The hotel wasn’t lavish, but it was comfortable. After washing all the cotton dust off of them they were feeling the official first real night of summer vacation.
“So, Tex, man, what kind of stuff have you been learning with Mrs. Muriel? Is it real magic?” asked Buddha.
“But seriously, can you be a sorcerer and a scientist?” Spider asked while toweling himself off from his shower.
“Actually, ritual magic is inseparable from the Scientific Method. For example, science observes phenomena in the world, then moves to theoretical generalizations followed by experiments to predict the behavior if the observation is treated in a certain way. What makes those experiments valid is their ability to be duplicated by other scientists. Magic works the same way. Some forward-thinking sorcerer-scientist like Elphias Levi or Charles Gardner observed that certain rituals or words of power altered the material world when performed a certain way. The magic or experiment is given validity when independent practitioners are able to duplicate the same experiments or rituals. So, in a way, all sorcerers are scientists.”
“Wow, sometimes I forget how smart you are,” George said in awe.
“But we don’t forget how ugly you are!” Spider shot back. Tex and Spider exchanged mock karate moves, then all the boys cracked up.
“Real talk, could you show us some magic?” Buddha pressed.
Tex looked around like he was contemplating the question and sighed, “Yeah, I’ll try. Can you go see if they have salt at the front desk?”
Buddha scurried happily from the room and was back in a jiff with the salt, muttering under his breath.
“What’s wrong, Buddha?” George inquired.
“Just that old redneck cop cruising around the parking lot mean-mugging me.”
“Don’t worry about him. Lemme see the salt.” Tex held out a hand for the container. He had put a side table between the beds and a chair on each side so all the boys could be seated around it. Then the wizard-apprentice poured the salt on the table and used a hotel key card to make the salt into an intricate design. “Hand me your camera, Buddha.”
Buddha passed him the camera that had once been Jesi’s. He hoped no harm would come to it.
“Now, the Law of Contagion says that things once in contact continue to interact after separation. The object is used as a witness, linking the string to the previous bearer. Hopefully we can use that string to link us to the person.”
“What will we see, the present?” Buddha hoped. He wanted Miss Jesi to be safe in her afterlife. He feared he’d only see the past.
“Mrs. Muriel says the present, the future, and the past are all inseparable, so who knows?”
Buddha swallowed. Those were not reassuring words.
“Look, the key to being able to receive is being empty. You have to completely empty your mind. By that I mean no words. It’s gonna take you a bit, but when you think you’ve got it, put a hand on the table. I’m gonna be in a state of self-hypnosis because I’m not as good as Mrs. Muriel or definitely not the Prince.”
The boys sat in silence for close to twenty minutes until each of them had put a hand on the table. Then Tex took three coins and held them in one hand and rhythmically pulled out the center coin and spun it back the way you might see high stakes gamblers do. This was the way Mrs. Muriel had taught him to key himself into the trance. As Tex began to talk, the boys’ closed eyes were flooded with the images he was describing. He explained how Mrs. Jesi had purchased the camera online. They saw the post man bringing the box that contained it, then they saw the shooting on St. Anthony’s day through the eyes of Chaz Bernos. Buddha muttered wordlessly that Chaz had owned the camera. Then there was a swirl of colors and the boys saw an image of a man on the floor of a kitchen clutching a knife hilt embedded in his neck.
“That’s crazy.” Tex stopped.
“What the Hell was that?” Spider asked, wide-eyed.
“He used to be a homicide detective. That was probably just an old case,” George surmised.
“That was freaking awesome!” Buddha exclaimed. “Can the person who the string is attached to tell we’re stealing his memories?”
“It depends who it is. Probably not Max’s Dad.”
“Dude, that’s amazing!”
All the color drained from Spider’s face as he reached into his pocket and held out his hand to Tex. “Can you use this?”
The boy held an antique razor with an ivory handle that had Curtis Shaw engraved on it.