The Gift of Fury (5 page)

Of course, the last time I used the ring was to save both of our lives but that is another story. The fact Scott has just validated a number of my fears does little for my piece of mind.

“There, now you are free to ask questions, engage in wild speculation or panic.”

“What does this have to do with the ‘Seven’?”

Scott stiffens in his chair. It’s Hagan’s wolf-like grin that disturbs me. Whoever or whatever the Seven are, it can’t be good. Hagan only gets that look when he is there is a prospect of an epic and insanely dangerous battle in the not so distant future. He would call it another opportunity for glory.

“There are rumors, myths, dark whispers. They are too numerous to discount but too fantastic to believe. The ‘Seven’ are like the Boogeyman. They exist to frighten and warn us practitioners of the arts. If you believe in them, you also have to believe in Dragons.”

This proves even the most knowledgeable sorcerer on the planet doesn’t know everything. Scott’s belief in the supernatural doesn’t extend to magical creatures such as unicorns and dragons. Even though there are myths and legends about these creatures, he tends to discount them. It reminds me of how most scientists regard monster hunters and crypto zoologists. This quirk reminds me Scott has far more theoretical knowledge than he has practical experience. There are a lot of things the books leave out. That’s the difference between him and Sol. Sol has far more practical knowledge and experience when it comes to magic. He’s probably encountered a Dragon or even one of these Seven sometime in his life. That’s another reason why people refer to him as the Wise. It’s one thing to know the theory and history but another thing to actually be able to say “Yes, that’s the way it worked the last time I did it.”

I decide to break the news to Scott before Hagan can. “Um Dragons do exist. I saw one a while back.” I pause a moment to smile and add. “The jury is still out on the Boogeyman.”

He’s about ready to question me when he notices Hagan’s look. His voice drips with disgust as he remembers even he can be wrong. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’ve fought one before.”

Hagan merely pulls up his pants leg to reveal one of his leather boots. It could be alligator or snake skin but the scales are larger and darker. I resist the urge to get in a small dig. There is no need. Scott is willing to accept the word of a friend or respected colleague without hard evidence. He’ll save his arguments, if any, after he spends some time researching the knowledge imparted to him. In two months time, he’ll probably know more about dragons and the Boogeyman than me or Hagan ever will.

Scott straightens his tie as he speaks. It is obvious he is not too happy with the direction this conversation has gone. “Well, that does change things. I will need to research a bit more about the Seven and their servants. If they are real, the danger is greater than I imagined. In the meantime, you and the ring will have to stay out of trouble.”

That earns a laugh from Hagan which I try to ignore. Scott continues, favoring me with a smile. “I will also keep the authorities off of your back until we can deal with this situation.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I am happy to help but in the future, avoid punching anyone else famous. I hate paying off so many witnesses.”

Chapter Five

After Scott and Hagan let themselves out, I decide now is the time to do a little research. I had planned on going to karate class and working out. Any research into the Bloodstone will have to wait till my meeting with Sol. If Scott had any more information on the ring, he would have told me. There is also the Seven and Meredith to learn about. I’ll leave the Seven to Scott but that won’t stop me from pumping Sol for information on them. That leaves me with Meredith. As far as I’m concerned, he is the root of the problem. The sooner I get a handle on him, the better.

Even though I would rather lie in bed and rest, I get dressed. I take the train down and cross town. It’s my first and hopefully only mistake of the day. Though it is just after rush hour, the trains are still crowded. I spend the entire trip standing, feeling my knee get worse with each passing minute. By the time I get off the train, my knee is beginning to bother me more than Kara’s absence. She stayed with me long enough to see me safely home. I had hoped she would be back by now. She could help me fill in a few blanks concerning the Seven. I could tell something was troubling her in addition to everything that happened last night. I would really like to know what.

***

Libraries have always been a magical place for me. As a boy, I learned to appreciate my neighborhood library and all it held. I spent more time there than I did at the playground. Among the stacks, I could find endless hours of adventure or the cold hard truths of the universe. I could glimpse into the hearts and minds of scholars and poets and see the world through their eyes.

