Prospero in Hell (32 page)

At Erasmus’s orders, several of his men ran forward and dragged Baelor’s body out through the window Osae had broken. Theo followed, striding grimly behind him, his staff humming upon his shoulder. He put on his enchanted goggles, which looked like something out of a 1940s comic book, and tapped the right corner, adjusting them. Each time he touched the control, the lenses changed color. I recognized some of the settings: gold for spirit sight; blue for eagle vision; silver for night vision. Others, I did not know.

Erasmus’s men put the body down in the snow, some fifty feet from the house, and scattered like antelopes before a lion. Stepping out through the pieces of broken window, Theo set his feet, took aim, and fired.

The resulting explosion lit the night with the brilliance of a small sun. For a time, it was too bright to even glance that way. Its light illuminated the fields to the river. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of the steeples of Boston. Then, the explosion died away, leaving a crater of burnt earth and fused glass, bare of grass or snow.

“There,” Theo said with grim satisfaction. His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy, but at least it was his own again. He twisted the top ring, and his staff fell quiet. “He won’t be bothering us again any time soon.”

“Wow!” whispered Mab, blinking his eyes from the brightness. “That was… wow!”

Mab and I came down the stairs and joined Erasmus, Cornelius, Logistilla, Mephisto, and Mephisto’s Bully Boy, where they gathered by the broken window. We stood silently, surrounded by
Orbis Suleimani
agents, staring at the smooth crater where the demon had just been. A few of the agents began cautiously moving forward, guns drawn, to examine the crater and to confirm that no sign of the demon remained. Meanwhile, Logistilla began to fuss over
Theo, who pushed her away, declaring in a hoarse croak that he was fine and did not need coddling.

Watching them, I recalled a youthful Theo exhibiting the same bothered expression as a younger Logistilla fussed over his war wounds after each campaign. I smiled, relieved that serving as the demon’s voice piece seemed to have done my brother no lasting harm.

Heavy footsteps drew my attention, and I saw, to my great delight, Logistilla’s brave bear. The great beast came lumbering up behind us, limping and wet.

“Ah, Titus!” murmured Cornelius, as the pondering footsteps came to a rest beside him. “You’ve come to join us at last! I had been worried about you, old friend.”

Erasmus and I both laughed at his expense, our one moment of camaraderie in this tense, hectic day.

“Your legendary hearing has betrayed you, Brother,” Erasmus stated good-naturedly. “You have mistaken a beast for a brother.”

Cornelius reached out a hand and felt the blood-matted fur of the bear. He frowned. His soft voice gained a dangerous edge.

“Logistilla?” he asked. “What have you done?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Logistilla asked with a shrill little laugh.

“Turn him back,” said Cornelius.

“Cornelius,” I began, “that isn’t Titus. That is Logistilla’s bear… one of her clients.”

“Turn him back,” ordered Cornelius again, ignoring me.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Logistilla insisted.

Cornelius raised his staff. The amber stone gleamed. His voice grew sterner. “Turn him back!” he commanded.

Logistilla’s eyes became unfocused, and she obediently tapped her staff upon the floor.

Pearly green light bathed the bear. It began to change, fur shrinking away, flesh growing pink. Moments later, my enormous brother Titus stood among us. His brown hair was sweat-soaked and lank. His naked flesh was blood-splattered and rent by ugly claw marks. A bullet wound gaped in his left thigh.

“Titus,” I whispered, grief-stricken, recalling how the bear had tried to reach me on Logistilla’s beach. “I’m so sorry… I d-didn’t know.”

Despite his injuries, Titus stood tall and smiling. His gaze met mine; his deep brown eyes held no condemnation. I reached into the pocket of my
coat for the tiny crystal vial containing the Water of Life and stepped toward him.

