Disappearing Nightly (13 page)

“Excuse me?” said the man on the doorstep.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I think we’re closed now.”

“I’m looking for Dr. Zadok.” He was tall, slim, dressed in a nice casual-wear suit without a tie. Clean-shaven, he appeared to be about fifty, looked East Indian and spoke with a Masterpiece Theater accent.

“He’s not in just now. But if you’ll come back during business hours tomorrow…”

“This isn’t bookstore business. May I wait for him?”

The man seemed quite respectable, so I decided to let him in. Just to be on the safe side, though, I said
, “Actually, Max is on his way here now. Should be just a few minutes.”

“He’s all right, then?” the stranger asked eagerly.

I glanced at him in surprise as I turned on some lights. “Yes.” I showed him toward the table and chairs. “Did you have reason to think he wasn’t?”

“He hasn’t answered any of my recent e-mails.”

“He doesn’t have a computer anymore,” I said.

The stranger stared at me for a moment, then closed his eyes. His lips worked silently, and I had the impression he was trying to control his temper. “Ah,” he said at last, opening his eyes. “Well, then. That explains it. And I seem to have wasted a trip.”

“Why didn’t you just phone?”

“I did. Several times. No answer.”

“Oh.” I had already noticed that Max had no answering machine. “Well, he’s been out of the shop a lot lately, Mr….”

He exclaimed, “I’m so sorry! Do forgive my lapse of manners. Allow me to introduce myself. Lysander Singh.”

“Esther Diamond.” We shook hands, then took our seats. “Can I offer you something? Tea? Water? Um…” I wasn’t sure what else we had on hand. I definitely didn’t want to search that big cupboard for the
aqua vitae.

“Nothing just now, thank you.”

He studied my face, looking as if he was trying to decide whether to say something a
bout my appearance. I scrubbed self-consciously at my cheeks, realizing they must be filthy with tabloid ink. “We’ve been working so hard lately,” I said. “I, uh, fell asleep on the job.”

His brows lifted. “You’re an employee here?”

“No, I’m…a friend of Max’s.”

“One whom he trusts enough to leave in charge here, I see.” His tone was courteous, but I sensed disapproval.

“Yes.”

“May I ask where Max is?”

“Police station.” I was still groggy. Otherwise I might not have answered so directly.

“Has there been a mishap?”

“You might say that.”

“The shop’s been burgled?”

“No…I…It’s complicated.”

“I see.” After an awkward moment, he asked, “Is Max’s assistant here? I think perhaps I should speak with him.”

“That was him just now,” I grumbled. “Leaving. Without warning, apology or explanation.”

“
That
was Hieronymus?”

“You know Hieronymus?” I asked in surprise.

“Well, we’ve never met…” His gaze roamed over the books stacked all over the table, then moved to the display board, which was covered in my multicolored notes. After a moment, he said faintly, with a frown, “There’ve been four mystical disappearances here?”

I gasped and rose to my feet. “Who are you?”

“As I said, Lysan—”

“Where did you come from?” I demanded, backing away in dawning fear. Could
he
be our nemesis?

“Altoona,” he said. “Young woman, there’s no reason to—”

“Altoona?” The word sounded exotic and otherworldly. “Is that in another dimension?”

He blinked. “Er, no, it’s in Pennsylvania.”

“What? Oh!” I stopped backing away. “Oh. That Altoona.” My family had once stopped there for lunch on a road trip to the East Coast, during my childhood. “You…Are you causing these disappearances?”

“So there
are
disappearances occurring?” Then realizing what I’d just asked, he added, “No, of course I’m not causing anything! And who, may I ask, are you?”

“I’ll ask the questions, Singh,” I said, imitating Lopez’s cop tone. “What’s your business here?”

“Now see here, young woman—”

“Sit down,”
I barked as he started to rise.

Startled, he sat.

“You’re no friend of Max’s,” I said, attempting to bluff the truth out of him.

“I never claimed to be,” he said tersely.

“Well?” I prodded in a menacing tone.

“I’m…a colleague of his.”

I gasped. “You’re with the Collegium!”

“He
told
you about the Collegium?” Singh sounded scandalized. His gaze flashed to the
display board and he added, his tone growing genuinely appalled, “He’s
told
you about these disappearances!”

“So that’s how you know Hieronymus’s name,” I said. “You knew he’d been assigned to Max as an assistant.”

