There was the now-familiar crackling sense of direction, faded slightly, and I opened my eyes to see Kevin looking at me calmly. "Hang on." I placed a hand to my chest, found the lumpy outline of Bobbi-Bobbi's spearhead, and closed my eyes. "Hop in, me boy, I'll give ye a lift downtown." Kevin headed for it and carefully placed the Royal into it as I came close, I identified a Zodiac boat with the characteristic safety orange color either painted over or replaced by dark plastic. At the water's edge, just off to the side from the tracks, was a black and gray shape. Kevin continued north along the trackway, heading for the water the Spuyten Duyvil Bridge was visible, swung east/west to allow water traffic through between the Hudson River and the Harlem River Ship Canal. I refused to rise to the bait and ask, so we walked a few dozen yards in silence save for the faint tapping of keys in Kevin's typewriter as it swung in his grip. "Ahhhh." Kevin, it seemed, was fond of the almost-pleased sigh as a conversational gambit. If I tried too hard, it interfered with my vision." "An' you couldn't read your card? Or the card they said was yours?" Kevin clucked his tongue thoughtfully when I'd finished. I couldn't see any reason not to, so I told him about Brian and his companion and the game of Manhattan solitaire that had been laid out before they vanished away. Been up and down the island, these past days, tryin' ta make sense of it." Kevin's accent was odd it was mostly Irish, but there were strange gutturals in it occasional odd stops. "Ye see, Michel, there's been all manner of trouble with the rivers. I thought about it for a second, then shrugged and followed. When we reached the relative open space of the tunnels, he turned uptown without hesitation. Kevin exclaimed in delight at the typewriters and, entreating me to hold his Coleman, salvaged a dusty but unrustedRoyal which he carried under one arm with a pleased expression. We walked back out to the railway tunnels. "I came looking for whatever called someone here. "I came looking-" I stopped, thought about it. Came looking for the power, didn't 'cha?" "Kevin? Who the hell are you? No, wait a minute. I looked up his arm and up at him as I reclaimed my well-compressed fingers. Despite having waded through New York sewers to reach me, they were clean. His hand engulfed mine, and mine aren't small. E2 is way ahead of the blog, having another 8 or 9 episodes, but I'll try to start closing the gap in case you don't want to look there. No Cure for Emptiness on East 14th Another 'New York Magician' story.
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