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"Omni solaris..."
"That won't work," Bill's sister interrupted.
"You need a moon spell to do a search after the
vernal equinox."
"Heavens. Why is this so tiresome?
Sophie leafed through a Martha Stewart catalog, half
tempted to buy something, half tempted to hazard a speculative
affability spell.
"And you might as well check that she isn't registered
with one of the local covens. No point in lighting all
those candles if she's in the book."
Bill sighed. "She isn't. I checked. Anyway, the
covens don't have real witches any more. You know that.
They're just amateurs with toads. I'm talking about
a witch! A witch who can fly."
It was their day off, almost their first chance to
relax in a week. They performed every evening except
Tuesday, and rehearsed during the day, and crammed in
matinees at the weekends. Sophie was pooped. She knew
she'd promised to help find Sue but she needed to relax
too. At least they were working in Manhattan and they
could enjoy their own apartment rather than some rented
condo. She looked out of their expensive window across
the park, then threw down the catalogue onto a rare
antique end table. "I'm going for a nap."
"You can't. I need you to help me."
"Later. Wake me in an hour." She kissed him
on the cheek. "Promise." She turned to leave
but then swayed badly and put her hands to her temples.
Her brother rose to steady her.
"What is it?"
She shook her head to clear it. "The strangest
thing. It was like I suddenly heard a really loud noise."
Across town James stood on Broadway looking up at a
shabby 10-storey building. The first floor was taller
than the rest and bore a large banner that read 'Broadway
Batteria'. He wondered what that meant. The office that
he had looked at was on the second floor.
It was clearly an old building but they had their own
bathroom and plenty of space for three people, and the
rent was appealingly low. Broadway wasn't the best location
but it was exceptionally convenient, and three other
people had turned up, along with James, to look. Anxious
not to miss a good opportunity James had paid the deposit
and signed on the dotted line.
He had been waiting for almost an hour, wondering why
the landlord had been willing to hand over the key without
taking up references, when Sue and Kath arrived. They
seemed to be getting along pretty well which made him
happy.
They rode the creaking elevator with its cast iron
grille up to their floor and James proudly ushered them
into their new premises.
The rooms were already furnished. Some previous occupier
had left in a hurry, abandoning four desks, an array
of old but serviceable file cabinets, window-mounted
air conditioners for each of the rooms, and a large
globe that doubled as a drinks cabinet.
"Eclectic," observed Kath, eyeing the rug
cautiously.
"Listen. For what we're paying you won't get anything
better. This is a steal," James assured her.
Sue was sitting on one of the desks. She picked up
the telephone handset and listened. "We should
get these conn?" The rest of the sentence was drowned
out. Deafening drums peeled out in a rich syncopated
rhythm. It sounded like there were three hundred of
them, directly below the office, but in reality there
were probably no more than seventy five. Big drums,
small drums, high and low drums, cymbals, wood blocks,
bodhrans and bongos, they all joined together in some
south American style to which James could not put a
name, though he was beginning to think of one or two.
When finally it stopped the three of them looked dumbly
at each other, too stunned to speak. Faintly through
the floor they could hear a voice, amplified through
a megaphone.
"OK, that was good but watch out for the changes
in the middle section. Let's try it again."
"I think I figured out what 'batteria' means,"
James offered.
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