Mnemo's Memory

by David Versace

  "Oh dear. You still look like that?" asked Mistress Katerina Phasmagora. "I do hope you will surprise me one of these days, Mr Lupin. But come, what's today's business?"

  Lupin twitched his nose, his mood unreadable to human eyes. His cheerful tone reflected a gladdened heart. "Our client is a theatrical man, greatly vexed by troublesome Cardinale-sprites. They loosen knots in the rigging-ropes. They feed the players rude words instead of their lines. They steal costume hats and violin bows and dressing-room doorknobs!"

  For one blink, a darkness passed over Katerina's eyes, then they shone green with excitement. "What a decided menace, Mr Lupin. We cannot have the stage become the scene of a farce."

  Lupin agreed. "I trust you have some insight into such bedevilments?"

  "Rely upon it, Mister Lupin." The quirking corners of Katerina's mouth brought a twitch to his whiskers. "Be on your guard. Their trickiness is renowned."

  #

  Katerina deployed her encyclopaedic knowledge of haunts, stalks and entities malign. She named the first Cardinale as Grax, a "quizzical-faced creature of unsophisticated pleasures, who feeds on secrets never spoken". Lupin soon found it in the outermost lighting rig above the auditorium. It hunched among the beams, wrapping its tapering crimson torso around support cables and swinging the detached head of a ventriloquist's dummy at the lens of a heavy spotlight. It tittered with malicious glee as pulverised glass and a shower of sparks sprayed into the stalls far below.

  Lupin glanced down at the auditorium, where Katerina's crystal splashed petals of gentle azure light across the plush leather seats.

  "It may look like a monkey cracking a coconut," Katerina had warned, "but Grax possesses a raft of psychokinetic talents and carries a hardwood head. I propose great caution."

  When Lupin stepped into the ring of lights, Grax ceased its destruction. It coiled itself into a protective convolution and stared with unfeigned malice.

  "What doing?" The dummy's wooden lips hissed like a venomous child.

  Lupin suppressed a small thrill of terror beneath his long abandoned stage persona. "My good Grax, I come tonight to dazzle and delight you, motivate and frighten you, move you to tears and forget you your fears. I am Lupin the Illusionist!"

  But Grax was unmoved by his theatrical banter. It flung the dummy's head, which came to life, bobbing and weaving on unseen strings. Its guillotine mouth snapped at Lupin's ears and took away a whisker.

  "Lupin!" cried Katerina from her crystal prison below, helpless to assist. A pang deep in Lupin's chest hardened his resolve.

  He whisked out two silver mirrors. Dodging the lunging dummy-head, he leaned toward the Cardinale. "Come close. I will whisper you a secret."

  Grax resisted for but a moment. It slithered toward Lupin on empty air. Lupin said in a hush, "My love for my greatest rival is exceeded only by my envy". The little red demon writhed in an ecstasy of satiation.

  Lupin held one mirror this way to catch a searchlight's beam and the other to capture Grax's position just so. The dummy-head fixed its dead eyes upon Grax. Dazzled by the light, it confused the Cardinale with Lupin's reflection. In three great snaps of its jaw, Grax was gone, consumed in a puff of lavender fog. The lifeless dummy-head fell into darkness.

  #

  "Next you face Kolli, Mister Lupin. It will not be easily fooled. Kolli can seize your past and turn it against you."

  Lupin said "Your knowledge of these Cardinales is quite specific, Mistress Phasmagora. An encounter during your stage career perhaps?"

  Katerina would not be drawn on her experience. "Chaos rules Kolli's nature. Defeat him in a game of chance."

  Was her reticence pride or stubbornness? Long ago, when their competition for the playbill's premier ranking reached its height, both qualities were prominent. Her presence had been mesmerising, first haughty then sly, tragic then gleeful. Her voice had chimed with wit, curiosity and certainty. Her hands had fluttered like birds in flight, working wonders of dexterity and deception.

  Lupin missed her hands the most, even more than his own face. How many times had he sat anonymous in darkened stalls like these, watching those hands ply their trade with cunning grace? At first he hoped to decipher their elegant dance but he soon forgot his scheme.

