Prospero in Hell (18 page)

Theo growled. “It’s not the same.”

I glanced back down the road toward where I had met the shapechanger, wondering what had become of the burning anger that normally would have been consuming me about now. Why was it was not rising to protect me from despair? Theo was right, I had demanded men be killed for far less than this, though Father always talked me out of it before anything came of my intent. I had even, as I recalled earlier, returned to the island of our exile to kill Caliban myself, after Father refused to slay him, so terrible was my anger at Father’s misbegotten servant. I found no sign of him, though. Perhaps, left alone after Father and I departed, he had perished.

Only now, as I gazed into the bleak landscape where black tree trunks rose like prison bars against a sheet of unrelenting white, did I recall that I had only become angry at Caliban years later, after Ferdinand jilted me, after my stepmother treated me coldly, after I had grown stronger and more lonely. Back on the island, when he had seized me in his long hairy arms and dragged me down upon the loam, I had not felt anger. I had felt vulnerable and helpless, betrayed by one I had loved and trusted.

Arrogant mortal rakes, whose motive had been to slake their intemperate lusts, had earned my ire through the centuries, true, and I had wished to make an example of them. Osae’s intentions, however, had been far more sinister. If Theo and Mab had not arrived, I would have been unmade, my position with my Lady revoked, Her wisdom lost to me. Without my Handmaiden status, I would no longer have access to the Well at the World’s End. We would have had only as much immortal life left as Water remained in my diamond carafe and its few matching vials. By violating my virtue, Osae would have effectively slain my entire family.

Again, I trembled, and the thought that a creature as vile as Osae the Red could reduce me to this filled me with shame.

Yet, from some deeper level, like the still waters under a ruffled pond,
the thought rose that my fear was the by-product of adrenaline and surprise. My spirits would soon buoy up again, and my legendary calm return. I clung to this thought, closing my eyes and drawing my awareness away from the tremors in my legs.

“My Lady,” I prayed silently. “Comfort me.”

Immediately, a sense of warmth settled over me, dispelling the haze of gloom. My heart swelled with gratitude, as I realized anew that my beloved brother Theo was here. He had left his farm. He had come out into the world. Maybe he would live after all!

I opened my eyes to find the day bright and picturesque, like a Christmas card, with Theo gazing at me, his dear face drawn with concern. When he saw my expression, his eyes crinkled with relief.

“Back, are you?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes.” I glanced back down the road to where the demon had dared lay his hands upon a Handmaiden of the Unicorn. My hands balled into fists. “Now, I am angry!”

“Shall we hunt demon, then?” Theo gave a wolfish smile, showing his teeth. His eyes lit up with a life I had not seen in them in decades.

A spasm of coughing wracked his frame. The light died out of his eyes. He looked suddenly old.

“You will have to hunt with someone else, Sister,” he said. “I cannot aid you.”

“It can wait.” I masked my disappointment. He had looked so strong and hale, I had begun hoping he had given up on dying and had made use of the vial of Water of Life I had left at his house. Now, I saw this was not the case. No matter, I told myself, so long as he still drew breath, I could keep trying!

Aloud, I said, “First, there is this matter of Caurus and the King of Fire.”

The three of us rocketed through the corridors of Prospero’s Mansion atop the flying carpet. With Mab piloting, we traveled at speeds that made conversation impossible. I knelt in front, the breeze blowing in my face. Mab steered from the stern. Between us, Theo sat stiffly, gripping the sides of the rug with white knuckles, his rifle stretched across his lap.

Upon reaching the heavily warded doors of the Vault, we opened the numerous locks and took up the magical protections. Theo and Mab proceeded far more carefully than Caurus and I had, putting up new wards of salt and chalk before removing the protections on the great iron door itself.
Had Caurus and I done this, I suspected we would not have had to face Seir and the trouble he caused.

Eventually, the great door slowly swung open to reveal the central rotunda and the four wings. In the intervening few days, the fifth phoenix feather had rejuvenated and now glowed as brightly as its fellows. The feathers gave off a pleasant cinnamon scent that mingled with the less-pleasant burnt odor.

