Eddie

by Scott Gustafson

  “It’s all right,” Eddie said. “I understand.”

  “But you were probably punished,” Mephisto said, raising his head.

  “Not yet,” said Eddie. “But don’t worry. Whatever it is, it will be nothing compared to you losing the roof over your head and damaging your career.”

  “Thank you, Edgar,” said Mephisto, “but as things have turned out, I won’t be needing the room beyond tonight anyway. I’m catching the five o’clock stagecoach tomorrow morning. So, perhaps if I spoke to the judge and Mr. Allan, we could get this all cleared up.”

  “Please, Captain,” Eddie said. “You needn’t worry.”

  “Perhaps if I had some money that you could give to the judge,” the magician continued, “then maybe he could buy a new rooster. Unfortunately, I’m a little short right now, what with just paying the rent and not getting paid for this engagement. But I could send something once I reach my next booking.”

  “Captain,” Eddie said with resolve, “I am the one who owes you. You befriended my dying mother years ago by helping to pay my family’s debts. Please let me handle this minor situation.”

  Mephisto smiled. “Edgar, your mother would be very proud of you.” Then he opened the suitcase, and Dante climbed inside. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do?”

  Eddie smiled. “There is one thing, sir. Would you give me the honor of allowing me to walk the Great Captain Mephisto to his boardinghouse?”

  “Young man,” Mephisto said proudly, “the honor would be all mine.”

  Just as Eddie and Mephisto were about to leave the theater, the captain thought he may have forgotten something. “You go ahead, my boy. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.”

  The moment Eddie stepped out of the stage door, the raven flew to him. Breathless with anticipation, he had waited through the entire evening and had grown more and more restless as first the theatergoers and then the actors had left the building. When finally the manager had burst out of the same door, running for his life, the poor bird had been beside himself with worry.

  “Where the devil—” he blurted, landing on Eddie’s shoulder. Then he immediately stopped talking, upon hearing Mephisto open the door behind them.

  “I must be getting old. I was sure I’d left my boardinghouse key in the dressing room, but there it was in my pocket. Well!” He smiled, a bit surprised to see a large black bird peering at him from Eddie’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you had a friend of your own. What a beautiful bird! It is yours, I take it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Eddie said proudly. “He is my friend, but I can’t say I think of him as belonging to me necessarily. He pretty much comes and goes as he pleases.”

  The raven cawed, and Eddie scratched the bird’s head. “Sorry, old friend. I nearly forgot that I had left you out here.” The bird closed his eyes and lowered his head in rapture. “Everything is all right now,” Eddie said softly.

  “Are you going to introduce me?” Mephisto asked, smiling.

  “Forgive me,” Eddie said. “I must be forgetting my manners. Raven, I would like you to meet my new friend, Captain Mephisto. Captain Mephisto, this is Raven.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, friend Raven.” Mephisto reached out to touch the bird’s head. Raven cocked his head, eying the man suspiciously.

  “Sorry,” Eddie apologized. “It sometimes takes a little while with him.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Mephisto said. “One can never be too careful these days.”

  Eddie offered to carry the suitcase as they walked the dark, quiet streets back toward the boardinghouse and his home. Mephisto reminisced about happier times, when the Poes had been a young married couple and they’d had all the world before them. Eddie felt as though he had discovered a long lost uncle who had truly known and understood his parents.

  The boy openly showed his excitement at hearing these remembrances, and hung on every word. Listening to Mephisto’s stories made these shadowy figures from his past more solid—more real.

  Just as the man was finishing a tale, and the boy was laughing, the raven flew from one to the other. Landing on Mephisto’s shoulder, the raven lowered his head as if to say, You may scratch me now.

  “Well,” said Mephisto, “what’s this?”

  “It appears,” Eddie said, “that you have made yet another friend tonight.”

  “My dear Edgar.” Mephisto spoke using his stage voice. “I have had the pleasure of traveling the world over and playing before the crowned heads of Europe, but never, no never, have I ever been more honored.” He reached up and scratched the raven’s head. The bird closed his eyes and purred a raven-y kind of purr.

