Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I (24 page)

Mab raised his pipe and backed away slowly, keeping his body between me and the barghests. He said softly, “You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking this is the perfect environment for our shadowy teleporter. There’s not much we can do against barghests. Our lights aren’t strong enough to keep them away. By Setebos, I wish I hadn’t thrown that stuff! We could have made a protective circle and stood in it until the sun rose. Let’s get out of here. Where’s your good-for-nothing brother?”

“Mephisto?” I called. There was no answer. “His headlamp is behind the crate there. Perhaps he’s fallen.”

“Perhaps he’s dead,” Mab growled. “We’ll be dead too, if we stick around to find out. Isn’t there anything you can do with that accursed flute? I got my earplugs.”

“I could call down the electricity that runs the warehouse, but it would disrupt the alarm circuit and warn the police.” I backed up uncertainly. The thousand-folded fan of Amatsumaru might be able to damage these semi-substantial foes. Then again, it might not.

“Do it! Better to be arrested than dog meat!” Mab stuck in his earplugs.

The hounds leapt, mobbing Mab. He struck them with his pipe, but no thud came. Mab’s arm sank slowly through their substance, doing them little damage. Where their sable fangs closed about his wrist and shoulder, however, Mab’s trench coat tore with a loud rip. Red blood welled up where they bit him.

The hounds nearest the wounds lapped at Mab’s blood. The ruby liquid seeped into their smoky bodies. Their eyes grew as scarlet as blood. Their fangs paled. Their coats became a silky coal black. Their claws began making ghostly scampering noises against the concrete floor.

As the dogs leapt upon Mab, I drew back and hid among the boxes. Touching two fingers to my tongue, I pointed first at a light socket high overhead and then at the barghests. Raising my flute, I played the capture of the wolf from
Peter and the Wolf
. The melody surged from my instrument, rising and crashing and drawing my spirits along with it. Above, in the ceiling, the sockets began to hiss and buzz with curling blue fire. Almost immediately, a loud alarm blared.

The tongues of blue-white fire drew together to form a javelin of lightning, which leapt from the ceiling and fell among the barghests. The battle became too bright to behold, as a deafening crash ripped the air, and the smell of ozone filled my nostrils.

In the glare, it looked as if an electric white horse with a spiral upon her brow reared above the dogs and pierced them through with her hooves and horn. Then the sparks flickered and fled away. In the returning dimness, I could see Mab, rising slowly from where he lay upon his back. His blood seeped through the rents in his trench coat.

I approached him, glancing down the corridor toward the crate. The light of my lamp fell on scorched concrete beyond which cowered shadowy shapes. Of the more substantial blood-fed beasts, only one had survived. It slunk back among the boxes now, whimpering plaintively. Farther down the corridor, however, fresh barghests poured from the opened crate. My heart grew cold. I could not pull that trick again. Every fuse in the building would be blown. There was no electricity to call—unless I went outside and summoned a storm, a process that could take half an hour.

Oh, if only I were a Sibyl and could call lightning!

Mab wiped the blood from his eyes and looked toward the crate.

Taking out his earplugs, he said. “We better split, Ma’am! Some of the dogs are gone, but more are coming out of the box. Oh-oh, we have company!”

Standing in the darkness between the two rows of shelves, illuminated by the light of Mephisto’s fallen headlamp, was a vast bat-winged shape. The creature was nearly ten feet tall, with a smooth and well-fashioned body, as if a black marble statue had sprung to life. Huge wings spread from its back, and many curling horns crowned its head. Tattered rags fluttered from its arms and legs. A surcoat clothed its body. In the darkness, I could not make out its device.

The demon stepped forward.

Mab rose haltingly to his feet and took a limping step back. “Run, Ma’am! Save yourself. I’ve got to try to close that crate. I’ll follow you if I can.”

I fled.

Halfway to the door, I looked over my shoulder. Over the incessant shriek of the alarm, I could hear the slavering growls of hounds, and Mab’s curses and groans. There were no barghests following me, and the demon had not followed, thank goodness! I was nearly to safety.