  On the day his head turned into that of a rabbit's, his one great heartbreak was to realise he could never again be inconspicuous in her audience.

  "What have I to fear?" said Castro Lupin. "I am formidably armed in both wits and looks."

  #

  Kolli laid the dressing rooms to siege. It stole makeup brushes to paint obscene mathematical equations on the walls. It chewed dressing-mirror light bulbs and hangers from the costume wardrobes; its foetid droppings were spiked and bloody. It defaced posters with insulting commentary on performers' careers.

  Within her crystal, Katerina sunk into unreadable silence. Lupin surveyed the carnage with consternation, for he loved no place better than the backstage. The hubbub of flustered stage managers, busy crews and countless performers was a sacrosanct oasis. The fur of Lupin's neck ruffled at Kolli's intolerable violation.

  "Kolli," he called, his voice echoing from the green room to the costumier's shop, "let us resolve this encounter like gentlemen."

  A voice like the crunch of dead leaves replied, "Shall we delay the bloodletting for feigned pleasantries?"

  Kolli emerged from the star's dressing–chamber, wearing an admiral's uniform and a bicorn hat. The latter seemed to fold about Kolli's forehead horns, at angles that repulsed Lupin's eye. It felt impossible to look upon the unnatural millinery.

  "Here, Lupin!"

  Lupin turned around, his herbivore ears and whiskers shivering with frantic disorientation.

  Kolli held Katerina's crystal encasement, pressing its leering face close. Its stiff features flowed as though invisible fingers were working pliant wax. Now it looked like old Fittling, Lupin's booking agent, long since in his grave.

  "Lupin, what company you keep! You call this creature an ally? Your judgment was better in your youth."

  When Fittling was a new acquaintance, Lupin had confided: "Katerina Phasmagora is beloved by all but nobody's friend. She guards her techniques jealously and spurns her peers." Fittling had laughed, accusing him of youthful envy. But Lupin knew only a superior illusionist could claim her attention.

  In time, with dedication, aptitude became talent and finally genius. Lupin won acclaim from everyone but she whose regard he courted. Katerina never acknowledged him, not until long after his head became a rabbit's and hers lost its body.

  Lupin said "The face you wear insults my oldest friend."

  "Then your memories imprison you, Lupin." Fittling's kind face curled into a contemptuous snarl. "One way or another, Kolli will free you." A steel knife flashed in his gnarled hand and punched just beneath Lupin's throat.

  "Free yourself, demon." As a crimson stain spread across his impeccably pressed shirt, Lupin produced a forest green silk handkerchief from his sleeve, then others: lavender, bronze, violet. He hurled them at Kolli. Each clung where it landed.

  Lupin threw more and more silk, until Fittling's body was obscured. Kolli struggled but it was pinned in place.

  Lupin drew his wand. He tapped the writhing wrapping at its apex. The silk squares dropped to the floor in a limp bundle, leaving nothing but air in their place. Kolli was gone.

  #

  "Did I not suggest you might challenge him to cards or dice?" said Katerina.

  "In an inspired moment," Lupin replied, "I disregarded your advice in favour of being stabbed." He removed his coat and worked his shirt buttons loose with shaking fingers.

  Katerina peered up fretfully as he mopped blood with a discarded handkerchief.

  "This wound is serious. The blade is lodged. You must seek help."

  "One Cardinale remains."

  "Sentet. The greatest and worst of the Cardinales. If you attempt to face it in your condition, Sentet will destroy you."

  "I mus
t," said Lupin, ignoring the hollow rasp of his voice. "I know what they did to you."

  Katerina's expression became fearful and dark.

  "It was they who cursed your body away and trapped you."

  She said nothing. He touched his fingers to the crystal and pressed gently.

  "Every day, while you slept, I have hunted them. I learned their ways. I devised secret tricks to defeat them. All because I-"

  "Lupin, speak no more." Tears gleamed in her closed eyes, tiny diamonds cascading into nothingness. "Don't say what you may soon-"

  "Regret?"

