Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I (14 page)

Mab stared helplessly from the growling dog to his lead pipe, which lay behind the dog, resting against a snowy rock.

“Dang!” he said.

“Bodyguard, do something,” Mephisto yelled at Mab. He scattered his handful of gravel randomly, pelting the dog, who cringed, but then leapt again. His paws struck me full on the chest, and we tumbled backwards.

I managed to twist so as to land with my body covering my flute but without damaging it. The setter growled and snapped, its teeth still unable to penetrate the fabric of my enchanted gown. It was only a matter of time before it realized that my head and hands were unprotected.

As the dog attempted to maul me, Mab used the opportunity to retrieve his pipe. He brought it down hard on the creature’s head. The dog cried out with a horrible yowl. Blood matted the fur by its left ear. It cowered back, snarling at Mab. Mab swung again.

The Irish Setter shivered and shrank, its body twisting and changing. Its fur grew feathery and deepened to a true red. Mab’s pipe swung through empty air. Near his right elbow hovered a red cardinal, which quickly flew up and away.

“Holy Croesus! A blasted shapechanger!” Mab swore, swinging at the red bird and missing. “More than one shape too! That rules out skin-changer.” He swung his pipe back and forth rapidly where the dog had been. “Can’t be just fairy glamour, or the perp would still be here for me to pound. No, that sucker flew away for real!”

“Pooka?” asked Mephisto. “Some of them can do more than one shape.”

“Maybe, but they’re usually black in color. There are a lot of spirits native to the Americas that change shape . . . but an Irish Setter?” Mab shrugged, his hand shading his eyes as he surveyed the sky overhead for any sign of our assailant. “My call is cacodemon, or maybe a lesser deity. Deities change shape big time, but most of them wouldn’t bother with subtlety now that the jig is up . . . they’d just blast us.”

While the two men talked, I scrambled to my feet and pulled the fighting fan from my coat. The silver segments slid open silently, reflecting the falling snow like a gleaming mirror.

Mab stood silently, head half-cocked, as if listening. Mephisto stood on his tiptoes staring up into the sky. Both hands were pressed against his face, cupping his eyes like blinders. I looked up as well. All was a vast whirling whiteness.

Out of the whiteness, a rapid red speck approached. It flew toward Mab, who attempted to swat it with his pipe. Just above Mab’s head, the creature swelled immensely, becoming an ugly gray rhinoceros with tiny russet eyes. Mab looked up, mouth gaping. The rhino fell heavily to the ground, its descent broken only by the mass of Mab’s body.

“Mab!” I cried, stricken. “Mephisto! You said you would help! Do something!”

My cry broke Mephisto out of some kind of reverie. He lurched forward and seized the other end of my flute. Startled, I let go. With my heart in my mouth, I watched him run away, waving my precious instrument before the rhino’s tiny red eyes.

“Hey, you big old beast,” he cried out, flinging his arms wide. His head was flung back. The sunlight shimmered off the flute in his outstretched hand. “Don’t you recognize me?”

The rhino lowered its head and charged at Mephisto, thundering across the wide gravel parking lot. Unlike the Irish Setter, I could never have mistaken this beast for the real thing. It was hideous, lacking the beauty and symmetry of its natural counterpart. An aura of malice surrounded it, something sinister and seething that turned my stomach.

As it thundered forward, Mab’s crumpled and flat form emerged, sprawled upon the ground. I gasped in horror, running to his side. As I did so, Mab’s lead pipe rose into the air, accompanied by a loud whooshing noise.

“It’s all right, Ma’am. I’m here.” To my great relief, Mab’s voice spoke from somewhere above my ear. His voice sounded reedy, as if an oboe gave voice. “Saw the thing was going to squash me and abandoned my body before the rhino landed on it. If I’d waited a second longer to bail, I’d have been a goner! Body looks pretty crumpled. Hope you’ll be willing to spare a drop or two of Water of Life, Ma’am, so we can fix it up.”

As the rhino charged, Mab’s lead pipe flew toward it. Mab reached the rhino just as the rhino reached Mephisto. The lead pipe, seemingly on its own, slammed down on the beast’s head . . . and bounced off. The foul creature was not even distracted.

As I circled the rhino, desperately searching for an opening to strike, the monster lowered its head to gore my brother. Mephisto was not the least dismayed. Leaping into the air, he vaulted one-handedly across its back as lithe as any gymnast, still holding my flute in his other hand. Twisting in mid-air, he landed on his feet behind the rhino, facing his foe with his arms spread victoriously. From the air above, Mab whistled in appreciation.

“Come on, boy! Try it again!” Mephisto called, waving my flute wildly above his head. It whistled as the air whipped through it. I bit my lip. If my brother kept that up, he might accidentally call up a tornado. The beast charged again, bellowing a horrible noise reminiscent of a manic bull.

After the third time Mephisto leapt over the creature’s back, it slowed and pawed the ground, swinging its great head from side to side. A gleam came into its tiny red eye. Lowering its horn, it charged. Mephisto smiled cockily. He bowed, sweeping his arms to either side, and vaulted. As Mephisto flew through the air, the beast shivered and shrank, transforming into a hideous porcupine with bright red eyes. Instead of leathery hide, Mephisto’s hand came down on needle-like quills.

Mephisto yelped in pain and fell sideways. He tossed the flute into the air and hit the ground with a roll. Sitting up again, he began pulling at the barbed quills stuck in his hand.

My precious flute spun end over end, twirling like a parade marshal’s baton. It arced through the snow-specked sky, and then stopped, dangling, frozen in mid-air.

I stood, gawking, and then hurried forward to grab it, thanking the invisible Mab loudly. No point in tempting him beyond his means. Reluctantly, the air released the flute to my grasp. I hugged it to me.