As we entered, a cheerful voice tinged with fatigue called out hopefully from the Elemental Chamber.

“Milady?” Caurus called. “Is that you? Please tell me Mab is with you! I can’t stay awake much longer. I’m so tired, I’m hearing things. I keep dreaming this infernal sword is talking to me.”

“I brought Mab,” I called back. “And you’re not dreaming. Don’t listen to anything it says.”

Theo stopped short. “Sword talking? Oh, no!” He threw up his hands as if to block an invisible attacker. “Surely you did not draw
Laevateinn!
The Wounding Wand is accursed! I’ll have nothing to do with this! I’ve worked far too hard and suffered far too long to risk becoming contaminated by the dark arts at this late stage!”

“Then, get out of the way,” Mab growled, exasperated. He pushed by Theo while pulling up his sleeves. “And leave the work to those of us who still care.”

As Mab stalked forward into the Elemental Chamber, Theo remained where he was, frowning dubiously. I hesitated beside him an instant, then followed Mab.

Now that the Elemental Chamber was lit, the vials, rings, and old brass lamps piled upon the shelf that ran about the circumference of the room were clearly visible. Otherwise, the chamber was empty, except for Caurus and the four pedestals upon which sat the jars imprisoning the kings and queen of the elements. Ahead of me, Mab paused, taking in the two, untouched, lead-sealed copper jars, and the third jar, still capped by the breastplate of gleaming Urim and held in place by the finely fashioned cart wheel. The fourth pedestal held
Laevateinn
. When Mab reached it, he drew back in alarm, glaring at the sword, its hilt cruel and curling and pale as bone. Mist trickled out from the mouth of its ill-fitting Urim sheath.

Caurus, his Urim-clad left hand still hovering nervously between the wheel and the hilt of the sword, gave Mab and me a big welcoming smile. His long narrow nose and pointed chin were smudged with soot, and his
singed straw-colored hair stuck out, much like hay. His once-long scarf now ended in a charred stub, his Icelandic sweater sported several large holes, and burn marks marred his sealskin breeches. Only the hornpipe protruding from his belt remained unscathed.

I was pleased to see the Water of Life had done its work. The terrible burn on his face was nearly healed.

“Milady!” Caurus cried gratefully. “And Mab! Bless the Stars!”

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Mab had his lead pipe in hand and was knocking it against his palm.

“Seir of the Shadows let the King of Fire out. He needs to be sealed in again,” I explained.

Mab eyed the copper pot dubiously. “What’s keeping him in there now?”

“He swore an oath.” I recalled with pleasure the cleverness with which I had tricked the King of Djinn back into his jar. “He swore on the River Styx not to try to get out for a year and a day.”

“Ah ha! . . . What was the exact wording of the oath?” asked Mab.

Caurus and I looked at each other.

“We were in the middle of a battle,” I began.

“I wasn’t even in my body,” objected Caurus.

“You don’t know the exact wording…” Mab asked in disbelief. “What do you remember? You did make him swear to go into the pot taking nothing, leaving nothing behind, and harming none, right? . . . You made him promise not to put any part of himself, even a flicker of flame, outside until after the pot was sealed, right? Please, tell me you… Dang!” Mab took off his hat and threw it against the marble floor, shaking his head with disgust. Picking up the hat again, he dusted it off and eyed the pot doubtfully.

“Not sure what to tell you, Ma’am. This might be a bigger case than I can handle. Might need to call in some professionals.”

“Professionals?” I blinked, bemused by the idea that anyone could be more professional about such matters than Mab.

“You know, like those Orbie guys.”

“You mean the
Orbis Suleimani?
”

“
Ja,
no! Surely there’s a better way, Milady,” Caurus cautioned. “The Circle of Solomon has no love for our kind! They’re as likely to harm us as help us!”

“They won’t hurt her.” Mab stuck a finger at me. “Their leader is one of her brothers.”

All this was too much for Theo, who came stomping into the room, still holding his Winchester.