Mocking words my brother Erasmus spoke years ago returned to me: “How easily our haughty sister extinguishes the lives of men, like so many flaming moths.” Following close on its heels rang Theo’s more recent statement, “
Sometimes I think Erasmus is right about you
.”

My relief turned to shame. I was leaving my best man back there. Worse,
one of my brothers lay fallen. What if he were still alive? It took a lot to kill one of us. Had not I set out upon this odyssey specifically to avoid losing any more siblings?

I ran back toward Mab, gripping my war fan tightly. When I was nearly there, I turned off my lamp, crept back to the boxes we had originally hidden behind, and peered around the corner.

Mab had made it about a third of the distance to the crate. He was again being mobbed by the smoky hounds. They slavered on his arms and legs, licking at thin fountains of blood. Mab’s face, suddenly dear to me, was slick with sweat, or was that blood, too? Beyond him, I could see the demon looming above the box.

Whispering a silent prayer to my Lady, I ran into the fray.

A skinny, lanky hound scented me. It growled and leapt. I slashed at it with my moon-colored fan. As the glimmering crescent of pale silver struck its dark body, the creature yowled. Thin streaks of gold appeared in its smoky fur where the silver blades wounded it, but it kept coming nonetheless.

Its pale gray fangs could not penetrate my enchanted gown. But the teeth of its mate found the flesh of my hand. I screamed.

“Damn it, Ma’am! I thought I told you to beat it,” Mab growled, but the hope in his eyes told a different story. Pushing through the shadowy bodies of the hounds, I reached Mab and put my back to his.

“It’s ‘all for one, and one for all,’ now,” I replied bravely, recalling only belatedly Theo and Titus’s rather unpleasant experience with the real French Musketeers. “We’ll make it together, or we’ll fall together.”

“Idiotic strategy,” Mab growled, but he kept fighting.

SLOWLY
, we gained ground, drawing closer to the crate and the demon. The barghests snarled and leapt at us, their snapping fangs dripping with our blood. Mephisto’s headlamp illuminated the scene from below, making shadows larger, and the hounds harder to see. Mab’s curses grew audible above the blaring alarm. He cursed himself for being caught without chalk and holy water. He cursed Osae for making him leave it behind. Then, he cursed Mephisto for holding up the cloak and attracting Osae’s attention in the first place.

The lead dog leapt forward, seizing Mab’s arm in its jaws. Mab struck it repeatedly with his pipe, accomplishing nothing. But by the fifth blow, the dog had imbibed so much of Mab’s blood that its body offered resistance,
and the heavy length of lead bounced off its head with a resounding thud. Mab struck the beast on its sensitive nose, and it released him and went crying off toward the crate.

Its fellows drew back, circling Mab with raised hackles and stiffened legs. Then, all together, they rushed forward and fastened their jaws upon his limbs. Their fangs found his face and legs. Blood ran into his eyes. Mab fell to one knee

I was having troubles of my own. I chased off the first three barghests that came my way with a quick slash across the face with my fan. While I swung at a fourth, two others slipped in and found my unprotected ankles. Sharp needle-like pains shot through me, causing me to stumble. As I did so, a more substantial shadow dog, perhaps one that had fed on Mab, leapt upon my back, knocking me over. I went sprawling across the floor, my fan flying from my hand and rattling across the cement.

One of the dogs at my feet yowled and started to writhe. Handmaiden blood had some of my Lady’s virtue. I had slain a vampire once, just by letting it drink some. The barghests seemed able to lap up my blood in small amounts, but this one had drank too much. It twisted and jerked in pain, getting in the way of its fellows and giving me a chance to pull my legs under me. I reached back and grabbed the heavy beast on my back, throwing it from me, though not before it savaged my wrist and hands. This sent a frisson of fear through me. If my hands were damaged too badly, I would not be able to play my flute!

Scrambling to my feet, I ran for my fan, knocking aside three dogs with my enchanted-gown-covered shoulder as I went. Picking up the fan again, I slashed from right to left. Golden ichor hung in the air like a ribbon before the barghests broke, howling. From the corner of my eye, I saw the glowing sapphires of the demon’s eyes grow closer. I turned to face it. Perhaps the demon’s flesh would be vulnerable to the bite of my fan.

