up at the stars. “Something to maybe soften the pain of life’s punches, or maybe just something to make the world a little bit better.”
I watched out of the corner of my eye as her mouth opened and then closed as if she wanted to tell me something but wasn’t sure she could trust me. She just looked at me for another moment, then stood up.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Harker, but time really has flown. My friends will be waiting for me. It was very nice meeting you.” She held out a hand.
I stood and took it. “It was very nice meeting you as well, Miss Reismann. I hope you and your friends have a good time with whatever it is you’re doing out in the park in the middle of the night. And maybe if I’m lucky you’ll spy me on a park bench and decide to chat with me again some evening. I live just up York Street, so I’m here most nights.”
“Maybe I will, Mr. Harker. Have a good night.” She gave me a little wave, then turned and hurried off down the trail into the park. I sat there for a moment thinking over what she’d said, trying to make the connection between this nice young girl and a dark magic ritual. Something didn’t make sense, but I knew exactly where to go to get my answers.
* * *
—
I cast the same light-bending spell around myself that I’d used the night before, then followed Rosalyn down the path into the middle of the park. Just like before, she stopped by a tree and pulled her robe out of her bag, slipped it on, hid her face with the long fabric, and tucked the bag under a nearby bush. Then she stood and walked toward the bandstand. The major difference tonight was the glint of steel I saw at her waist. This time she carried what looked like a ceremonial knife at her side.
“Well, crap,” I muttered under my breath as I slid between the shadows. My spell mostly masked me from sight, but it was always best to give the magic as much help as I could. A few more minutes and I was within sight of the bandstand. This time I wanted to get a better vantage point, so I leapt into a spreading oak tree and pulled myself up onto a wide branch. I walked out as far as I safely could, using other limbs to aid my balance, and took up a position about ten feet off the ground and twenty feet from the bandstand. My line of sight was just right to see under the roof so I could tell what kind of circle they were drawing, and when I saw the symbols on the floor, my worst fears were confirmed.
The circle they’d drawn on the wooden floor of the bandstand was not just a summoning circle, it was doubly warded and ringed with serious glyphs of protection. Whoever or whatever they were trying to call, at least they understood that it was heavy-duty.
The cabal was arranged just like the night before, in concentric rings of four hitting the eight major compass points. The only change this time was that tonight, the robed figure I recognized as Rosalyn was standing at the northeastern point, and the first at the north point had its arm in a sling, giving his identity away as clear as a signal beacon.
“Lord Raguel, Angel of Justice, hear our plea and come to us!” The Bronx accent of the demon-touched leader with the bad wing rang out through the night. I looked around to see if there was anyone else in the park to hear the ritual, but it seemed we were alone. At least for the moment.
“Lord Raguel, we beseech thee to come unto us,” the other seven members of the creepy chorus intoned in unison.
“Raguel, Angel of Justice, come to us this night to set history aright!” the leader cried.
“Lord Raguel, come unto us and fix what is broken,” the chorus called.
A slow chant of “Raguel, Raguel, Raguel” came from all the participants but two: the leader and Rosalyn, who drew the knife from her belt and stretched her arm out over the circle. The