think it was what
he always said about my mother that killed that in me.”

“What did he tell you?” Miranda asked.

“That she wouldn’t answer if we called out
to her spirit, she’d wandered too far and gotten into trouble, like
she did when she was alive. He blamed her for a lot, I think. She
was from a rough caste though, poor people who never recovered from
being wrecked during the Second World War. I met my grandpa from
that side, grizzled drunk who liked to tell people how worthless
they are. Barely remember him, but I was afraid of him the one time
I met him, that’s hard to forget. Don’t even remember why, but my
father never let him near me again.”

“What happened to your mother?” Miranda
asked tentatively.

“Jumped off Humber Bridge when I was three.
She had already left me and Dad, still can’t picture my father
changing diapers though.” He traced the letters on the cold metal
with his fingers and let a tear roll down his cheek. “Big lessons
today. Finally feel like I’m almost all the way home, I even
remember all that time with you when we were young, and you’re
here.” He squeezed her hand a little. “But we’re never all the way
home again when the parents are gone, are we? Never thought I’d
miss this old geezer again.”

Miranda wrapped her arms around him as he
allowed himself to think about the endless fights he had with his
father, and all the discord his disbelief caused. The tears
came.

“We’ll build a new home,” Miranda whispered
to him. “Maybe we’ll make one here, maybe in New York, but it’ll be
ours.”

The celebration was well under way when
Maxwell and Miranda emerged from the Third Spiral. By the light of
their lamp they made their way down the path to the private beach,
which was filled with almost all the attendees. The warm evening
air was a relief after the cool damp of the underground temple and
its catacombs.

The one thing he had to deal with nagged at
him, and he wasn’t the only one, from the look on Samuel and
Susan’s faces when they approached him and Miranda on the beach.
“We have to talk,” Susan said.

They were led to a circle of folding chairs
around a small folding table, where Maxwell put his lantern and
turned it down. “The Dawn Shard,” he said.

“Are you sure you’re not a little psychic?”
Samuel said.

“Don’t be silly, it’s obvious,” Gladys said
as she sat down at the table. “Bernie is driving Scott home, he’s
going to the hospital early tomorrow morning. We’d be having a
meeting of two good circles if he were here. It was good practicing
with you again, Samuel.”

“You think Bernie, Max and I are that good
together?” Miranda asked.

“Anyone can see it when the three of you are
in the same room, especially when you play music together,” Susan
said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You may even take your place in the Third
Spiral as the Prime Trio, but that’s a few decades away, no need to
get ahead of ourselves,” Samuel said.

“That’s not getting ahead, power is power,
harmony is harmony, balance is balance,” Gladys said. “All that’s
missing is wisdom, and I think they’re catching up quickly.”

“But are they ready to face what’s growing
at the crossroads?” Susan said. “I don’t think so. Something old
has come, Maxwell saw it earlier, when he was taking his
cuttings.”

“How do you know?” Gladys asked.

“I followed him with the sight,” Susan
replied, crossing her arms. “This close to the Gathering time,
almost anyone with the right training can do it, we don’t all have
to be naturals.”

“But that brings us back around to the
question,” Samuel said. “Are they ready to face something like
that? Maxwell can discard fear like an old peel, but does he know
enough to recognize the thing’s true nature and find a way to send
it on its way?”

“I don’t think they realize we’re still
here,” Miranda whispered to Maxwell.

“Let’s see how long it goes on,” he muttered
in return.

“I’m sorry,” Gladys said. “It’s only that
there’s been no time for us to talk like this. Nothing was certain
until you were initiated, dear,” she told Maxwell. “And with you
thinking about running off to New York together, we have to wonder
how close your bond with Bernie really is.”

“I hate it when you do that,” Miranda told
her. “Stop eavesdropping, just because you have the sight, doesn’t
mean my privacy goes the way of the dodo.”

“There is a lot going on this week, dear,”
Gladys explained. “I gave you privacy when it was appropriate, and
I was afraid we’d get left out on some important decisions, like
you taking Max back to New York with you so soon. Give this place
some time.”

“I promised I would, so I will, just stop
listening in.”