  “Oh, brother,” McCobber grumbled.

  As their footsteps fell on rutted streets and cobblestones, their conversation journeyed to ever broadening horizons: Mephisto’s voyages and adventures, and Eddie’s love of books and poetry.

  “Edgar, I’d like to ask your opinion about something,” Mephisto said as they turned onto their street. “You are obviously a person of discerning tastes, with more than his share of the theater in his blood, so yours is an opinion I would value.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eddie felt pleased.

  “It’s about the act,” Mephisto continued. “I’m always trying to improve it, and I wondered if you saw any way we could make it better.”

  “Well . . .” Eddie felt the pleasure of the honor take on the weight of responsibility. “Well, I know this is going to sound silly, but I somehow got it into my head that you had a real demon helping you out. That it wasn’t the cloth that produced the magic but a demon hidden behind it.”

  “Yes.” Mephisto was suddenly interested. “Go on.”

  “Well,” Eddie continued, “that made it all seem less like a magician’s trick, less like you were simply pulling coins out of a cloth. The notion that you were enlisting the help of a demon to produce those objects gave the act a slightly dangerous and otherworldly edge. And then, backstage, the image of those little hands bursting out of your chest. It was as if all my worst fears had come true, and the demon had gotten out of control. The horror of it was fantastic!”

  “Yes,” Mephisto laughed. “I know I’ll never forget the effect Dante’s appearance had at that moment. So you think having a demon helper is more mysterious than an enchanted cloth?”

  “Maybe not more mysterious,” Eddie said, “but creepier, for sure.”

  “I’ll remember that,” McCobber spat.

  Mephisto was intrigued. “So you think that if I imply that there is a demon at work, and perhaps show hints of its existence, that might make for a better show?”

  “Exactly!” Eddie said. “It was the idea that it was hidden. Something we weren’t supposed to see. Something frightening. And then to hear that scream and see those grasping hands—it sent my senses reeling. But the moment I knew it was really a monkey, the excitement was over. What had been unbelievably horrifying was suddenly funny.”

  “Yes, that is always the challenge,” the magician said, “to show just enough to excite the imagination, yet not enough to expose the trick. Ah, but how is the big question.”

  “What if Dante wore a disguise?” Eddie asked. “Something like a costume or makeup, so that from the audience, even if they caught a glimpse of him, he would appear to be a devil or a demon?”

  “Hmmm,” Mephisto replied. “Maybe that would work. . . . Perhaps a mask or horns, something like that?”

  “Yes.” That gave Eddie an idea. “You know, we have this old set of puppets up in our attic, and one of them is a devil. I bet with a little work it could be adapted into a costume for Dante. It’s just about his size. You can have it, if you’d like.”

  “Why, thank you, Edgar,” said Mephisto. “That does sound like the perfect thing. But I couldn’t take part of someone’s collection.”

  “My uncle Galt didn’t want them anymore,” Eddie said. “He told me if I didn’t want them, he was going to throw them away. You might as well put th
at one to good use.”

  “Well, in that case . . . ,” Mephisto said. They had reached the sidewalk in front of Murphy’s boardinghouse.

  “Great,” said Eddie excitedly. “I’ll just cut through the lots, sneak up the stairs, and be right back.”

  “Edgar, you know it’s late,” Mephisto whispered, “and you’re probably going to be in trouble for staying out late as it is. Maybe this should wait.”

  “Aren’t you leaving at five in the morning?” Eddie asked.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, I’d better do it now, then.” Eddie started to go.

  “What if I send Dante with you?” Mephisto suggested. “He could climb down using the tree in your backyard. That way you would only have to sneak in once. It might reduce the risk of you getting caught.”

  “Good idea,” Eddie agreed.

  They walked quietly to the back of Murphy’s house and stood in the shadows. From there Eddie was within easy distance of his back door, and Mephisto would have a clear view of the attic window.