  Gilooly's voice rumbled like dropped hammers. Lupin fell back as a shadow sprawled across him. Gilooly filled the doorway, red-faced and scowling, wearing clothes sopping with sweat.

  Lupin's heart rattled like a snare drum chasing a punchline. He rose, hoping his rabbit-face showed no pain. "Gilooly, hmm? That name is altogether too florid. Sentet suits you better."

  Sentet sneered. "Names are meaningless. Only decisions and deeds matter." Its face shed its human features, becoming flat and red and sly. "You are summoned. Therefore decide and act."

  Lupin's fingers slipped into hidden pockets, closing around his arsenal of cards and coins and a brave, quivering dove. "Your summons was a transparent ruse, Sentet."

  "You were set upon this path years ago, Lupin." Sentet's shadowed eyes narrowed in unpleasant delight, fixed upon Katerina Phasmagora. "A wish granted. A curse laid. A rival debased."

  Seeing the shock of dismay on Lupin's face, Katerina cried in remorse. "It's true, Lupin. I called the Cardinales to curse your head."

  Lupin worked his weapons-of-the-trade into position as he bared his great bucked teeth. "But why?"

  "My audience called me the second greatest illusionist of all time, Lupin. In my vanity I could not bear the comparison."

  "So you made a compact with these creatures?"

  "It tasted wonderful to make the great Lupin look a fool," sighed Sentet, licking thin lips with its spiked tongue. "But we dined on richer fare at that banquet, did we not, Mistress? In your haste, you did not bargain well."

  Lupin's voice was black with anger. "They took you to pieces?"

  Katerina's head shuddered. "They consumed me. I became nothing."

  Sentet lifted the crystal decanter and favoured it with a smug pat. "We left you with all you would need for repentance."

  "Katerina need repent nothing to you." A coin danced across Lupin's knuckles, rolling end over end like tumbleweed. All at once, it vanished. At the same moment, a scarf disappeared from Sentet's ensemble.

  "What are you doing?"

  Lupin produced a hand of cards, five Hearts of assorted values. These too vanished in a flourish. So did Sentet's coat and remaining scarves. As the clothing layers dispersed, feminine curves emerged.

  "They did not consume your body, Mistress Phasmagora," declared Lupin. The dove rose into the air and burst into flames. Sentet's waistcoats, vests and undershirts became smoke. Sentet stood exposed, its little red head atop a pale female body clad in a shimmering emerald evening dress. "They stole it."

  Sentet snarled. "Our bargain was fair, Lupin. Do not pity her. But think – we have not yet made a bargain with you."

  Lupin's fur was matted with sweat. His head felt too heavy for his neck. "What do you offer?"

  "Surrender your rival to me and I will return what I took from you."

  Sentet's benevolent smile blurred and its features changed. Lupin stared at his own lost face atop Katerina's shoulders.

  "A head for a head, Lupin."

  Katerina's decanter spun about. She turned a determined face to Lupin. "Do it, Castro. Please. You did not deserve my enmity. Let me make amends."

  But Castro Lupin said, "I cannot, Katerina, for the cost is not only your head but also my heart." With trembling fingers he removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "I have always loved you."

  He flipped the hat into the air like a coin. It came to rest upon Lupin's stolen head, a perfect fit. Sentet sneered. Then the hat's brim widened like a hungry mouth and it dropped down to perch on Katerina's shoulders. Sentet made one muffled, angry sound, then the hat fell away.

  Lupin's first head was gone forever. Katerina's body remained, its posture relaxed.

  "Hey presto," said Lupin, restoring the hat comfortably between his ears. He placed the crystal decanter of Katerina Phasmagora's head in her own hands. "We shall have you whole again in no time."

  Her smile was uncertain but happy. "I suppose this concludes our investigating career?"

  Lupin sniffed and waved a bloodied hand. "We are two unemployed illusionists in possession of an empty theatre. Would you care to start over, my love?"

  "Yes, darling. Partners."

  Hand in hand, they returned to the unlit stage, where the shadows obscured both their heads.

