Only for the first time it occurred to me that the future did not have to be like the past. We did not need to remain apart. Oh certainly, we might never work all together as we did in days gone by—for one thing, Gregor was dead—but I might be able to repair my relationship with some of them. Mephisto was certainly eager to be on friendly terms, and, despite her acerbic ways, I felt Logistilla had been pleased to see us. If I could find Titus and Ulysses, I suspected they would be happy to see me as well.
If I wanted any chance of gathering my remaining family in one place again, however, I first had to save Theo. If I did not act quickly, the brother I had always been closest to would die of old age. Of course, it was possible my previous attempt to interest him in life again had worked, and Theo had already left his farm and was off hunting Ferdinand. It was even possible he had taken a drop of Water of Life from the vial I left behind and was even now hale and whole, though he would still be an old man, unless he had sought Erasmus’s help.
Possible, but unlikely.
If Logistilla were correct, Theo was now growing old, not because of any actual fear of Hell or hatred of magic, but because our brother Cornelius had used the Staff of Persuasion to enchant him, to force him to keep his foolish vow. My next step must be to confront Cornelius, to find out why he had done this terrible thing, and to make him undo it!
After that, I could follow up on some of my other suspicions concerning Cornelius’s possible involvement in the disappearance of Father and perhaps even in the death of my brother Gregor, back in 1924.
Tomorrow, Cornelius would be attending the New Year’s party thrown by our brother Erasmus. My brothers Titus and Ulysses, who I had not yet contacted, might put in an appearance as well. It would be a good opportunity to reestablish contact with them—and to pass on Father’s message that the Three Shadowed Ones were pursuing our staffs.
Finally, I could discharge my obligation to warn my brothers and be free to turn my attention to saving Father!
I frowned, recalling the question Theo had posed to me: Why was I warning my brothers before I attempted to save Father? The answer, of course, was that Father had asked it of me, and so I had done so. Could Theo be right? Had my father used the Staff of Persuasion to enchant me? Was I incapable of disobeying him? Yet again, I dismissed the idea as foolishness: I would not give any credence to such a theory!
Of course, months ago, I would have sworn Father would never have attacked Ferdinand. Yet, if Ferdinand’s story were true . . .
From behind me, I heard the crack of a stick.
I froze, listening. I was back amidst the trees of Prospero’s Mansion, but not yet inside the stone wall that formed the circumference of the protective wards. Leaves rustled. Another stick cracked, then another. It was clearly footsteps.
Putting my hand into the pocket of my white cashmere cloak, my fingers closed around the moon-silver fan. I peered through the trees, but could see no one. Gazing back toward the house, I caught glimpses of the snow-sprinkled stone wall that girded the mansion. I gauged it at about a hundred and fifty yards away. If I ran, I could probably make it inside the wards before any intruder reached me.
On the other hand, the last time I had contemplated fleeing, the intruder had turned out to be my cat. Stepping behind a large gnarled oak, I peered in the direction of the noise and caught a ripple of gray between two beeches. The flapping movements resembled the leathery wing of an enormous bat. Memories of encounters with demons and the fates they visited upon their unfortunate victims flashed through my thoughts.
The flapping gray object revolved itself, and suddenly, my mind’s eye adjusted to what I was seeing: a man, his shoulders hunched against the cold, dressed in a gray trench coat, with a fedora pulled close over a semi-shaven jaw.
“Mab!” I cried in delight, almost trembling with relief. He jerked, startled, then hurried toward me.
“Miranda!” His voice had grown harsh with cold and fatigue. He regarded me from beneath the brim of his hat.
“What are you doing in the woods? Why didn’t you take the car?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” he said, uttering a short laugh.
“I’ll believe anything you tell me,” I replied kindly. “You’ve proved yourself often enough.”
Mab looked me over and chided. “You came out without your staff.”
“It’s safer in the house. Besides, I have my fan.” I pulled out the weapon. It flashed in the sunlight, mirroring the snowy forest in its silvery slats. I slipped it back into my pocket.
Mab nodded and pulled his collar up against the biting cold. I noticed my teeth were chattering and said, “Come on. Let’s go in.”
“Just a minute,” Mab replied. “There is something I should tell you.”
“Yes?” A cold shiver traveled up my spine. Clutching my white cloak closer, I leaned against the great oak. “Go ahead.”
Mab came closer, until he stood just beside me. His body blocked a little of the icy wind. I felt warmer.
“There is a side effect of living in these bodies Prospero didn’t contemplate. After a time, even the most ethereal spirit starts developing appetites . . . fleshly appetites.”
“What are you babbling about, Mab? And can’t we discuss it inside?” I asked through chattering teeth.
“I don’t think you understand,” Mab said. Suddenly, he shifted his position so he stood before me. He leaned against the oak, one hand to either side of my shoulders, trapping me against the rough bark. “You are very lovely, Miranda, when seen through eyes grown accustomed to earthly flesh.”
“Mab? You’ve gone mad! Get away!” and I shoved him.
He should have flown into the leaf-strewn snow. With the strength lent to me by the Water of Life, I should have been far stronger than any Aerie Spirit, even an incarnate one.
I could not even budge him.
Mab leaned forward, leering down at me. He pinned me against the sharp bark of the oak. Savagely reaching up to grab my hair, he dragged my head back. With his other hand, he pushed aside my cloak and began to slide his fingers along my thigh, lifting my skirt.
I screamed and threw my shoulders from side to side, trying to free myself, or at least grab the war fan. We struggled. The gray fedora got knocked to the snow. The eyes that leered from Mab’s familiar face were reddish-orange, the same shade as the coat of an Irish Setter.
Osae the Red!
No wonder I could not budge him. Even Water of Life did not grant humans strength enough to wrestle shapechanging cacodemons!