Raising a powerful arm clothed in black tatters and tipped with claws of ruby, the demon slashed. The blow caught two barghests, rending their shadowy substance. The smoky hounds screeched and yowled. Steaming golden ichor spilled from their wounds. It had a hot, sweet, metallic smell.

“Geesh! Look at that!” Mab gasped weakly. “The demon is attacking the barghests!”

The pack of inky barghests slunk down and began growling at the dark intruder. The demon smiled a terrible smile and slashed again. More dogs
flew. Lowering its head, the demonic fiend impaled two dogs on its many curling horns, tossing them screaming over the shelving unit to its left. More dogs turned away from us and began circling it.

“Quick, it’s distracted the dogs. Let’s shut that crate,” Mab hissed. We ran rapidly forward, circling about the demon toward the open crate.

The demon lifted its many-horned head. From within its chiseled face, deep-set eyes the color of sapphires fixed upon us, ignoring the hounds. The creature spoke in a deep and melodious voice.

“Quickly now. Our retreat must be fleet of foot. Cowardly barghests have run crying through the gate in this crate to warn their hellish masters. Whatever will next emerge may not be so easily dispersed.” Spying our confusion, the fiend frowned. “What troubles you, sister? Do not you recognize me?”

The demon, tall and majestic, came closer, kicking aside the smoky barghests that yapped at its knees. It stepped into the light of Mab’s headlamp, which illuminated the device on the surcoat: a fleur-de-lis upon a field of sapphire.

“Mephisto?” I asked.

“Merciful heaven!” exclaimed Mab.

“Shall I aid your flight? The steps your short legs take are puny compared to my great stride,” the demon said, stepping toward us and extending his hand.

“The crate! Shut the crate!” Mab shouted above the blaring alarm.

The great dark shape of my brother leapt toward the box, a single beat of the wide black wings carrying him over the snarling barghests. He lifted the lid and slammed it into place.

The smoky hounds growled and yapped. Mephistopheles lifted his ruby-clawed hand and reached toward them menacingly. They slunk back slowly, blending into the shadows until all that could be seen of them was the gleaming red eyes of those who had supped on blood.

Launching into the air, the demon Mephistopheles came sweeping along the corridor between the towering shelves. He swooped down and seized us both about the waist. A second beat of his powerful wings, and we were aloft, tossed under his arms like so many naughty children. Peering around the bulk of his back, wings, and sleek barbed tail, Mab and I met each other’s gaze. As we were rushed through the air away from the yapping barghests, Mab shrugged.

The heavy steel door of the warehouse was before us. Our rescuer landed lightly, curling his wings like a paraglider. Stepping up to the door, he
kicked, striking the door at chest height. The heavy steel door popped free of its hinges and slammed outward, falling over the three-step brick staircase beyond like a steel ramp. Maneuvering us through the doorway, Mephistopheles beat his enormous black wings again and sailed through the darkness, crossing the parking lot to land beside our car.

As soon as we were back on our own feet, Mab and I backed away from the imposing hulk of my-brother-the-demon. The sky was overcast, and the only light was coming from Mephistopheles’s glowing jewel-like claws and eyes. I wanted to question him, to ask him why he looked so uncomfortably like a fiend of Hell, but there was no time. Above the blare of the alarm came the wail of rapidly approaching police sirens.

I prayed to my Lady to protect us and dove into the car.

Mephistopheles stiffened and sniffed the night air. He turned his head very slowly until glow of his eyes came to rest on my face. An eerie glint kindled in their sapphire depths. Something in the gaze unnerved me. Instinctively, I shut the car door between us, though I opened the window. He spoke.

“Do I disturb you, sister? Perhaps I have remained thus long enough. I return now to my puny and lackwitted form. Adieu.”

Mephistopheles bowed his many-horned head and crossed his arms, grasping black muscular biceps with ruby-tipped fingers. He seemed to collapse inward, growing shorter and paler. Then, Mephisto stood before us dressed in his surcoat, the pink of his flesh showing between the black tatters of his ripped shirtsleeves and trousers. He stared about him, his eyes vague and wide with dazed confusion.