  'Mr Lupin's Hat Trick' was written for an anthology of weird fables inspired by a gallery of art pieces. The picture I chose depicts a rabbit-headed man in a tuxedo, a woman's head encased in crystal and several spooky demonic figures, just as they appear in the story. (The story was not selected for the anthology).

  In my high school years, I spent a lot of time backstage at the Townsville Civic Theatre, both as a stage hand and as a (very average) performer. It was undoubtedly one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. It would have taken the smallest of pushes for me to become a theatre nerd for life. That never happened, but since I began writing in earnest, spooky old theatres show up in my work a lot.

  The Census Taker's Quandary

  Once, there was a King who called forth his census taker.

  "My kingdom is unsurpassed in peace and prosperity," he observed, "yet from every corner I hear grumbling. As their King, I must know the mind of my subjects. Find the discontented and have them speak to their dismay."

  The canny census taker bowed respectfully in the face of this false command. She knew the King wished to know the names of dissenters, that he might banish them or lock them up. She went to her task with a vexed heart. The census taker held her profession in noble esteem, and she could not bear to compromise her work; but nor did she wish to be an instrument of the King's malice.

  She came to the first home, where lived a woman and her husbands, and she asked them the King's question: "Why are you not happy subjects of his majesty the King?"

  The woman and her husbands pointed to the rutted road and the crumbling telephone wires and said, "The King's taxmen take much of what we earn and spend too little of it in keeping things in good working order."

  The census taker frowned, for such an answer, however truthful, begged for a public whipping or a week in the stocks. She marked her census with their names and a note: "The subjects praised the efficient workings of government and the King's steady hand on the economic tiller."

  She hurried to the next house, where a group of young men with long faces greeted her. When she asked the king's question, the men looked distraught. They said, "The King's marshal has sent us all letters of conscription. We are to don armour and spears and patrol the borders. If we see the neighbours with whom the King squabbles, we are to kill them and steal their belongings."

  The census taker frowned, for the penalty for insubordination might be a soldier's hand or eye. She took their names and recorded thus: "The subject praised his majesty's successes in keeping unemployment and immigration low."

  Finally she came to a third house, where two women who were not sisters nursed babies and sold drinks made from sugared lemons. When she asked the King's question, they said, "The King's fine schools are open only to the sons of fathers, and we spit on the King for leaving not a crumb for these daughters of ours."

  And the census taker wept, for she knew the King would not suffer such an accusation of injustice. She could see no way to hide the grievous disparagement, and so she set down her ledger and was a census taker no more.

  She took up a chalk and board. She taught the daughters and mothers how
to take a census. And one by one her students went forth and asked questions of their own devising.

  Little by little, the mood of the people was revealed to all. They begged the teacher to carry their discontent to the King, but by then he had fled his throne.

  This story could be about anything. Let's just say that, as a long-serving public official, I have strong opinions about the value of procedural fairness, accountable government, and a well-educated public.

  'The Census Taker's Quandary' was first published in August 2017 as a Friday Flash Fiction post at DavidVersace.com.

  Seven Excerpts from Season One

  I open my editing software and start pulling video files down from the libraries. Jan has just left with the rough cut of the final episode. Whatever she thinks, the review panel will refuse to grade us after what happened. I don't care. That's not what I'm working on now. Anyone can look online to see what we did. I'm more interested in why we did it.

  #

  Excerpt from Episode One: 'Pilot'

  "My name is Jan Parry and I want to welcome you to the Wattle Park Spook Hunters Club."

  Jan is in her element right out of the gate. Straight teeth, bright eyes, hair blown into waves and then tied back into an oh-so-casual ponytail. We recorded this in her living room straight after school, the first week of semester. In a way, I'm glad she insisted on hosting. The ambient lighting was more conducive to filming than anywhere outside a studio. This episode looked great.

  The frame stays tight on Jan for her introduction. Her teeth claim the screen as their own. "My friends and I are Year 10 students at Wattle Park High School in Ashburnham, Victoria. For our core Media Studies project, we're making this web series to explore our town's rich and varied history, which is steeped in supernatural bloodshed."