  The magician asked Eddie to set the suitcase down, and within seconds the monkey was perched up on his shoulder. The raven cocked his head inquisitively. Mephisto pulled a cloth bag from his pocket and handed it to Eddie.

  “Put the puppet in here,” Mephisto said. “It will be easier for him to carry. And as for you, Mr. Dante.” Mephisto addressed the monkey. “You listen to Edgar and come directly back here to me when he tells you to.” The monkey looked thoughtful, then started picking his nose.

  “Well,” Mephisto said, extending his hand, “I guess we should say good-bye now. Edgar Poe, it has been my extreme pleasure to meet you, and your raven.”

  Eddie felt a twinge of loss as they warmly shook hands. He didn’t know when, or if, their paths would ever cross again. He wouldn’t have been able to imagine that he would meet someone who could, with such sincere affection, bring the memory of his parents so magically back to life. In this, if nothing else, the man who stood before him now was truly a worker of miracles.

  “And we will never forget the Great Mephisto!” These were the only words Eddie could find. That is, until Dante interjected a typically simian “Ooh, ooh, ooh.”

  “Or his demon,” Eddie added with a smile, and the two friends laughed.

  As the monkey leapt onto Eddie’s shoulder, the raven flew to a nearby tree. Before Eddie turned to go, a final nod of mutual friendship passed between the old gentleman and the boy. Within a few minutes Eddie had made it through the moonlight-spattered lawns and up to the back door. He eased open the squeaky screen door and was soon on his way up the back stairs.

  By the time he opened the trapdoor to the attic, he was breathless. It was only then that he realized he had come up three flights of stairs without taking a single breath. Up here he could light a candle without worry, and he quickly did so. The puppet still hung from the rafters just where he had left it. The papier-mâché head was cracked up the back, and it separated easily from the empty cloth body.

  Eddie placed the puppet’s head on his own. “See, Dante, you can wear this like a hat.” He then gave it to the monkey.

  Dante imitated Eddie, but because his head was much smaller than the boy’s, the puppet’s head completely covered his own. The monkey’s face disappeared inside the papier-mâché devil’s.

  Dante had been standing on the table, and he began to lift his arms, slightly swaying to and fro in a little dance. As he danced before it, the light of the lamp cast his eerie shadow onto the attic beams. The effect was frightening and amusing at the same time.

  “Very good, Dante,” Eddie said. “Very good. What do you think, McCobber?”

  “Not bad for a monkey,” the imp said grudgingly. “He almost looks human.”

  “All right, Dante,” Eddie said, removing the mask. “We’d better send you on your way.” He opened the cloth sack Mephisto had given him, and paused. “This time it’s my turn to fill the bag.” He smiled as he placed the puppet’s head and body within and drew the string. Then he placed the string over the monkey’s head so the bag hung across his back like a little backpack. “Now you can use both hands to climb with.”

  Eddie opened the window. “Okay, Dante, take that back down there to Captain Mephisto.” He pointed to the silhouette that waited across the yard. “And please don’t get into any trouble.”

  The monkey started to climb out onto the sill, then suddenly turned around. Taking Eddie’s finger in his hand, he gently shook it. The boy laughed.

  “Well, look at the little goody-goody!” McCobber growled.

  In an instant Dante had gone out the window, scampered to the edge of the roof, and leapt to a nearby tree limb. Moments later the dark figure on the lawn was joined by a smaller silhouette. Mephisto looked up and waved. Eddie waved back, and in another moment the man and monkey had disappeared into the shadows.

  Eddie stood for a moment, wondering if everything that had happened during the last twenty-four hours was real, or McCobber-inspired. A loud flutter announced the raven’s arrival on the windowsill.

  “So that little devil’s our demon, ay?” he asked.

  “Now, don’t go lettin’ your imagination run away with you, Raven,” McCobber said. “That thing only wishes it were a demon!”