“Can we get back to the point?” Samuel said.
“We have to cleanse the crossroads, and then Maxwell has to calm
the Dawn Shard again. He had it for weeks, and there were no
problems, were there?”

“No, no bumps in the night or strange things
happened while the book and the shard were together and we were on
the road,” Maxwell said. “Scott may have disturbed the seal when he
went digging though.”

“That seal is all that’s keeping whatever’s
coming through at the crossroads in place,” Susan said. “It won’t
last much longer, a night or two, maybe. Then there is Panos, we
are sure he possessed Zachary to do his dirty work.”

Maxwell couldn’t believe that he’d almost
forgotten Zachary’s fate during the initiation and the tour
afterwards. He hadn’t forgotten the solution to Panos, however.
“That is part of the same problem.” He said. “The Dawn Shard knows
him, I’m sure I can use it to call his soul out of whoever he’s
wearing now. It’s a direct solution, but a good one.”

“But there’s a chance he’d be attached to
the Dawn Shard then,” Samuel said.

“Only until I find out how to release him,
if it comes to that. Even if I fail in that for a few years, maybe
decades, I think it would serve him right,” Maxwell said. “Bugger
deserves worse.”

“So, we recover the stone tomorrow when the
sun is high,” Samuel said.

“Some people call that ‘noon’,” Susan said.
“But I agree.”

“So do I,” Gladys said. “Until then, you two
must enjoy, celebrate.”

“No more watching,” Miranda said. “Or I’ll
make sure you see something you wish you hadn’t.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it all,” her aunt
replied.

“I hope not,” Maxwell said, suddenly feeling
less than comfortable in a robe that had a tendency to slip.

“Don’t worry,” Gladys said. “I may do a fair
bit of celebrating myself.”

“Okay,” Miranda said, throwing her hands up.
“Now I’m glad I don’t have the sight.”

“Have fun,” Samuel said, coughing. “This
time of your lives will not come twice.”

There was no end of food, drink, good people
and even music as instruments were passed from one set of skilled
hands to another throughout the night. The light of the stars and
moon were only outdone by the bonfires, as Miranda and Maxwell made
their way from circle to circle.

They were welcome everywhere, and when they
became more interested in each other than the festivities, and made
to retreat to the main cabin, there were boos and well-wishes in
almost equal measure. Maxwell’s hands kept on finding their way to
her bare sides, her hips, and her lips sought his more often as
midnight approached.

By the time the clock hands pointed up, they
were in their room, the robes on the floor, and the covers pulled
off. “I can only see my future with you,” Miranda said as she
wrapped her legs around him.

“I’ll do anything for that,” he told her,
staring into her brown eyes. “Anything for you.”

Maxwell and Miranda were up at ten the next
morning, thanks to several knocks on the door. Maxwell answered the
second, only to discover that no one was there. He returned to bed,
pulling her into his arms. “Bloody ding-dong ditch.”

“Something Gladys does, tells people to
knock on my door if they’re going in that direction. She’s probably
telling everyone whose going to the bathroom to do it as they go
by.”

“That’s dirty.”

“It works,” Miranda sighed. “I’m awake.”

They got up, showered and headed downstairs,
where Maxwell immediately saw Bernie sitting alone at a table,
coffee cup in hand, a newspaper in the other. It was immediately
evident that his friend’s mood was rotten. “I’ll meet you in the
kitchen,” Maxwell told Miranda as they reached the bottom of the
stairs.

“Uh-huh,” she replied. “I’ll get you coffee
and make you a plate, you see what’s up with Stormy Weathers over
there.”

“You’re amazin’,” he said as she split
off.

“I know,” she smiled back.

“Scott, his parents, and a whole bunch of
people are at the hospital, blocking people from April,” Bernie
said. “Sands put a little piece in the paper this morning, there
are so many lookey-loos at the hospital now that there are police
guarding her room.” He handed that day’s Nickel City Gazette, a
paper Steven Sands was part owner of, to Maxwell.

SUDBURY SLASHER MUTILATION-SUICIDE

There was a publicity shot of Zachary in
mid-stage strut, screaming into his microphone, and another of the
whole band. Set into the middle of the article that dominated the
front page was a picture of April, most likely from her last year
of high school.