Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I (40 page)

The tall Egyptian figure touched two fingers to the golden lips of the pharaoh mask and pointed them at Seir. The incubus’s face went slack, and his body became rigid. A deep, jarringly inhuman voice issued from his mouth. The voice made my hackles rise.

“
Puny mortals, vile flesh worms. I know the secrets of your innermost thoughts. I know your insatiable desires, your pathetic hopes, your private fears. I know why the once proud Prospero Family has grown twisted and warped; why Theophrastus’s wrath leads him to embrace death, and Titus grows too slothful to maintain his vigil; why Logistilla is consumed by envy, while despair gnaws upon the innards of the once-proud sorcerer. I know your petty secrets, too, Prince Mephistopheles, and yours, O Maiden of Ice, and I spit upon you both in my contempt
.”

Mab stiffened, and I felt my heart beating in my throat. What did Baelor—I assumed this was Baelor somehow speaking through the incubus—mean? Was there a reason for all this madness that had been afflicting us, an explanation?

I longed to cry out, to beg him to tell me, but, of course, he was a demon. Anything he said would most likely be a lie. This did not mean his boasts were empty. Demons were notorious for telling just enough truth to lead men astray.

Seir continued in his inhuman voice, “
I know you as well, Caekias Boreal, who currently plays at a guise called Mab. Why do you allow yourself to be enslaved by these mortals, born but what must die? I know your inner nature. It is akin to mine, filled with wrath and boiling desire. Why do you aid their efforts to oppress you?
”

Mab had remained granite-faced since completing the ward, but I saw him wince when Baelor called him by his ancient name. Was it a name of power, by which Mab could be compelled? Or was he merely reluctant to be reminded of his past?

Before the demon could continue, Mephisto begin to shout. His voice rose in panic, but I noticed a subtle gleam in his eye.

“Come on, Miranda! Detective! Do something, or they’ll use it! If they use my staff, we’re doomed! All kinds of horrible things can come out of my staff. We’ll never get away!”

I shook my head, embarrassed for him. Even demons could not be that stupid. Mab must have felt similarly, for he muttered very softly, “Oh, great one, Harebrain. What you going to do next? Ask them to throw Br’er Rabbit in the briar patch?”

“
I give you one last chance, vile vessel of clay
,” the deep voice of the mind reader spoke through the incubus’s sable mouth.

The incubus relaxed, glanced about alertly, and spoke in his own sweet voice. “Lady Miranda, will you surrender the
Staff of Winds
?” When none of us replied, he continued. “Then, as Prince Mephistopheles suggests, his own handiwork shall bring about your demise.” Seir tilted his head, his scarlet eyes regarding Baelor, who raised the
Staff of Summoning
.

They had fallen for it. I could not believe it.

The masked mind reader placed his long gold-clad fingers upon the jeweled eyes of one of the figurines, and tapped the
Staff of Summoning
upon the ground. A trick of the light made the pattern of shadows on the hot bricks look remarkably like some great beast.

Then, a real great beast crouched in the alley. The creature had three heads: an enormous lion with a thick tawny mane, a goat with huge curving horns, and a dragon with a mouthful of cruel teeth. Behind these came the agile body of a goat. Its tail, which was curled up over its shoulder, ended in a great orange stinger, shiny with poison. As the creature stalked toward us, it opened its sharp-toothed serpent mouth and breathed curling bursts of hot, fetid fire.

Mab let go of Mephisto and gave him a push toward the thing. Then,
he stepped back and put his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, frowning. Reluctantly, I released my brother.

From beyond the beast came Osae’s breathy laughter. Seir’s soft voice followed. “Surrender the
Staff of Winds
, and we will call off the chimera.”

“Death first!” Mephisto called back, grinning widely.

Seir’s voice floated over the back of the monster. “As you wish.”

The chimera growled and charged, its steel hooves throwing up sparks as they thundered against the yellow bricks. Fire curled about the green scales of its serpent snout, smelling of brimstone. Mephisto rushed forward. Stopping abruptly in front of the thing, he spread his arms and yelled at the top of his lungs,

“Hello, Chimie! Don’t you recognize me?”