  “Well, he sure had us going.” Eddie yawned. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready to hit the hay.”

  They said their good-nights and Eddie stealthily made his way downstairs. Safe inside his room, he closed the door and by the light of the moon struck a match. As he lit the candle, he became aware of a presence in the room.

  “So, you’ve finally come back, have you?” At the sound of John Allan’s voice, Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “JEEZ-LOWEEZ!” McCobber shouted into Eddie’s ear.

  “Good grief!” cried Eddie. “What are you doing here?”

  “I assume you have a good explanation for being out all night!” Allan left the chair where he had been seated, and stepped into the light.

  “Uh—I—” Eddie stammered. “I was carrying out my investigation.”

  “And . . .” Allan’s stare bore down on him.

  “And,” Eddie answered, clearing his throat, “I am still innocent.”

  “And your proof?” Allan asked, unfazed.

  “Nothing you would accept,” Eddie answered with a note of pride in his voice.

  “You’re right,” Allan replied with disdain. “Nothing I would accept.” There was a long pause, and then, “I suppose you know what this means.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eddie knew.

  “We will deal with it in the morning.” Allan turned to leave, then added, “Sleep well, Edgar.”

  “Good night, sir,” Eddie replied.

  “What a jerk,” McCobber spat as Eddie changed into his nightshirt.

  “It would have been nice to prove him wrong to his face,” Eddie said, climbing into bed. “But tonight, somehow, what he thinks of me doesn’t seem to matter that much.” He leaned over and blew out the candle.

  To his surprise, Eddie slept soundly that night; even his imagination and McCobber must have been tired, for not even a dream disturbed his slumber. Then, almost as if someone or something had poked him in the stomach, he was awake. It was still black outside, but there was something going on. A voice was calling to him from the yard.

  As he opened the window, the voice filled the room. Eddie rubbed his eyes, wondering if he were dreaming, for there, near Judge Washington’s poultry yard, stood a figure holding a lantern. At his feet rested a familiar suitcase.

  “Could that be who I think it is?” Eddie wondered aloud.

  “My name is Mephisto,” the figure spoke, directing his voice to the surrounding houses. “I am a necromancer, and I am here to make amends!” Chickens clucked and fluttered as lamps were lit and windows were slid open. “You see before you a haunted man.”

  Eddie heard a window open and saw John Allan thrust his wondering head into the nig
ht. Moments later the judge leaned out his upstairs window, cursing.

  And across the lot the distinctive silhouette of Mrs. Murphy stood in her kitchen doorway.

  “Yes,” Mephisto continued, “haunted in more ways than one. For yesterday at this exact time and in this same place, an innocent party was blamed for my negligence. I speak of course of the cat and rooster incident and the boy who appeared to have performed the cruel prank. Well, I am here now to explain my involvement in this unfortunate matter and to once and for all clear his good name!”

  Even in the darkness Eddie could feel the eyes of all assembled upon him, and he couldn’t help but shrink away a bit from the window at which he stood.

  “Throughout the years my studies of the magical arts have taken me to the farthest corners of the known world and into the realm of the unknown. I was privileged to be the student of an ancient mage who not only taught me all he knew, but also gave me a wonderful, and at times frightening, gift. He bequeathed to me a demon, or an imp, as it were. A small devil who was bound to me by certain oaths and incantations. Bound to be my servant and helper, and to travel with me in secret wherever I go.” As he gestured to the suitcase at his feet, a low growl rose from within.

  A gasp of realization issued from Mrs. Murphy, immediately followed by the cry of the boy who stood next to her in the boardinghouse kitchen. “I knew,” he cried. “I just knew it!”

  “Unfortunately,” Mephisto continued, “it has on rare occasions managed to escape from my control and scamper about unchecked. Sadly, last night was just one of those occasions. For while I lay asleep, in a state of mental exhaustion, the demon managed to wriggle free of its magical bonds, and in no time was up to its impish antics—right here, beneath your very windows.”