“As the most longstanding representative of the Magnum Collegium in the eastern half of the United States at this time,” Singh said, “I, in fact, authorized the assignment.”

I returned to my chair and sank into it. “Well, now we know who to blame.”

“For the disappearances?” he said in confusion.

“For burdening Max with that sulking, smirking, uncommunicative cellar-dweller who’s never around when you need him.”

“Am I to understand that you’re criticizing a junior member of the Collegium?” His tone could have frosted glass.

“I’m also criticizing you, Lysander,” I said, feeling all the crankiness of the day return in full force.

His posture became even more rigid. “I realize, from the reports of his apprenticeship, that the poor boy’s unfortunate affliction prevents him from uttering certain incantations accurately, causing some unpredictable results. But I don’t see how that is any of your affair, young woman. Moreover, I would have thought that compassion rather than contempt would be the civilized response to his predicament, even in a savage outpost like New York City.”

“‘Savage outpost’? Oh, for God’s sake!
This is the greatest—Wait, no, never mind.” I controlled myself and focused on the most relevant part of his comments. “Look, if Hieronymus’s speech impediment makes him a danger—”

“I didn’t say that. Besides there was only that one mishap.”

“Only that
one?
” I repeated.

“I think only a petty personality would count the others,” he said, eyeing me coldly.

I thought of the orange explosion in Max’s cellar the other day. “How many have there been?”

“Ah. I begin to understand,” Singh said in a snide tone. “You’re hoping to replace Hieronymus. You have ambitions to follow in Max’s footsteps.”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I’m hoping to go back onstage as Virtue and move the show to Broadway.”

“What?”

“I’m involved with these people because of the disappearances,” I said, “and my objection to Hieronymus is that he’s
rude,
and also the worst team player I’ve ever met.”

“Fighting Evil is not a team sport, young woman!”

“My name is Esther!”

“And it’s not entirely surprising that Hieronymus’s manners might be a bit strained, considering that Max is evidently giving mundanes free access to his work, his lab and the secrets of the Collegium! This is
most
irregular!”

“Yeah, I guessed that,” I said. “But we’
ve got a huge problem on our hands here, and Max can’t handle it all alone! By now, half a dozen of us have been on the job for forty-eight hours—though, frankly, it feels like much,
much
longer than that—and we’re
still
a long way from solving these disappearances or finding the victims. And I don’t see that Max’s ‘assistant’ is helping him much.”

“You are no judge of his assistant’s contributions. Or of the challenges facing us in our sacred work!”

Few things spark my temper more effectively than pomposity. “Well, at least the Collegium knew what it was doing when it sent Max here, where there’s real work to be done,” I said, “and sent
you
to Altoona, where you can enjoy your sacred status in peace and quiet.”

He rose to his feet in offended fury, and I didn’t tell him to sit back down. I was half hoping he’d just storm out the door. “I’ll have you know, young woman, Altoona was a seething cauldron of riotous demonic Evil when I went there. Twenty years ago, if you wanted to frighten small children at bedtime—”

“What kind of twisted person would want to do that?”

“—or make experienced sorcerers shudder with dread, all you had to do was mention the doomed name of Altoona.”

I blinked. “You’re kidding me.”

“It was thought to be a place beyond redemption, beyond retrieval, beyond all hope!”

“Altoona?”

“You have no
idea
of the challenges I faced there. All alone, a young mage with no help, against overwhelming odds.”

“Altoona, PA?” I said.

“It was a horrific battle, and at times there seemed to be no end in sight. But with talent, grit and determination…” He took a breath and nodded. “Yes, I succeeded in the end.”

“The same Altoona where I had a grilled-cheese sandwich at some diner when I was eight?
That
Altoona?”

“And so Altoona is the peaceful hamlet we know today. But make no mistake, young woman.” He raised a warning finger. “Evil still lurks at the edges of Altoona, searching for a weakness, awaiting its opportunity to regain a foothold there and once again grow in strength to dominate the entire town!”

“You’re
sure
we’re talking about the same Altoona?”

“Positive. So I know whereof I speak when I say that Max should perform his duties here without involving or endangering mundanes. Ours is a solitary vocation of individuals specifically gifted and equipped to deal with the perils we face.” He sat back down, apparently past his pique now.

“Not to minimize your achievements, Lysander,” I said slowly, “but Altoona is not exactly the Big Apple, after all.”