The great beast piled forward, ignoring the greeting. Too late, I remembered Mephisto’s words when his lute broke:
My friends don’t recognize me
. Horrified, I watched as the creature set upon my brother, knocking him to the ground and opening its giant lion maw to swallow his head. My mad brother was about to meet a very unfortunate, yet sadly fitting, end, eaten by his own chimera. I leapt forward to help him, but the dragon head breathed fire at me. Jumping back, I patted out the flames on my skirt.

“Damn,” whispered Mab. “We’d better run for it. Maybe, if we run out into the traffic, the mythical beast’ll get hit by a car.”

“If we’re not hit first.” I drew back slowly, my hand gripping my flute tightly in one hand and my fan in the other.

“Hey . . . wait a second.” Mab paused. “Well, would ya look at that!”

The chimera had halted. Slowly, the lion released Mephisto’s head and sniffed him with its huge wet nose. Mephisto lay absolutely still, his dark locks singed. From where I stood, I could see his eyes were squeezed tightly closed. Perhaps, he was praying.

The chimera’s three heads sniffed Mephisto. The lion’s great pink tongue slipped out and licked Mephisto’s cheek, its goat head butted his stomach, and the serpent head began to rub against his leg. My brother opened one eye and then the other, an expression of unadulterated joy spreading across his face. Reaching up, he scratched the lion head behind the ears. From its body came a rumbling noise. Could the chimera be purring?

“Hi, there, Chimie,” Mephisto cried. “It’s me. You know me! Your boss? The guy who loves you and feeds you? The one who is supposed to own that staff?”

Peering under the scaly serpentine tail, Mephisto called to the Three Shadowed Ones. “Pity that staff doesn’t let you command the things you summon, isn’t it, guys? Oh, well. Your loss!” To the chimera, he said gaily, “Get ’em, boy!”

The chimera leapt toward the Three Shadowed Ones, flame spurting from its serpent mouth. Immediately Seir of the Shadows winked out like a snuffed candle.

I caught a whiff of freshly-struck matches. Then, a silky masculine voice whispered in my ear, laughing. “Give me the
Staff of Winds
, my dearest love, and I shall not trouble you again.”

With a single motion, I whipped the mirrored fan of Amatsumaru behind me and slashed his throat. Turning, I saw my blow had fallen short, merely drawing a razor-thin line across his windpipe. A tiny ribbon of crimson blood appeared across the black satiny skin of the incubus’s neck. It matched his eyes.

“Ah, my mistake,” he said politely and vanished. Reappearing between his two companions, he threw an arm about them both.

“
Think not that you have escaped us
.” This time, Baelor’s jarring voice issued from the shapechanger’s mouth. “
If you keep the staves, you are thieves. If you return them, you aid the cause of Hell. Either way, your place among the damned is assured. By Twelfth Night, it shall be sealed!
”

Darkness welled up from Gregor’s staff, and the three demons vanished like a shadow before the sun. The chimera reached the place where they had stood and pawed the ground, sniffing.

“Stupid dopes,” snorted Mephisto. “They could have just used the staff again to send Chimie away.” Turning to us with a hand on his hip, he announced, “Always pays to know your tools!”

WE
could not take the chimera on the Lear, so we opted to have lunch while we discussed our options. We found an empty café overlooking the beach. Mab and I sat on the rounded white plastic chairs beneath a blue awning that kept some of the day’s heat off our faces. Mephisto rested on top of the chimera, his hands knotted about the mane. The waiter who approached us gazed at the chimera with an expression of puzzlement and growing terror.

“Stage prop,” Mab said tiredly, waving a hand at the monster. “We’re from Hollywood.”

The terror died from the young man’s eyes. He stared, intrigued.

“Is there a role for me in your movie?” he asked, in his lyrical island accent.

“No,” Mab replied flatly.

Cowed, the waiter took our orders and retreated.

“Are we really doomed and damned?” Mephisto asked from the back of the chimera. “These pesky spirits have been flinging about an awful lot of prophecies of gloom lately.”

“Most likely,” Mab replied tiredly. “You play with fire, you get burned. You play with the Powers of Hell, you get damned.”