A brilliant flash of pure white light illuminated the center of the ballroom. The light curled about itself, forming bones, organs, skin, and garments, in that order. Then, the light was gone, and in the center of the floor stood an impeccably dressed young man in an exquisite dove-gray tuxedo, complete with spats. A matching dove-gray domino mask covered the upper portion of his face revealing only a pencil mustache and a narrow chin. In one hand, he held a richly carved mahogany staff topped with a gleaming star sapphire. Seeing the empty ballroom, the young man pulled a handsome silver pocket watch from his vest and examined the time.

“Where is everyone?” asked my brother Ulysses. “Have I missed the party?”

“On the contrary, the party is just beginning.” Erasmus smiled through his raven-dark hair as he grabbed Ulysses’s arm. “Unfortunately, it is beginning someplace else, and you have just been elected Chief of Travel Arrangements. Come, Brothers and Sisters. Everyone grab on!”

Erasmus gave a few last-minute instructions to his men, while the rest of us crowded together, holding hands. Mab and Mephisto’s Bully Boy crowded in with us. The Bully Boy, whom Mephisto called Calvin, demonstrated he was made of something other than just brawn when he had the perspicacity to put down Theo’s trunk long enough to take the great coat from Mephisto’s shoulders and drape it over the shivering, bloodied, and naked Titus. Meanwhile, Mephisto retrieved his hat.

“Where do you want to go?” asked Ulysses, clearly puzzled by the absence of partygoers and the bizarre behavior of his siblings. He glanced around, his gaze falling on Titus. “Titus, old chap, that’s a new look for black tie.”

“Quite true,” Titus replied wryly in his Scottish burr. His voice was gruff from disuse, and his speech sounded more like a bear’s growl than his normal baritone.

“Uh… I hate to interrupt this touching reunion,” grunted Mab, “but, in case the rest of you did not notice, we’ve just been attacked by
denizens of Hell
. Maybe we should take this opportunity to leave the premises… just in case they happen to come back with reinforcements.”

“Do you mean demons?” Ulysses glanced nervously about. “Which demons?”

“They’ve left for the moment.” Theo’s voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. “As it will probably take them time to organize without Baelor, who is back in Hell, I reckon we have at least, oh, ten minutes before
they return.” From his tone, I thought he might be exaggerating but it was best to err on the side of safety.

“You’ve been attacked by demons?” Ulysses asked, glancing about furtively. “Uh—look, I really don’t care to tangle with demons. Gives me the willies, if you must know the truth. Can’t you lot get a ride from someone else?”

“Certainly not.” Erasmus tightened his grip on Ulysses’s arm. “Now, where should we go? Preferably to some place that Miranda has not yet compromised.”

“Father’s mansion in Oregon?” suggested Theo.

“Too dangerous,” said Mab. “The demons have been there three times.”

“Oh, good going, Miranda!” Erasmus quipped, continuing before I could defend myself. “How about Logistilla’s place in the Okeefenokee?”

“Absolutely not!” replied Logistilla. “The children are there.”

An argument started as Erasmus, Cornelius, and Logistilla hotly argued about where to go, while Mab and Theo contributed dire warnings about the dangers of not leaving immediately. Mephisto joined in by shouting out places he would like to visit, such as the Eiffel Tower and the South Pole. Meanwhile, Ulysses was growing more and more apprehensive, and Titus was beginning to sway on his feet.

Disgusted, I reached through the crowd, touched the cool wood of Ulysses’s staff, and commanded, “Home.”

Ulysses’s face went chalk white. He tried to voice an objection, but the
Staff of Transportation,
which had been Father’s for so long, knew my voice and touch. The ballroom dissolved into light and silence.

Moments later, color and noise rushed back into our environment. We stood on a slate veranda breathing warm and salty air, perfumed with the scent of exotic flowers. Above, a seabird was silhouetted against the faint glow of the predawn sky, its cry piercing the night. Closer at hand, lush tropical foliage completely surrounded the veranda. Orchids flowered everywhere: red sophronitieses, yellow dendrobiums, orange featherlike cattleyeas, purple and white phalaenopses grew among the rocks or hung from the tree trunks, so that we seemed to be entirely surrounded by brilliant blooms. In among them flickered tiny lights, dancing and darting like a thousand fireflies. They were not fireflies, but tiny feylings, distant cousins of my Aerie Ones.