“Oh?” Lysander gave me a worldly wise smirk and gestured to the display board covered in my notes about the four mystical disappearances. “And when was the last time you heard of anything like
this
happening in Altoona?”

“Y
ou were questioned by the
police?
” was the first thing Lysander said when Max and Barclay entered the bookshop.

“Lysander?” Max made a vague gesture. “What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to Manhattan?”

“You were questioned by the
police?
” Lysander repeated.

“Since he’s here,” I said to Max, “I’ve explained our problem to him.” I had just finished summarizing everything, including most of today’s events, when Max and Barclay arrived.

“The
police
are involved in this matter?” Lysander said.

“Oh, are you a colleague of Dr. Zadok’s?” Barclay extended his hand. “How do you do?”

Lysander ignored him. “These events
are being reported in the
press?
” He waved our smudged copy of
The Exposé
at Max. “And
online?
”

“As you can see,” I said to Max, “he’s rather alarmed.”

“Max!” Lysander cried. “I demand an explanation. How do the press and the police know of these affairs?”

“Skip that part,” I advised Max. “I’ve already explained everything to him. This is just a touch of hysterics.”

“Are things very bad in Altoona these days?” Max asked, studying Lysander with some concern.

“A murky quagmire of festering Evil,” I said.

“Altoona?” Barclay said.

“A shocking place,” Max told him.

“Altoona, PA?” Barclay said. “
That
Altoona?”

“Yes!” Lysander exclaimed. “That Altoona! But things are fine there.”

“And we’re all relieved to hear that,” I said.

“We brought food.” Barclay set a big paper bag on the table, then took another one from Max. While unpacking both bags, he said, “We’re starved after that interrogation! We figured you’d be hungry, too, Esther. And when we talked to Dixie, Duke and Satsy, they said you were all smeared with tabloid ink and probably wouldn’t want to eat out when you woke up. I hope Thai is okay?”

Opening a container of food that smelled delicious, I said sincerely, “I think I love you both.”
I set out the paper plates and plastic utensils Barclay handed to me. “There’s enough for four, Lysander, so you must join us.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t eat a thing,” he said stiffly. “Max, I demand you explain what’s going on here!”

“I’m setting a place for you, Lysander,” I said. “Perhaps food will improve your mood. Here, start with a dumpling.”

“I refuse to—Humph!
Urgh!
” His comments were interrupted by my forking a fried dumpling into his mouth.

Seeing Lysander trying not to choke on his dumpling, Max said, “I’ll get some water.”

He came back a few minutes later bearing a tray with four glasses and a pitcher of water, by which time I had introduced Barclay and Lysander.

While Max poured a glass of water and handed it to Lysander, I said, “So what happened with Lopez?”

“Ah! Yes.” Max sat down and began selecting cartons of food and filling his plate. “I must say, Esther, interrogation by the authorities isn’t nearly so unnerving in a society where one knows they are prohibited by both law and custom from using implements of torture.”

“I can see how that would be so, Max.” I scooped some chicken in red curry sauce onto my plate. “But I was still worried.”

“Yes, well, one is sadly aware, of course, that the police do not
always
stay within the letter or the spirit of the law when interrogating suspects.”

“Especially in this city,” Lysander said disdainfully.

“Which is why I was glad,” Max continued, “that we were protected by the appropriate incantations.”

Lysander frowned. “What incantation is appropriate for police interrogation?”

Max replied, “It was Barclay, not I, who uttered the spell.”

We looked at Barclay, who said, “I invoked the names of my family, my lawyers and my cousin the Congressman. Repeatedly.”

“Ah. So Lopez was forced to tread lightly?” I guessed.

“Yes,” Max said.

“Not really,” Barclay said.

“I find the detective an admirable young man,” Max said to me. “A bit impatient, perhaps, as so many young people are, but devoted to his duty and sincere in his convictions.”

“He scares me,” Barclay said.

“I’m sure he intended to.” I asked Max the question that worried me most. “So does Lopez know now who vandalized the crystal cage?”

“No, of course not,” Max said, surprised. “We had agreed it was necessary to lie about that, so I did. You and I never returned to the theater and have no idea what happened.”

“Well done, Max!” I ignored Lysander, who was muttering and shaking his head. “Did Lopez believe you?”

