Ice and cages rushed past beneath me. The Tower of Thorns grew closer and closer. Rising around its base, I could see mist the color of dead flesh. A strong desire to sully innocence possessed me, and I began to imagine, in vivid detail, ways I could desecrate my own purity. Killing my father would be the easiest, of course, a quick plunge into the world of sin, and my soul would never be clean again. All I need do was play my flute.
Panic seized me, and I gasped for breath, hyperventilating. I could not return to that tower! I could not bear it! I would rather die. I struggled, trying to tear myself free. The crab claw slithered against my enchanted gown as I writhed.
Despairing, I prayed.
“Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” The words echoed in my thoughts almost as if someone had spoken them. I knew they were from the Bible, but I did not recall their significance. My captor dived, drawing nearer to the tower, and I accidentally glanced at the thorns. As I screamed, blood running down my cheeks, I remembered what it was that beareth all things and endureth all things.
Charity.
King Vinae had not meant charity as modern men used the word. Vinae was referring to its older meaning: love.
My next idea was crazy, but I did not have time for reason and forethought.
“Seir!” I recalled from the séance on the sailboat—how long ago that seemed now—that just calling his name was enough to summon him. “Seir! Help me!”
After I cried out, I felt quite foolish. Trusting an incubus because of a stray comment made in a dream was ridiculous. If he did come, he would certainly carry me off to some infernal love nest. Yet, even that would be preferable to the Tower of Thorns!
Yet, lo and behold, he came.
He appeared beneath me, emerging in the shadow the creature and I cast, and entwined his arms about me, his blood-red eyes gazing into mine. Immediately, a heady sensation swept over me, as if I had downed a glass of strong wine too quickly—but at least this giddy passion drowned out the more depraved desires emanating from the tower.
“Good, My Sweet,” he whispered. “You have called me at last! Now, we can be together forever, our bodies entwined in sensuous love.”
“Not unless you get rid of that!” I glanced upward, grimacing, for one leg still gripped my hair painfully.
“Ah. Easy enough.”
Seir vanished, appearing beneath the creature. Clinging to its many legs, he began to remove its talons from my body. The winged monstrosity screeched and began pecking at him with its razor-sharp vulture beak. A fight ensued, most of the details of which I could not see as they took place behind me.
More creatures came, smaller ones that dived at Seir. Drops of red blood and black demon ichor splattered over me. Then there was a hoarse screech and a scream, and I was falling.
I waited for Seir to catch me.
He did not.
I struck the ice headfirst.
* * *
I CAME to in a blur of pain. Mab was standing over me, brandishing his trusty lead pipe, which ran black with ichor. Bits of claws and leathery wings from some of the smaller creatures were scattered upon the snow to either side.
“Head wounds are becoming a habit,” I whispered, lying back with blood running into my eyes.
“Hold on, Ma’am. Help is coming.” Mab crouched down beside me. He looked so concerned, so tenderly worried, that tears came to my eyes.
“Is it true?” I coughed through a red haze.
“Is what true?”
“Caurus says the Aerie Ones love me.”
Mab’s stony face broke into a lopsided grin. “Caurus talks entirely too much, Ma’am. Now, you rest until your brothers get here.” He brushed the matted hair from my brow and planted a solemn kiss upon my forehead.
As he turned away, he paused suddenly and, pulling something from his pocket, pressed it into my hand. “You dropped this, Ma’am, back when we were hiking across the glacier. I picked it up for you.”
It was my little wooden figurine of Astreus Stormwind.
* * *
MY family came around me. Titus lifted me gently and carried me like a baby. While my other brothers defended us, using their staffs like clubs, Theo rifled through my shoulder bag and gave me a tiny drop of Water from my crystal vial. Some of the pain went away and I knew now that I would live. One drop was not enough to bring me back to full consciousness, however, which scared me. Blearily, I realized my head wound must have been very bad indeed.
We traveled for a time. I passed in and out of consciousness. I remembered seeing Caliban swat creatures from the sky as if they were softballs, and a brilliant white explosion that could only have been Theo’s staff. Even Logistilla insisted on getting in on the action, impaling a flying thing with the pointy bottom of her staff.