“We are not damned yet!” I declared. “Nor shall we be, if I can do anything about it!”

“That’s the spirit, Miranda,” my brother cheered. “Knock ’em dead! Or alive. Or something.”

As we waited for our food, I noted that Mephisto was playing with a black dirk with a ruby set in the pommel. I asked to see it.

“I found it at Logistilla’s.” Mephisto handed me the knife.

“It looks familiar,” I said.

“Titus and I made it,” Mephisto explained, “for one of Gregor’s Centennial Masquerade costumes.”

“Centennial Masquerade?” asked Mab. “That’s when all the world’s immortals gather once a century to chat, right? In costume, as if that’s going to help hide their identities. Let me see if I remember . . . on the night of the first full moon after midsummer on the last year before the new century.” Mephisto and I nodded. Mab continued, “I attended once. I was part of a costume with a few other guys. I got to control the left knee. Had a grand time blowing humans’ tunics around and carrying off their hats.” Seeing our frowns, Mab added quickly, “This was a while ago, of course, before we worked for Prospero.”

“You went!” I said, amazed. “I’ve heard gods and spirits come among us sometimes. I never believed it though.”

“Elves come, too,” said Mephisto.

“Yeah, King Alastor usually goes,” said Mab.

“Really?” I asked. “How does he dress?”

“Like himself,” said Mab. “Huge antlers, mirrored purple cloak.”

“Oh, him! I thought he was a Fomori. No wonder he didn’t have an Irish accent.” I had danced with the King of the Elves in a London ballroom and had not known it!

“Miranda’s elf went once, but she didn’t recognize him,” said Mephisto.

“I don’t own my own elf, Mephisto,” I said wearily, though Mephisto’s words prompted me to wonder. Had the elf lord come after all? I remembered the wry humor in his stormy eyes and felt mildly sad that he had not chosen to reveal himself. Of course, I reminded myself, Mephisto might be inventing the whole thing.

Mephisto was speaking happily into the chimera’s lion ear. “Chimie, you and me! We’re going to show this old world. We’ll get my staff back, won’t we! They’ll see!”

“What in creation are we going to do with this thing, Ma’am?” Mab gestured toward the chimera.

“Easy,” Mephisto replied. “I just hold on to Chimie until they tap the staff to call him back. They will. They’re demons of Hell, after all. They’re not allowed to leave magical beasts hanging around on the sunlit plane. Then, when Chimie goes back, I go too and grab my staff. Easy as pie!”

“Begging your pardon for asking, but how do you get away after that?” Mab asked.

“Hmm,” said Mephisto. “I know!” He halted and looked at me hesitantly, a speculative gleam in his eye. “What happened to that cloak, the one Mab found at the thrift shop?”

“It’s gone,” I said.

“Gone! Gone how?” Mephisto sat straight up.

“We destroyed it,” said Mab. “It’s gone, finished, kaput.”

“When? I don’t remember!” Mephisto cried plaintively.

“At Theo’s, while you were asleep,” I said.

“You let Theo see it? Oh, you dopey-heads! Now, how am I going to be able to sneak around? I only left it at the thrift shop because I needed money. You had no right to destroy it!”

The hair at the nape of my neck stood on end. I asked softly, “Only left what, Mephisto?”

Mephisto’s face went suddenly pale, as if he only just realized to whom he was speaking. He smiled a nervous smile and babbled, “Anyway, I’ll find a way to escape without it. You see, they won’t be expecting me. And once I can grab my staff, I’ll have all my friends. They can’t make my friends their friends just by tapping the staff, can they, Chimie? I’ll call Behemoth and Leviathan and Nessie. Or maybe the monstrosity from the Black Abyss. See how well the Three Shadowed Ones deal with him, eh?” Mephisto continued
rapidly. He swung his legs out so that he was stretched across the chimera as if it were a Roman couch, one hand entangled in its mane, the other outstretched. “Teach them to trifle with Mephistopheles, Prince of H . . .”

Before he could finish, he and the chimera vanished; fading away as if their presence at the table had been nothing but a trick of the light.