“I’m not sure,” Max admitted. “He adopted a manner of belligerent skepticism at the start of the interview, and he was slow to shed it.”

“He shed it?” I asked, both surprised and suspicious. “When? What were you talking about?”

“About the disappearances, of course. And the theories we have so far explored and eliminated in our investigation of them.”

I considered this. “You told him the truth?”

“Yes. Mind you, I avoided discussion of Sexy Samson and Dolly the Dancing Cowgirl, since he did not ask me about their disappearances.”

“He didn’t ask me about them either,” said Barclay. “We just went over—and over and
over
and over—what happened when Clarisse disappeared. And how I met you, and then Dr. Zadok.”

Max said, “In fact, I believe the police are still unaware of Samson’s and Dolly’s disappearances.” When I glanced at the display board, where their names were clearly written, Max added, “Yes, Detective Lopez is a very observant young man. I, too, believe he saw their names written here—”

“And heard Delilah mention them,” I said.

“But I think it possible he doesn’t believe they’re people.”

“He thinks they’re pets?” With names like theirs, I supposed it was possible.

“Perhaps. Or figments of our imagination,” said Max.

“Ah.” Yes, it was even more possible that he thought we were crazy.

“But only for the time being. He strikes me as an individual who does not long overlook details once he’s interested in something. However, it’s clear he does not believe that my interpretation of the situation is a reliable one.”

“You told him your interpretation?” And Lopez hadn’t made Max undergo psychiatric evaluation?

Max nodded. “As you and I had already discussed, I felt it imprudent to lie about anything besides the actual crime we were obliged to commit. So I was frank in my responses to all other questions posed to me.”

“How did Lopez react?”

“Initially, he had many, many, many questions.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.

Barclay added, “It was the same with me, too.”

“Then…” Max paused and frowned at his noodles.

“Then?” I prodded.

“Poor fellow. The headache which had been troubling him for much of the interview became so pronounced that he asked me to leave.”

“I see.”

“He looked rather ill by then.”

“Hmm.” I knew exactly how Lopez must have felt.

“I offered to attempt treatment, but he became emphatic in his insistence that I absent myself.”

“Uh-huh.”

Barclay said, “And he was already done with me by then. So we were
finally
able to leave.”

“After such lengthy and intense questioning, even without torture, I felt in need of a rejuvenating beverage,” Max said.

“So we stopped for a couple of smoothies,” Barclay said. “And phoned Dixie.”

“Well.” I thought it over. Lopez might not be eliminated as a problem, but it sounded as if he was temporarily neutralized. “You two did an excellent job. Good work.” I dug into my dinner while Max and Barclay beamed at me.

“An excellent job?” Lysander repeated with appalled incredulity. “Are you mad, young woman?”

Barclay murmured helpfully, “Her name is Esther.”

Lysander ignored him. “The mundane police are investigating a mystical matter and have interrogated a representative of the Collegium!”

“Without implements of torture,” I pointed out.

“A representative who has
lied
to them about the
crime
he committed—”

“Surely you don’t think he should have confessed?” I said.

“—and who shared esoteric knowledge with the interrogating officer! And also with, I gather,” he added, with a dark look at Max, “a throng of mundanes whom he has invited to help him with his sacred duty!”

“Try the asparagus dish,” Barclay said. “It’s great!”

“And the press is reporting on this matter!” Lysander added. “Max, this situation is a disaster! A travesty! A catastrophe!”

“The chicken’s really good, too,” I said.

“Oh, I haven’t tried the chicken yet,” said Max, reaching for it.

“Max,” Lysander said insistently, “what are you planning to do to rectify this mess?”

“Hmm…” Max frowned, thinking about it.

I said, “Well,
I,
for one, plan to…plan…Oh, no!” I slapped my forehead—again.

“What’s wrong?” Barclay asked.

“My plan,” I said in disgust. “I can’t believe I fell asleep today! Look at the time now. It’s much too late to go see Magnus about the crystal cage. Damn!”

“Magnus?” Barclay repeated. “Do you mean Magic Magnus, that huge weird guy with the gold tooth?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask him not to turn the repaired cage over to Matilda until I’m ready…” I looked at Barclay. “You…you know Magnus?”

“Yeah. I got my vanishing box from him.” Barclay reached for more noodles.

My heart started thudding. “You did?”

“Uh-huh. That’s who’s repairing your cage? Figures.”