“My Lady,” I cried aloud, “aid me!”
“Yes,” whispered the harsh throaty voice in my ear. “Pray to your mistress for the last time, Miranda. After today, She will acknowledge you no longer.”
Terror gripped me. I fought back with all the strength I could muster, to no avail. No matter how much effort I put into twisting my shoulder away from his grip or raising my leg to knee him, he held me in place. A babe of one summer would have had more chance escaping a grown man than I had of throwing off my attacker.
A dark shadow separated itself from the trees and rushed toward my attacker. It bore down upon us like an avenging angel, crimson eyes blazing, sable capes flying against the snow-dusted trees. Before it reached us, however, an ear-splitting boom shook the oak at my back. Osae the Mab arched and screamed, his lips curled back in a snarl of agony, a splash of black ichor marring the shoulder of his trench coat.
Just as his body slumped, the racing apparition reached us. My emerald eyes met Seir’s scarlet ones, and, for an instant, I thought he had come to rescue me. Then his pitch-black arms encircled the wounded cacodemon’s waist, and both demons faded away like nightmares before the sun. I noticed the incubus’s opera cape was still torn and matted with dried blood where the spear Gungnir had struck him. His perfect features contorted with pain as he lifted the heavy Osae.
The two Shadowed Ones were gone. Glancing about, I saw no sign of the third. I stepped away from the t
ree as steadily as I was able—my legs trembling uncontrollably—and peered in the direction from which the shot had come. Down the driveway, about a hundred feet away stood another Mab, the real Mab. Next to him, slowly lowering his rifle, was my brother Theophrastus.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Ivory Door
“I can’t believe you couldn’t tell the difference between a demon and me!” grumbled Mab, as the three of us walked up the long driveway toward the mansion, snow crunching beneath our feet. “Would’ve been a big victory for the Three Shadowed Ones if the Prospero family lost the blessing of Eurynome. You’re damn lucky we got here when we did, Ma’am.”
“Watch your language, Spiritling! You are speaking to a lady,” Theo said gruffly. He wore a bright red plaid hunting jacket and carried his Winchester over his shoulder. The smell of gun smoke still hung about him like a musk.
“I did notice you were acting oddly,” I replied. My limbs still trembled, but I was pleased that my voice sounded calm to my ears. “Just hadn’t occurred to me it might be the shapechanger.”
“When dealing with Osae the Red, always think ‘shapechanger’!” Theo shook his grizzled head. “That’s what I found back in the 1620s when he was hunting me. I remember once stopping to free a half-starved cat that had gotten itself caught in a rabbit trap. The blasted cat tried to scratch my face off, then turned into a full-sized boar with beady red eyes. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“You’ve asked me four times now, Theo.” I smoothed back the strands of pale silver-blond hair that had escaped from their neat Grecian twist during my struggle with the demon. “I’m fine.”
Theo walked a few steps in silence, then turned toward me. It was eerie to gaze at his face, with its deep lines and short-trimmed beard. He looked so old, and yet I could still see the handsome youthful Theo I remembered, lingering like a ghost behind the features of this aged stranger. My heart leapt every time I caught a glimpse of the young stalwart Theo.
“Like heck!” he swore. “Don’t forget, Miranda, I’ve known you nearly your entire life. Your cool exterior doesn’t fool me! Inside, you’re seething. I’ve seen you arrange men’s deaths because they treated you too forwardly, much less manhandled you and thrown you against a tree! You want us to throw everything else aside and devote all our energies to hunting down Osae the Red. Am I right?”
“I’m not angry, Theo,” I replied, not meeting his eye.
Theo frowned at Mab. “If you will excuse us, I’d like to talk to my sister privately.”
“Sure thing.” Mab lowered the rim of his fedora. “I’ll be inside . . . laying out the evidence bags.”
Theo waited until Mab was out of earshot, before continuing. Crossing his arms, he began, “What’s holding you back this time? Let me guess, it’s because Father asked you to—”
I raised my finger and held it to his lips. He fell silent.
“I’m not angry.” My voice sounded oddly faint. The distance up the driveway to the house seemed surprisingly long, as if the mansion were receding from us as we walked, and the forest seemed unnaturally silent. I started every time snow fell from the overburdened boughs.
Theo leaned toward me and peered at me closely, frowning. Then, he noticed my shoulders were trembling.
“Scared? You?” In his astonishment, Theo actually looked young again. “I don’t believe it! But . . . why?”
I just shook my head mutely. Theo put his arm around me and pulled me roughly against his chest, hugging me. Following so closely upon the cacodemon’s assault, Theo’s embrace evoked a sense of rising panic, but the warmth of his body, the scratchiness of his coat against my cheek, and the familiar scents about him—gun oil, wood smoke, and a whiff of the same aftershave he had worn decades ago—broke through the cloud of fear, bringing comfort. I hugged him back, burying my face in the lapels of his hunting jacket. He patted my back.
When I could speak again, I blurted out. “Osae nearly got me! . . . If you hadn’t shown up, Theo, that would have been it—for me, for all of us! And this is the third time in a month I’ve been attacked on my own property. Oh, and there are demons in our staffs! Father never told us!”
“You didn’t know?”
I pulled back and searched his face. “You knew?”
“Certainly. Why did you think I was so adamant about giving up magic?”
“Why didn’t you tell the rest of us?”
“Didn’t know you didn’t know. Though . . .”—Theo frowned—“now that I’m thinking about it, Father may have asked me not to mention it.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t explain. He merely said, ‘It would be for the best.’ ”
“And you obeyed?” I asked.
“Of course, I . . .” He faltered, frowning.
“I obey Father for the same reason you do, Theo.” I stared at where the confusion of our footprints marred the virgin snow. My voice was low. “Because he’s our father.”
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 ligh
t 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.”
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