From behind me, Mephisto shouted, “No! Get back!”

He had jumped to his feet, his face a mask of horror. Coiled about his arm was a deadly copperhead. Its slitted gray eyes stared hypnotically into his. Its tongue flickered rapidly. It hissed. Before Mab or I could act, the vile creature struck, sinking sharp fangs into the soft flesh of Mephisto’s inner wrist.

Horrified, I ran to my brother. The snake’s slitted eyes fixed upon me. Slithering to the ground, it expanded into the rhino again. The great malformed beast lowered its head and charged toward me.

I had never seen a real rhino up close. The creature was enormous, a living tank with gray armored hide covering four tons of meat and muscle. It came thundering toward me, moving astonishingly swiftly despite its short stubby legs. Its loud bellow formed a white cloud in the frosty air. Its curving gray-brown horn, a mockery of my Lady’s graceful spiral, pointed at my heart. The earth beneath my feet shook.

Terrified, I longed to break and flee, but that would mean abandoning Mephisto. Taking a stand for my brother, my flute, and my beloved Aerie Ones, I gripped the engraved handle of the moon-silver fan and faced the monster. Surrendering my will to my Lady, I waited for Her to tell me when to strike. As the beast bore down upon me at the speed of an automobile, the answer came like a soft breath on the back of my neck.

Now
.

Stepping nimbly aside, I swung my war fan, severing the rhinoceros’s horn from the creature’s snout as cleanly as a kitchen knife slices butter. Apparently the shapechanger had nerves where a real rhino would not because it roared in pain. Its gray hide rippled, became reddish and furry as it reared back, and I found myself confronting an enormous grizzly bear.

The rust-colored bear was as ugly and unnatural as the rhino had been, yet as large and powerful as a real grizzly! Its monstrous head alone was
broader than my shoulders. Sticky black ichor streamed down its jaws from its missing nose. The fetid smell of the ooze was overpowering as it mingled with the pungent bear musk emanating from the creature’s thick, matted fur. The repulsive beast towered over me, a good eight feet tall, eager to crush me in its embrace of death.

I swung the fan, but the beast’s looming bulk closed with me too quickly. The slats of the fan folded, collapsing harmlessly and doing no damage. I leapt backwards, hoping to escape the bear’s embrace. With a jerk of its enormous paw, the bear swatted me, sending me sprawling. Its sharp claws slashed through my trench coat as if it were wet paper but scraped harmlessly against my enchanted gown.

Flying through the air, I hugged my flute, hoping to cushion its fall. Only the ground never approached. Instead, a wind buoyed me upward, and the earth fell away beneath me. I felt myself yanked toward where Mephisto lay crumpled on the gravel. Mab’s human body hung in the air beside me, motionless and empty.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Mab’s reedy voice blew in my ear, “but you might want to play that accursed instrument. We’ve got to get out of here. Your brother has been poisoned. I don’t think I can carry the two of you and my body without some help.”

As Mab swooped to grab my brother, I raised my precious flute to my lips and played “The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze.” The music swelled around us, buoying us upward, and cold yet friendly winds whistled about our ears. Quick as swallows, we soared away from the grizzly, who roared with anger.

As we circled through the white flurries of falling snow, Mab’s oboe-like voice sang in my ear.

“He’ll probably turn into a condor next or a golden eagle. He might even try a raven and swoop at our eyes. Might want to have a few songs ready.”

I nodded tensely, watching the grizzly and anticipating another metamorphosis at any moment. None came. Turning, the beast lumbered though the falling snow toward the road, growling menacingly. In the distance, I could hear the dim roar of an engine.

“What’s he doing? Giving up? Seems strange, since we know he can do birds,” Mab muttered. “Oh, no! Miss Miranda! He’s after the car!”

Sure enough, the giant bear crossed the road, heading toward the gas station. The thin teenager behind the counter must have had a view of our
entire battle. He hurried to lock the door of the convenience store. The grizzly never so much as glanced in his direction. It headed directly for the far side of the station where our rental car was parked.

Still playing, I increased the tempo, requesting more speed. We were heavily weighed down, however, by myself, my listless brother, and Mab’s fleshly body. We moved rapidly across the distance, but not rapidly enough. The beast would reach our vehicle first.

Looming over our car, the horrifying bear raised its great paw with five razor-sharp claws. Just then, a white pickup truck rounded the bend in the road. A loud crack rang out across the countryside. The terrible grizzly bear fell silently backwards, ichor spurting from its left eye, and lay as if dead.

The pickup truck drew up beside us and slowed to a stop. A man in a buff coat climbed from the passenger side and came slowly around the car toward us, carrying his still-smoking Winchester. He was an older man with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His brown eyes were keen and deeply set. He had a strong Roman nose. I knew his face almost as well as my own.

“Father!” I shouted with joy. He looked older than I had remembered. This fight with the Three Shadowed Ones must be sapping his strength. “You trimmed your beard.”

From under Mab’s other arm, Mephisto said weakly, “That’s not Father. That’s Theo.”

“You can stay long enough to fix up Mephisto. Then, you go,” my brother Theophrastus announced.

We had driven out to Theo’s house, which stood in an apple orchard in the wilds of Vermont. The road to the house led through acre upon acre of apple trees: Red Delicious, Rome, Macintosh. The apples had all been harvested, save for those that had fallen to the ground. The leafless trees stood like gnarled ghosts in the swirling flurries.

Theo lived in an old white farmhouse. Behind the main building was a large red barn. Near the barn, black-and-white cows roamed through a snowy paddock enclosed by an old split-rail fence.