“Happy New Year, everyone,” I smiled as I glanced toward where the pre-morning glow had dyed the eastern sky a peachy gold.

“No! Don’t go ther… huh?” sputtered Ulysses, his alarm fading as he beheld our lush twinkling surroundings. “W-where are we?”

My other siblings were equally puzzled, except for Mephisto who was tying his shoe. The voice that answered, though congenial, was not one I recognized.

“Of course! We’re on Prospero’s Island!”

I swung about to find Mephisto’s Bully Boy gazing with pleasant familiarity at the cypress trees and white star-shaped Aerancoids. He noticed my glance and nodded, his smile both pleased and abashed.

“Hello, Miss Miranda. It’s nice to see you again.” He thrust out his great hand toward me. I shook it, puzzled, trying to place where I might have met him before.

“Who on Earth is this big hulk of a fellow?” Logistilla exclaimed with interest, pushing forward so as to examine him better.

Illuminated by the faint early morning light and the green glow from the globe on the top of Logistilla’s staff, Calvin looked like a construction worker who had groomed himself for a New Year’s party, except that he was enormous, taller and broader even than Titus. He had thick black hair, large cheerful features, and a strong chin that reminded me vaguely of Gregor’s. His arms were unusually long, and thick black hair poked out from under his wrist cuffs.

“Oh, that’s just my Bully Boy. Miranda met him before, but it was a long time ago, so she probably doesn’t remember. His name is Calvin. You can call him Calvin Klein if you like. That’s not his name, but he does wear jeans, so I’m sure he won’t mind,” Mephisto said hurriedly. Taking my arm, he announced, “So, this is Daddy’s place! Come on, Miranda, give us the grand tour.”

Behind us rose a wall of flowering vines. Walking over to it, I pushed aside the greenery to reveal a thick oak door set into a stone wall. At my touch, the door swung open. Beyond, a staircase led upward into darkness. As I stepped forward, a sudden breeze rushed down the staircase and circled me, tugging at my hair and gown, causing my skirts to rise and billow.

“Mistress, you’ve come home,” soft feminine voices spoke out of the breeze. “The master departed and has not returned.”

“Hello, Pinbell and Apple Blossom and Columbine.” I delighted in the feathery touch of these old friends upon my face. Continuing up the stairs, I said, “I know, Father is missing. We are seeing to that. Please make ready the music room for my brothers and myself.”

“And where am I supposed to go?” snapped my sister. “Perhaps you’d prefer if I stood outside? Maybe you have some horses you’d like held?”

“For my brothers and my sister,” I said, sighing.

Behind me, Erasmus said, “No horses here, Dear Sister. You’ll have to content yourself with holding the door for the rest of us.”

I did not catch Logistilla’s response, but moments later Erasmus’s mocking laughter echoed up through the stone walls of the stairway. Ahead of him and just behind me, I could hear Mab pestering Mephisto as the two of them mounted the now pitch dark staircase.

“Don’t give me any of your jaw! I saw you attack that demon,” Mab hissed. “Why are you still carrying that hat? Put it on your head!”

“Shhh,” Mephisto whispered back loudly. “No. And, you can’t make me! It’s an icky hat! It looks stupid.”

“Actually, it’s rather a sporting hat,” offered Ulysses, from behind them.

“You stay out of this!” Mephisto insisted.

“If you’re taking about that Cavalier’s chapeau you were wearing earlier this evening, it’s exactly the kind we used to wear,” said Theo, wheezing from the exertion of the climb. “Makes you look like your old self, Mephisto. You even acted like your old self when you took out Baelor.”