The New York Public Library system is one of the best in the country. You would be surprised by the amount and type of information you can dig up here. If there is a book you need and they don’t have it, the library’s database will tell you where to find it. Periodicals from all over the world are stored in PDF files and on microfiche ready to be perused. You can even find archived and historical records without making an extra trip to city hall. That is why the central library on Fifth Avenue and 40
^th
Street is one of my first stops whenever I start working on a case. This will be the best place to learn a little background on Jack Meredith.

Like many of the rich and famous, Meredith has an autobiography. There are also numerous newspaper articles and exerts from magazines to read. It only takes two hours and a small fortune to copy everything it all. It takes longer to shift through all the information and organize it. I could have done this at home but the time I spend now will save me a trip back here. It gives me a chance to make sure I have everything I need. On the way home, I stop and grab some Chinese take out food. I could have had it delivered but once I get started on this, I don’t want any interruptions. When I finally get home, I turn on my CD player before sitting down on my futon. Smooth jazz fills the studio apartment helping me focus on the puzzle that is Jack Meredith.

A lot of it is stuff I already knew, others I had assumed. My first assessment is that the man is part magician, part tactician and part ruthless business man. All of the press he has gotten has been good despite the rumors of misconduct and wrongdoing that hover around his business dealings like flies on a rotting corpse. Meredith seems to have mastered the art of letting people see what he wants them to see while hiding the ugly truth behind smoke and mirrors. The problem with being a magician is that you always have something to hide. If you’re not careful, someone might see past your illusions.

Nothing leaps out at me during my first pass through the information. There are no hidden messages or codes like “The duck is on the pond” but things fit together too easily for my liking. It’s too neat and hints at something more. The articles and book seem designed to craft an image. Meredith appears to be a philanthropist interested in giving back some of his riches to the community. This facade doesn’t fool anyone with half a brain. It wasn’t meant to. Anyone who digs a little deeper would see the same thing I see now; a money grubbing real estate tycoon. Many would be satisfied and stop digging but I know there is something more. Meredith wants people to see that part of him. It’s not all that he is.

I caught a glimpse of the real Jack Meredith when he cast his first spell on me. Here is a man who is all about power. I could see it clearly in his eyes. It’s his hobby, his passion, his addiction and he is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his ends. There are business rivals and enemies who suddenly decided to retire or just disappear. It’s not hard to imagine him sending his ex-bodyguard to make deal with his more troublesome opposition for him while he hides safe behind the mask of a philanthropist. Every calculated act of charity and compassion is designed to reap some benefit. Maybe that’s why he gravitated toward business where such characteristics are more times than not, an asset, and then finally to magic.

That raises other questions. What kind of sorcerer is he? When did he learn magic? Where did he learn it? Who taught him? Nothing here will answer those questions but there might be a clue to point me in the right direction.

I shift my attention from the news and magazine articles to his autobiography, “Survival of the Fittest”. It gives a sanitized account of his life and how he managed to survive in the dog eat dog world of real estate, reinforcing my opinion of him. There isn’t much here. One tidbit raises my suspicions. Meredith’s teenage years are only mentioned in passing. That doesn’t track. The rest of the book rambles on about all of Meredith’s accomplishments but there is nothing in his book about those years where he did well enough in school to get into Dartmouth. Was this when he learned about magic? I dig a little deeper and find what could be a clue. In his sophomore year, he transferred mid-term from Fordham Prep to an exclusive boarding school in Massachusetts. You don’t need to be a detective to know something happened, something conveniently edited out of his life story. This is part of what he’s hiding. It will take more digging to find out what it is but it’s a start.

The rest of the information I have concerns his holdings, at least the ones known to the general public. All of them, I remember from his brief television interview except one. The building is on 168
^th
Street in the Bronx, well away from his other projects. I frown, filing away the location in my memory. I’ll check this out after I see Sol. Most likely, it is nothing. My instincts tell me otherwise. It’s the only property that he isn’t developing into a condo. There has to be a reason for that.

