Prospero Regained

by L. Jagi Lamplighter

  “Oh, dastardly Daddy!” Mephisto hugged me. “He should never have done that.”

  Logistilla’s withered son batted helplessly at our shoulders, wailing and bemoaning. Logistilla turned and saw him. She pulled away from Caliban and ran forward, wringing her hands.

  “Galeazzo!” she cried. “Oh, my poor son!”

  The five of us (I did not count Ulysses the Snake) tried to speak to Galeazzo, to tell him of heaven and the Brotherhood of Hope, all to no avail. Feeling sorry for Logistilla, who was weeping now, I gave Galeazzo a drop of Water. The sweet scent that filled the air raised our spirits and Galeazzo’s substance seemed less ephemeral; however, there was no change to his state of mind. The Water invigorated him, but he used this new strength to rage and spit curses at heaven. Finally, even Gregor, who had been making the greatest effort of all, admitted defeat.

  Lowering his head and pressing his hands together, he said, “All we can do now is pray.”

  * * *

  “MIRANDA? Erasmus? You’ll want to see this,” Theo’s voice called brusquely. “Logistilla, do you know anything of this?”

  We joined Theo in the next chamber, where Mab was noting something down on his list of Possible Traitors. A pentacle had been etched into the floor, at the center of which stood the stone altar with the miniature images of Erasmus and me impaling each other. Other tools and accoutrements of the arcane arts were on display as well. Near the window, a red and black lizard had been sacrificed upon a second altar. It was pinned down by several stakes and wriggled lethargically, unable to break free.

  “What is this place?” Logistilla walked into the chamber. She uttered a little gasp when she saw the dolls. “Oh, how horrible! Oh, that poor lizard! I hope that thing wasn’t a man once!”

  “Did you do this?” Mab confronted Logistilla.

  “Me? With what, my staff and some rubble? I need models, you know. I couldn’t make a doll that looked like Erasmus out of nothing. The only person I have saved in my staff is Gregor. Besides, why would I do such a thing? Do you think I want my siblings to quarrel? I mean, I admit it is amusing from time to time, but, really, there is a limit!”

  “Then who?” growled Mab. He looked so disappointed at not having found the perpetrator that I felt sorry for him.

  Erasmus asked, “How long have these been here, Detective? Can you tell?”

  Mab shook his head. “Can’t tell because Hell covers its tracks. Makes stuff look like anything it wants. Not like up on the surface, where cause leads to effect.

  “If I had to make a guess,” Mab continued, “based on the dust and the number of bones and such, I’d say a long time. Decades? Centuries? Hard to tell, ’cause matter doesn’t behave right here. Dust could settle in seconds equal to what would take years to accumulate above, just cause it’s, well, Hellish. But I can list our suspects.”

  “Really?” Erasmus glanced at me sidewise. “And who would they be?”

  “If it wasn’t Miss Logistilla, the only obvious candidates are Mephisto and Ulysses,” Mab replied directly.

  “Why them?”

  “They’re the ones who have had access to this place, the only ones who have traveled in Hell before—so far as we know. My first guess would be the Harebrain, because he recognized this place and seemed to know all about it, meaning he could have been here before. But then, the Perp is currently a snake, so if his snaky face showed recognition or guilt, I didn’t have the animal-whispering skills necessary to detect it.”

  “I understand how Ulysses could be a suspect,” Theo said slowly, “since he has access to Hell with his staff, but why Mephisto?”

  “Ix-nay on the emon-day uff-stay!” Mephisto whispered loudly, making a gesture with his finger across his neck. “No reason,” he said more loudly, “the detective just thinks I get around.”

  Theo gave him an odd look but did not inquire further. “Is there anyone else it could be? What about Abaddon? He was the cause of a great deal of our misery.” Behind him, Gregor and Logistilla both nodded.

  Mab lifted his head and sniffed the air carefully. He answered slowly, “Could be … Abaddon is the one who brought up the idea of a traitor … could be he did it himself to plant suspicion. However, it doesn’t smell like him … not that same stink I remember from Miss Logistilla’s house. Begging your pardon, Ma’am.” Logistilla huffed at him. Mab continued, “Besides, demons almost never do this kind of stuff themselves. Something to do with the Heaven/Hell compact. Usually, they get human servants to do it for them.” He sniffed again. “Smells like a human … but not one I can put my finger on. Too old.”

