Stephan Andrews meets the Morgana Club
|He loved the quietness of upstate on weekends. It gave him peace, away from the hustle of the City. Stephan Andrews was born in New York City, into a family whose roots could be traced back to when the English first came, but he needed to unwind and get away from all the old money dinners and dances.
The Andrews had several holdings throughout the state, one of which was a hotel in the Catskills. Though it had suffered hard times after the 1960s, it still was a good spot during the fall – leaf peepers – and winter - skiers filled the rooms. In the spring, however, no one came, perhaps only those in town for weddings or funerals. It was then he would come up for the weekend, bring a few books and beer, and study in peace.
He arrived early one Friday in April, a case of Rheingold among his luggage. Once inside the Andrews Suite, Stephan unpacked, cracked open a bottle, and flopped into a black leather chair. He put his feet up on the table and looked out the window.
The trees were not yet fully green, buds were still prevalent. He didn’t care much for the view, but it was better than watching television. He quickly drained the bottle and was prepared to retrieve another when someone knocked on his door.
He shrugged his shoulders. He thought no one would know he was there yet and would have at least two hours of drinking before being bothered.
“Who is it?”
“We would like to speak with you,” the strong male voice answered. There was something in the tone, in the deep base, that made the collegian snap to and walk to the door. He used the peephole and saw three well dressed men, dark suits and hats in hand. He unlocked the door and welcomed them in.
“Let’s get to the point immediately,” the deep voiced man began. He placed an attaché case on the dining table and opened it. He removed a folder. He gave it to Stephan.
“You wrote this last year,” the man added. Stephan opened the file and saw the essay, “Truth and Magic: Existing Together.”
He nodded. He remembered writing the paper after a short period of intense research. It was his theory that magic exists, that it has been since the beginning of man, and that there are objects which makes magic easy for those with abilities.
“What do you want with me?”
“We represent a group of people, men and women, who are united in our beliefs and knowledge.”
“I knew it!” Andrews sat up straighter and asked, “What’s the name? Is it the Loyal Order of the Faye?”
The man shook his head. “No, it’s not. And where did you about an Order of the Faye?”
Andrews looked sideways at the man and answered, “From my father. He heard about it while in the Army. He told us about it while we were growing up.”
“Well, that’s another reason while we would like you to join our members,” the man said. “He knew about us but used the incorrect name.”
A woman stepped forward and smiled. “Mr. Andrews, we would love for you to join us, to tell us of what your father told you and your siblings.”
“I need a beer,” Andrews said. “This is too much to digest right now.”
The man grabbed a bottle and handed it to Andrews. “Take your time. We don’t need your decision today. We just wanted you to know that you’re essay was correct.
“Magic does exist.”