I stretch and yawn. Today has been productive but I find myself wishing for Kara’s comforting presence. It’s strange for her to be gone for so long without a word. I know she can’t be with me every minute of the day. She has a life of her own, one I am getting more and more curious about. I just hope she’s all right.

***

My dream of Kara and room service in a five star hotel is rudely interrupted. The scene changes and spins out of control. The fantasy breaks apart under the stress but I don’t wake up. It is replaced by another far less pleasant dream.

I find myself standing in Tompkins Square Park near the dog run. It looks exactly like the original except things are a bit too perfect, a bit too clean. This is all a cover for something dark and twisted. It lurks just out of sight, ready to swoop down on me. More smoke and mirrors for the man sitting on the park bench feeding the pigeons.

I say his name as if it were a curse “Meredith.”

He looks up at me with his perfect smile, though I imagine it is not so perfect in the waking world. He acts like he is in complete control of the situation. I’m not sure he isn’t. Just how much power does this bastard have? No one wastes this kind of time, effort and energy on a dream sending. Not when it so easy to communicate. Why use a complex time consuming and exhausting spell when you can pick up a phone and call someone or better yet set up a video conference. Even Scott with his eccentricities regarding phones usually doesn’t indulge himself like this.

“Albritton” He says, trying to sound friendly. He hasn’t forgotten what I did and I’m glad. If he were here in the flesh, I would knock out a few more teeth for his trouble.

“We have unfinished business, you and I,” His laugh, not the one he uses at award banquets hints at what I have already knew. He’s insane. Not crazy like Hagan or even me but totally nuts. “You have cost me. If I had known how much you would try me, I would have put you down years ago. You will give me the Bloodstone.”

I frown at this. He’s still not making sense. I have no idea what the hell he is talking about and there is no use getting him to enlighten me. That’s not the purpose of this visit. It’s a warning and a threat. He is already fading away, leaving me alone in the park among the pigeons that now stare at me expectantly. They look very hungry, ready to swarm all over me in a scene from a Hitchcock movie. That’s when I hear Meredith’s voice on the wind.

“This is what awaits you at the end of the Longest Road.”

A moment later, something snakes around my neck, too fast for me to avoid but slow enough for me to get my fingers in the way. It doesn’t help. The silken cord tightens, choking the life out of me. I struggle and fight knowing I can’t win. There is no escape from this.

I bolt awake in my futon gasping for air. It’s 5 am. My heart beats like it wants to pop out of my chest like an alien horror in some B movie. I am unharmed but there is no way I’ll be able to get back to sleep again. I don’t want to. The only thing I want to do is to kill Meredith.

Chapter Six

The name on the lease and books is Upper West Side Karate but everyone just calls it “The Dojo”. That name invoked the true feel of the place and a warm feeling in the hearts of all those who trained there. The other name was just the one we used when we wrote checks to cover our tuition. For me, it is my second home, the place I could always go to when I needed to get away from it all. This was one of those times.

Shihan, my teacher’s title as well as the name all the students referred to him by with affection, had been a world champion. Now, he was content to teach, passing along all he had learned to his eager students. I remember when I first thought about training here before Kara stepped back into my life again.

One of my friends suggested I watch a few classes and see if this was for me. As luck would have it, the first class I saw was the advanced fighting class held every Friday night. In the tiny confines of this dojo, I saw something special. It was one of the most intense things I had ever witnessed. Black, brown, green and even a few yellow belts fought their private wars. On the surface it looked like no one was taking any prisoners. If you looked deeper you could tell something else was going on. Despite the violence and brutality, there was also an element of control, respect, and above all friendship. Even though there were a few injuries, no one was actually trying to hurt, kill or maim anyone. These people were brothers and sisters, each here to perfect their art and in a way themselves through this trial by fire. When it was all over, there were no hard feelings. Everyone shook hands and bowed. After class, some continued to train while others went out on the town together. That night, I said to myself, this is something I want to be a part of. Fifteen years later, I haven’t regretted my decision.