  “Any other clues?” asked Erasmus.

  “Not that I can recognize as such. No footprints or useful hints like that,” Mab snorted and shook his head. “Hell is no place for a detective.”

  “Hell is no place for any of us,” Gregor replied solemnly.

  From Mab’s expression, I could tell that he did not like dropping the matter of who might have put the dolls here, but neither did he want to be the one who told Theophrastus the Demonslayer that we had a demon in the family.

  He turned to me. “Before you got here, Ma’am, we were just discussing how best to disenchant the dolls. Spells like this have to be dismantled carefully. Doing it properly could take hours.”

  “Or, I could blow up the whole chamber with my staff,” Theo offered.

  “What is the downside of that?” Erasmus asked.

  Mab said, “It might cause you and Professor Erasmus some discomfort.”

  “Discomfort as in we might suddenly combust?” Erasmus asked.

  “Nah,” Mab replied. “If Mister Gre … Mister Titus surrounds you with that darkness stuff, you should be okay. You might feel kind of funny, though, when the spell breaks—tingly or something.”

  “I’m willing to risk it.” I stepped forward. “Erasmus?”

  “Oh, certainly!” He gazed with distaste at the dolls. “The sooner the better.”

  I turned to Mephisto. “You’re the local expert. Will damaging this building harm the earthly Milan?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Mephisto chimed in cheerfully. “The less similarity between the two, the less sway the evil twin has over the original.”

  “In that case, Theo, be my guest.” Erasmus gestured at the altar. “Blow this place to Hell.”

  Mab touched his arm. “We’re already in Hell, Professor.”

  “Quite right.” A quirk of a smile twitched at Erasmus’s lips. “Blow the place to Kingdom come!”

  Operating the Staff of Darkness for the first time, Titus surrounded us with a circle of Hellshadow. Then, Theo unlimbered his staff again from where he carried it upon his back and pointed it at the occult chamber. He had strapped his breastplate back on with the strips of sweatshirt and wore it now over his jeans and heavy metal T-shirt. Slipping his goggles back over his eyes, he spread his legs, set his stance, raised the Staff of Devastation, and fired.

  The world erupted into fiery wrath, and the ground beneath us shook. As the altar and the wall behind it evaporated, a wave of hatred and despair struck me such as nothing I have ever felt. I cried out in agony, certain that everything precious in the universe was lost, corrupted, of destroyed. The desire for revenge gripped me. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, as if it had never been. My thoughts cleared.

  So that was the spell breaking! I was grateful to be free of it. Perhaps, things could be different between Erasmus and me from now on.

  Theo regarded the chamber in disgust. “Any reason why I should leave a stone of this revolting place standing? No? Good!”

  Theo turned his staff toward the outer wall and fired, instantly destroying it. Like a fireman struggling with an unwieldy hose, he moved the shining ray of deadly light across the corroded, bloodstained landscape. As the white beam touched each building, it exploded into pure brilliance.

  Wind from the explosion blew his hair about his head and his shirt rippled over his taut chest. I could not see his face, but
I knew he was smiling bravely, showing his teeth. Between the earthshaking booms, I heard his triumphant laughter.

  The city exploded. The walls and the towers and domes beyond disappeared behind a brilliant white light. The air was filled with that hot ozony odor I associated only with Theo’s staff. Then, the brilliance faded, and Dark Milan had been replaced by craters of smooth featureless glass.

  When all was calm again, the presence chamber stood alone, surrounded by a vast glassy expanse, from which little streamers of steam rose up, hissing.

  Theo walked back in, his face around his goggles a deep tan, his forelock bleached a pale blond. His clothes, too, whatever was not covered by the breastplate, had lost some of their color, and were now faded as if they had been too long in the sun. When he pushed his goggles back, there was a raccoon mask of pale skin about his eyes. He grinned, his face alight.

  “Move outside.” Theo gestured at the courtyard, the one place, other than this room, that was not glowing and hot. “I’ll blow this room up, too.”