“I am a professional,” he growled, “and a member of the
Orbis Suleimani.
”

“Milord Prospero!” Caurus cried, delighted. “Are you a sight to cheer a weary spirit! How wonderful to see that the rumors of your death were false!” Then, suddenly, he drew back. “Wait! Alarm! This man bears not our Master’s arcane aura! He is an imposter! Milady, run!” He lunged forward, his Urim-gauntleted hand reaching for the cruel pallid hilt of the Wounding Wand.

“Caurus, no! Stop!” I cried, but Mab was even quicker than I. He leapt forward and threw himself between Caurus and Theo, his arms outstretched.

Caurus froze. His gauntleted hand hovered just above the terrible sword, reluctant to touch it.

“This seeming, Milady! He is not your noble father!”

“He’s not trying to look like Father, Caurus… that’s my brother Theo.”

Caurus tilted his head, amazed. “Lord Theophrastus?”

“The same,” Theo replied gruffly. He was frowning at Mab’s back, his brows arched in surprise. Mab lowered his arms and stepped away, clearing his throat.

Caurus peered at my brother. “You have changed, Milord. I had believed your family immune to the ravages of time.”

“Only if we so choose,” replied Theo. “You’ve changed as well. Last time we met, you were a disembodied voice in the air.”

“Oh,
ja!
” Caurus waved his Urim gauntlet dismissively. “That was a while back. I’ve been in this body for some time now. Well, except for the day before yesterday.” He looked at me blearily. “Or however long it’s been. There’s no clock in here.”

Theo came farther into the chamber and squinted at the copper jars on their pedestals. “Where’s the fourth one? The…”—he paused to examine the arcane symbols engraved into the side of each pot—“the King of Air? What was his name?”

“You mean our king?” Mab drawled. “The consort of Eurynome? He is known by the august and holy title: Ophion.”

Theo frowned. “Miranda’s Lady consort is called ‘Snake’?”

“With whose help She created the stars!” bristled Mab.

Caurus leaned toward Mab, whispering loudly, “Tread carefully, Brother, the mortals heed a different account of Creation.”

“I do not know where the fourth jar is,” I jumped in. “In fact, I have never even seen a fourth jar. Maybe Father never had one. Did he ever mention it to you?”

Theo’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen it myself, but Father mentioned more than once that, as Solomon’s heirs, the
Orbis Suleimani
were the guardians of the four kings of the elements, whom Solomon bound into the service of mankind. Maybe the
Orbis Suleimani
still guards the fourth. I’ll ask Cornelius.”

I frowned, wondering if this was a good time to bring up Logistilla’s suspicions about Cornelius and his staff, but my brother had turned away and was scowling at
Laevateinn.

“Can’t we get that thing out of here?”

“Nah. If I move it away, fire comes out of the pot.”

“Great.” Theo walked three times around the unsealed copper jar, examining it thoughtfully. He asked Mab for his notebook, wrote something down, and then handed the paper to Mab. “This is what I need,” he announced curtly.

Mab peered at the paper and then back at my brother suspiciously. “I thought you said you weren’t a magician?”

Theo scowled. “If you don’t want my help, I’ll go back upstairs where my immortal soul is not imperiled.”

“Er, right… okay. Wait here. I’ll find the stuff. Most of it should be down here. Mr. Prospero kept the place stocked for just this kind of emergency.” Mab hunched his shoulders and stalked off toward the Treasure Chamber, muttering, “That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about Mr. Prospero. He’s always prepared.”

Turning away, I smiled indulgently. Theo’s pretense of not being a magician always amused me. For a fleeting instant, I regretted that Mephisto was not here to share the moment. Maybe Mephisto was not such a bad brother after all.

“Hold on. What’s that?” Theo stepped over to the shelf along the wall and, shifting his gun to his left hand, reached out and picked up a gold ring bearing the Star of David that lay on a red velvet pillow. He laughed aloud. “Never mind, Mab! This is going to be a cinch! We’ve got Solomon’s Seal! The ring he used to bind up the elemental kings the first time!”

“Er, Mr. Theo,” Mab called from the next wing, his voice echoing through the Vault, “that’s a fake.”