This was the last thing I remembered that made sense. After that, things became stranger. I ran along the black-and-white glacier that soon became pages of musical notation. This enormous scroll of sheet music reached up into the sky, curling above a range of sleeping mountains. The faster I went, however, the slower I moved, until I was practically motionless, arms and legs barely able to respond to my instructions. The path of notes beneath me slid sideways, and I fell into a darkness filled with hungry eyes and cruel shiny teeth. They moved in toward me, fangs chomping rhythmically. I wanted to run, but the desire to be devoured, to be torn limb from limb for no useful purpose, oppressed me. Expending immense effort of will, I dashed away through clouds of weeping color. The ravenous things gave chase.
In the gloom ahead of me shone two tiny golden moons. As I approached, the darkness coalesced about them, forming a feline shape. It came forward and rubbed against my leg.
“You have wandered too far, Mistress,” purred a familiar voice. “Come. I will lead you back to your body.”
Tybalt, Prince of Cats, led me through strange delusions I could not later clearly recall. We pressed on, together, undaunted by the bizarreness. Eventually, we found our way back to more peaceful dreaming.
“This is what familiars are for.” The black cat’s eyes glittered in the darkness. As I fell into a dreamless slumber, I heard a soft feline voice murmur, “Fetch a cup of tea, indeed!”
* * *
WAKING, I found myself lying in one of the sleeping bags Mephisto’s hoodlums had given us. Our attackers were nowhere to be seen. My brethren were arguing over how much Water of Life to spend on me. Finally, they decided to give me one additional drop, bind my head, and see how I was in the morning, as the rest of them were too tired to push on anyway. If I could not travel by they time they awoke, they concluded, they would have to give me still more Water.
The others left, except for Erasmus and Theo. I knew it was them from the sound of their voices, but I still could not open my eyes. I could hear Erasmus packing away the first-aid kit.
Theo spoke in his rich tenor, asking, “How soon can we move her?”
“We could move her now,” Erasmus grunted. It sounded as if he was struggling with something. “But I think it better to wait. Most of the others have fallen asleep. While it is true that we should get out of Hell as soon as possible, I think the chances of at least a few of us making it out alive go up if we are rested and alert. Besides…”
“Besides what…?”
“I just had a thought in regard to Father’s situation. It probably would not work, but … I need some time to think about it.”
“You think there might be something we could do to help Father?” Theo’s voice trembled with hope.
“Maybe. As I said, I need some time to think it through … to see if we brought what we would need.” There was a rustle that sounded like Erasmus fastening his bag and standing up. “She looks so beautiful when she’s asleep.” Erasmus sounded wistful. “Like an angel.”
“She always looks like an angel to me,” Theo replied.
“I have hated her for so long.” Erasmus’s voice was low. “Loathed her and despised h
er, and now I’m beginning to think it was all in my mind, that I ascribed to her terrible motivations she never had, that the person I hated does not even exist. Who is this Miranda? She does not seem to be the sniveling conniving witch I took her for.”
“Do you think it was all Uncle Antonio’s doing?” asked Theo.
“No. I thought badly of her even back when he was alive. He just took advantage of the antipathy I already felt. When I was young, I disliked her because Mother did. Then, after Uncle Antonio admitted to murdering Ferdinand, I just assumed that everything else she said was a lie, too. Just goes to show the damage one little lie can do.”
“Mother was jealous.”
“Of Miranda’s beauty?” Erasmus asked. “Well, I can’t blame her for that. If our dear sister had not been spellbound into making herself scarce, she would have been a heartbreaker. Mother had a knack for sniffing out potential threats.”
Theo snorted. “Not of her beauty, of her place in Father’s affection. Mother wanted to rule Father. When she could not, she blamed Miranda, whom she could tell was involved with the portion of Father’s life over which she could not gain control. But what Mother did not understand was that it was not Miranda who was her rival, but Father’s books, his studies. As caught up as she was in politics and power, Mother could not fathom the lure of knowledge.”
The men were silent for a time.
“You love her, don’t you?” Erasmus said presently.
“Of course. She’s my sister!”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” Erasmus scoffed. “You’ve always loved her. Ever since we were children.” He paused. “You could marry her, you know. If nothing else, Titus and Logistilla have proven that. She’s going to need someone to look after her.”
Theo knelt down. I felt him stroke my cheek.