  “No!” Logistilla leapt protectively before the dilapidated throne beside which the pathetic shade of my dead nephew crouched. She spread her arms. “Galeazzo! Don’t hurt Galeazzo!”

  Theo immediately twisted his staff, and the dynamo hum fell silent. He shouldered it again, frowning. “Hope I didn’t blow up any other family members out there.” He walked over to the withered shade of his nephew. “Galeazzo, are you sure that you do not want to come with us?”

  Galeazzo hugged his pile of ceramic shards and cried in a high thin voice, “Mine! Mine!”

  Theo turned away, frowning sadly.

  “Ma’am, I suggest we get going now.” Mab held up the Staff of Transportation. “Before the big guys send someone to survey the damage.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Leader of the Family Prospero

  “Let’s get this over with,” Logistilla fumed, as a landscape of sinkholes and boulders appeared around the ten of us. “Where’s Ulysses?”

  “Right here.” Gregor held up the snake by the middle, its head and tail flopping unceremoniously.

  Titus, who had been peering up the hill, now pointed. “There’s his body. Still on the same ledge.”

  “Put him there, on that rock,” commanded Logistilla, pointing at a low, flat boulder. Gregor did so. Logistilla angled the globe nestled into the top of her staff, held in place by seven prongs, each carved to look like a different animal, until she caught the reflection of the soul who was shaped like Ulysses. There was a flash of jade-colored fire. Then, Ulysses stood on the rock, naked and blinking sheepishly. Gregor quickly covered his naked body with his crimson robe.

  Narrowing her eyes, Logistilla pointed her staff at the figure of Ulysses still on the ledge. Her staff glowed again. Then, where Ulysses had seemed to be, a large pink pig grunted.

  “That’ll confuse them!” my sister chortled.

  The pig squealed in alarm and fell some thirty yards to the rocks below. Immediately, it was swarmed by serpents, biting its legs and exposed underbelly. The soul with the shape of a pig collapsed, becoming one snake among many, and another pig grew in the midst of the serpents. Then, it was bitten and shrank, and yet another took the shape of the pig. This was repeated numerous times, before one of the pig-shaped souls managed to break free and run.

  “Good show, old chaps!” Ulysses cried, hugging Titus and Theo, who happened to be nearest to him. “Glad to be back!” He gave a little laugh and snatched his staff back from Mab. “Thank you for carrying that for me! I’ll take it now. So, where to?”

  “Away from here,” Erasmus said. “Ulysses, can you take us farther from the snakes?”

  Mab spoke up. “I touched the staff to the ground on the plains approaching Infernal Milan. Seemed like a relatively harmless place, as places down here go.”

  “Can do!” Ulysses held out his free hand toward the rest of us.

  “Great,” said Mab. “Let’s go! The snakes are coming!”

  Sure enough, the ground ahead of us seemed to writhe as a wave of hissing serpents flowed over the rocks toward us, eager to steal our shapes. Ulysses held up his staff and spread out his arm. We all grabbed on, and the snake pits vanished in a flash of white light.

  * * *

  THE Staff of Transportation set us down in the midst of a field of sickly, moldy-smelling grapes. The place seemed empty. In the distance, a tower or two and a few half-ruined buildings stood where Infernal Milan had risen.

  “Mephisto,” I said, “ask the ball what the date is, please?”

  “Ball, show me the date,” commanded Mephisto.

  The mist swirled. Within, we could see a tear-away calendar on a receptionist’s desk in some hotel or hospital. The date read: January 4th.

  “Father dies tomorrow night,” I whispered shakily.

  “Who are we missing?” asked Ulysses.

  “Only Cornelius,” Erasmus said. “Mephisto, where is Cornelius?”

  “Show me Cornelius,” Mephisto announced happily. He bent over the ball. Then, his face went slack and the color drained from it, until he looked surprisingly pale. “H-he’s in the City of Dis! Even if we could reach Dis, we’ll never get past the gates, the guards, and the gorgons. Not before tomorrow, anyway. Oh, poor Corny!”

  “We don’t have to get by all that nonsense to reach Dis,” Ulysses replied smugly.

  “Oh, and why is that?” Mab glared at Ulysses suspiciously, as if expecting him to start picking our pockets.