I put down my fork. “Why does it figure?”

“More noodles, Esther?” he asked.

“No. Why does it figure, Barclay?”

“Hmm? Oh! Just that he does so much business. Seems like everyone…” He paused, seeing how intensely I was looking at him. His eyes widened as he realized why. “Oh my
God.
” He nodded slowly, suddenly recognizing the importance of what he was saying. “Seems like everyone you meet in magic deals with the guy.”

“Oh my God!” I echoed. Barclay and I rose to our feet at the same time. “That’s it! That’s the link! The common factor!”

“Magic Magnus?” Max said, rising, too.

I went to the display board, picked up a marker, and wrote under Golly’s and Clarisse’s names:
Access to prop—MAGIC MAGNUS.

“We need to get hold of Duke and Delilah!” Barclay said. “We’ve got to find out if they were dealing with Magnus, too!”

“Yes, we do!” I agreed. “And Lysander, I withdraw my comments about Hieronymus, with apologies.”

“You do?”

I nodded. “I should have taken him more seriously. He said today that the perpetrator was a mundane with access to the prop boxes. He said that’s who we should be looking for.” I forgot my apology as I added, “Damn him, anyhow! Where is he? Never around when you need him!”

“Zounds!” Max cried.

I glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at the display board anymore. He was staggering toward the fron
t of the shop, his arms outstretched, as if trying to touch something I couldn’t see.

“Zounds?” Barclay repeated.

Lysander rose from his chair, looking around the room in sudden alarm. “What
is
that?”

“What is
what?
” Barclay asked.

“Max?” I said.

“Shh!” Max responded.

“Great Scott!” Lysander started to breathe hard. “Is that…is
that
…It’s happening, isn’t it?”

Barclay and I exchanged glances. My dinner started churning in my stomach.

After a moment, Max turned around to face us. Looking like he felt sick, he wiped his brow. Lysander, gasping for air, sank clumsily into his chair.

“Esther?” Barclay whispered.

“No.” I shook my head and whispered back, “No, I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Me, neither.”

Lysander said, “Max?”

Max drew in a long breath, then nodded. “Yes. It’s just happened again.” He met my eyes. “Somewhere in the city, another victim has disappeared.”

“I would like to go on record, officially, as saying I consider this a
terrible
idea,” Lysander muttered.

“Fine. You’re on the official record,” I said. “Now quit stalling, let’s get busy with breaking and entering.” I was fast becoming a hardened criminal.

After considerable debate, the four of us had decided to break into the magic shop sometime after midnight. Well, no,
three
of us had decided; the fourth, Lysander, was participating under protest. However, if we were invading the lair of a powerful and evil mage, as we suspected, it seemed best to include Lysander in our raid. In such circumstances, two sorcerers on our side were better than one.

We knew that Magnus had access to at least two of the prop boxes used in the disappearances. And, as I’d told my three companions tonight, I had twice seen mysterious people wandering around the upper floors of the magic shop. The first time, I had mistaken an elusive woman for a staff member. The second time, there were three people—one of them wrapped in a snake—and they hadn’t acted like staff. They’d acted frightened. Of me? Or of something more sinister—such as the huge weird guy with the gold tooth who charged up those stairs with a spear only moments later?

Magnus had made it clear he didn’t want me mentioning those frightened people to Lopez that day. And he’d looked as if he hoped I’d never seen them. Who were they? Victims of disappearances we didn’t know about? Victims of another scheme he was perpetrating aside from the disappearances? Minions of Evil?

Hieronymus had said we should be looking for a mundane, but Max and Lysander were bo
th positive that the disappearances were mystical. Magnus, they surmised, merely posed as a mundane, as someone who possessed well-rehearsed skills of misdirection and illusion. In reality, he was probably a true mage, like the two of them. It seemed likely now that the amazing magic trick he’d performed the day I’d met him, making a bird appear out of thin air and then turning the bird into the crystal pendant he’d given me, had been real magic, rather than stunning sleight-of-hand. It also seemed likely, Max said, that the crystal had been some sort of charm—perhaps an attempt to make me attracted to Ma
gnus, perhaps something more dangerous. Magnus had, after all, assured me I could perform the vanishing act in perfect safety. Maybe he’d given me that pendant in an attempt to make sure I did the act, never suspecting that Max would show up in time to stop me.