Free Dark Arts by Randolph Lalonde

people who knew of the Circle, all people
that Bernie had heard of through the letters to his father
preceding their coming. This was the festival that celebrated the
deepest kind of connection to nature and the spirit world. An
earlier Gathering brought Maxwell and his father to their shores.
Practitioners everywhere agreed that the world needed more healing,
and the few festivals that celebrated nature were becoming larger
and larger.
    “I think he wants the same thing, Miranda,”
Bernie said.
    “Good,” she replied. She stepped in front of
him then, barely giving him enough time to stop, and looked at him,
deadly serious. “I’ve been having visions too, just a couple.”
    “About you and Max?”
    “No, I can’t see Max, I can’t see myself,”
she replied. “About you. I want you to promise me something.”
    “Sure, what?”
    “Seriously,” she said. “You promise me that
you be careful if you see something that’s too good to be true.
Remember the rule: if it seems too good, it’s rarely true.”
    “You’re unforgettable, babe,” Bernie said
with a wink.
    “Seriously!” She pounded his chest.
    “Fine, I’ll be careful.”
    “Okay.” She hugged him and kissed him on the
cheek. “So, what is Max like now? What’s the one thing I have to
know?”
    “Well,” Bernie said as they started walking
again. The school bus was just in sight, painted black, parked on
the lawn just inside the farm fencing. “He has no idea, but
sensitive people can feel him coming. It’s like there’s a low
rumble only a few people can hear. He’s really all heart underneath
all that leather and British, more of a gentleman than he wants
anyone to know. Doesn’t like swimming much, sorry,” Bernie said,
glancing at her swimsuit.
    “Okay,” Miranda said. “I’m sure I can lure
him into the water if I want to.”
    “Maybe, but the cardinal sin with Max is
trying to talk about his father. He’ll talk about him on his own
when he wants to, but he saw all those lessons in mysticism and
history and the occult as a kind of torture. Maybe that’ll change,
but he’s still going to resent his dad for it for a long time. I
was there, I was interested most of the time, and the way his
father shoved it into our heads, it wasn’t good. Then he’d leave
for weeks, or months and come back with something that just didn’t
matter to Max. Even the money his dad made, a lot sometimes, didn’t
impress him. He wanted a dad, and I think that’s why he’s a brother
to me, because my father took care of most of that, even before
Charles died.”
    “Okay, groovy,” Miranda said. “I mean, I’m
curious, I’ve read everything Max’s dad published, but I won’t
bring it up.”
    “Other than that, I don’t know, just watch
him. My father told me to stay close because he knows Max is about
to hit a wall, he’s refused to believe in spiritualism all his
life, now there’s no way he’ll get around it. He’s going to need
us.” He looked at Miranda, realizing that he’d just said ‘us’
instead of ‘me.’ “You are going to help me watch him, right?”
    “You think he’d take help from someone he
barely knows? It’s been years.”
    “From you? Sure,” Bernie said. “I mean, does
it feel like you’ve been gone for years? I mean, other than a few
obvious changes-“ he was interrupted by the sight of his Scott
running out from the bus, slamming the rear door shut, then pushing
the motorcycle ramp up over it and trying to secure the hooks that
were meant to keep it there.
    “I see the agenda of our system! Corrupt!
Corruption!” they could hear someone shout from the inside.
“Idolatry! The man with the brightest eyes rules the day, and we
are dazzled!”
    “That’s Zack, he’s gone off the deep end,”
Bernie said, breaking into a run towards the bus. He was surprised
to see Miranda pass him.
    “Man, oh man,” Scott said. “I’m glad to see
you!”
    Bernie helped him finish closing the latch
to the