  “Remember I told you how I got into trouble by asking my staff to take me to the first place it had ever been? Well, that place happens to be spot in the middle of the City of Dis. We can go right there. No walls. No guards. No gorgons.” Frowning he tried to rearrange the long robes so that they did not drag. “Though I should tell you, it’s not a very pleasant place.”

  “Let’s go!” Erasmus stepped forward. “Cornelius needs us.”

  “Wait!” I cried. Everyone turned and looked at me. “Mephisto, does Cornelius seem to be in any trouble or pain?”

  Mephisto shook his head. “Nope. He’s just sort of sitting still. No one is near him.”

  “Then, let’s get Father first! Cornelius seems to be safe, while Father is slated to die. We don’t even know how far away Father is from here.” I looked to Mephisto, who gazed into the ball, jerking his head away and blinking rapidly when he got too close to the dreaded eye-damaging thorns.

  Bent over the ball, Mephisto reported, “If we start back by the Snake Pit, we go up the Paths of Pride, through the pass over the Mountains of Misery, over the Glacier of Hatred, and to near the foot of the Tower of Pain. I say it should take us about a day, including stopping for a nap, but not a really long one.”

  “Is it the morning of the Fourth, now? Or the evening?” I asked.

  Mephisto peered over the ball again. “It’s the morning in Boston and afternoon at Daddy’s island.”

  Erasmus jumped in. “So, Father is to die at midnight tomorrow, and we have thirty to forty hours to reach him, depending upon what time zone Lilith operates in. If Mephisto says it will take us approximately twenty-four, that leaves us an extra six hours or maybe more to get Cornelius! Let’s go!”

  “No! Wait!” I cried. “What if we run into trouble? Either in Dis or on the way to Father, and it takes longer. Shouldn’t we save Father first, and then get Cornelius?”

  “Cornelius is a blind man stranded alone in Hell,” Erasmus shot back angrily. “And Ulysses here says he can take us right there. It would be a crime to leave him any longer than we have to, especially as we don’t know what is happening to him!”

  An argument broke out, with various members of the family joining in to support either myself or Erasmus. Mab weighed in on my side. Caliban said nothing. He strode back and forth with his club on his shoulder, on the lookout for trouble.

  Finally, Caliban came over, lowered his club and addressed the rest of us. “Beg your pardon, Prosperos, but you seem to
be wasting precious time arguing. Why don’t you put the matter up to a vote?”

  “Ooo, a vote, goody, goody!” Mephisto, who had not been paying attention, raised his hand. “Me! Pick me!”

  He began dancing around and spinning in a circle in the middle of a row of grapes. His staff fell free of his hand and circled wildly around his head upon its handcuff.

  “Exactly what are we voting on?” Logistilla asked acerbically. She had let her long hair down and was brushing it out with a brush she had taken from her shoulder bag. “Whom to rescue first?”

  “No,” Erasmus stated, “let’s vote on who is in charge. That way, whoever wins decides our future course of action, and we never have to go through this again.”

  “I’m with Miranda.” Theo came and stood at my shoulder. “While I admit she can be a bit wonky on matters relating to Father’s instructions, she has proven wise and level-headed in all other matters.”

  “And if she should go bad?” Ulysses asked, glancing at me nervously.

  Theo shrugged. “We’ll deal with that if we come to it.”

  “I am with Miranda, too, for what it is worth,” added Caliban.

  Mab pulled his hat over his eyes and hunkered down. “Me, too … not that any of the rest of you care.”

  “Erasmus’s the only one among us with any sense.” Logistilla stood and walked to stand beside him. “I, at least, will look to him.”

  Titus rose slowly. “I am with him as well. I love our sister Miranda dearly, and I think she is kinder than she often pretends. But, if it is a matter of whose hands into which I wish to place the rest of my life? I stand with Erasmus.”

  “Well, then,” Erasmus began, “I think that about decides—”

  “I stand with Miranda,” Gregor’s husky voice interrupted. Dressed merely in his black turtleneck and black pants, he looked like a spy from a foreign movie. “You’re a good man, Erasmus, but if it were not for Miranda, I would still be on Mars.”