“I do love her,” he said presently, “but not in the way you think. I love her as a knight loves his liege lord’s lady—a true knight, not some traitor like Lancelot. I may love her more than brothers ordinarily love their sisters, but it is a pure, exalted, chaste love; a longing to serve and protect. I do not love her the way I have loved my wives.”
“Pure and chaste?” Erasmus mocked. “You’ve never once wanted to clasp her to your chest, or kiss her ruby lips?”
“It’s not like that,” Theo insisted. He sounded flustered. I could picture him blushing.
“If you say so,” Erasmus replied lightly.
Theo shifted his weight. I guessed that he had just stood up. “What about you? You could marry her.”
“Me?” Erasmus exclaimed in abject horror.
“Titus and Logistilla got married,” Theo said lightly, “and the two of you have much in common. You’re both intellectuals. You love books. If you pooled your resources, shared the arcane tomes Father has parceled out to each of you, you’d have quite a library.”
“Tempting as that may be,” Erasmus’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “I will remind you that I have hated her my whole life, and she despises me.”
“She only dislikes you because you are cruel to her.” Theo paused. “Don’t you think you might be able to put that behind you now?”
“Perhaps…” Erasmus mused. There was a pause as if he were thinking. “Perhaps. But only in a normal, brotherly sort of way.”
“You’d make a fine couple,” Theo insisted. I could detect a slight tension in his voice that I knew, from years of experience, indicated suppressed humor. “Don’t you want someone to bring you your slippers while you read your magic books?”
“Come now. Our dear sister is hardly the slipper-bringing type!” Erasmus’s voice sparked with indignation.
“Admit it, Erasmus”—Theo’s voice became grave—“you’ve always been jealous of her affection for me.”
“I beg your pardon!” Erasmus exclaimed, outraged. “I admit, if she were not my sister, I might have pursued her. Who wouldn’t? She’s exquisite! But that is hardly the basis for a happy marriage! Besides, she is my sister. One just doesn’t think that way about one’s sister!”
I heard an odd muffled sound. Was someone choking? I struggled to rise, to wake, but could not shake the lethargy that lay upon me like a heavy blanket.
“You’re mocking me!” Erasmus barked, astonished, as Theo’s muffled snorts dissolved into full-blown laughter.
“Do you think I’d let her settle for the likes of you?” Theo chortled. “After centuries of being ribbed about this by you all, I figured it was time for you to have a taste of your own cooking—to see how unpalatable it is. Maybe we can put the whole sordid subject behind us for good now.” There was another robust burst of laughter. “But, oh, the look on your face!”
Erasmus snorted in disgust and then chuckled himself. Suddenly, he stopped. “I pray to God Miranda’s actually unconscious! If she’s overheard us … Dear Lord!”
As my brothers departed, Erasmus murmured something about going to check to see what supplies we had on hand. They sent Mab to stand guard over me. As Theo’s laughter trailed off into the distance, I lay there, unable to speak or rise, and contemplated what I had just chanced to overhear. I had known for centuries of Theo’s affection for me. His adoration shone clearly in his eyes each time he rode back from a war and presented me with some token of his bravery. Our brothers often teased him about this, accusing him of harboring unholy desires for me, but I had never heard Theo speak of what was truly in his heart. His revelation relieved and delighted me. While I loved him greatly, it was a sisterly love. It was a joy to discover his heart mirrored mine.
Erasmus’s outrage and his chagrin at the thought of my having overheard them amused me, even if I found the whole subject rather appalling. But the best part was that Theo was teasing Erasmus. This meant that the two of them were talking easily to one another again. They had always been close. I would have felt terrible if the matter in Dis had come permanently between them.
Wonderful as it was to have us all working together again, my heart ached at the thought that Father was not to appreciate it.
And Erasmus was wrong, I thought as I drifted off again, I was perfectly good at fetching slippers. I had been doing it for Father for centuries.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Thy Mother Was a Piece of Virtue
I dreamt I danced with a man made of shadow, his black opera cape billowing about us in time to the music. In my dream, he kissed me and apologized for losing me. In the way of dreams, I knew he was wounded, though no wounds were visible.
The dream changed, and I danced with Ferdinand before the hearth in Prospero’s Mansion. Then, it changed again, and I danced with Astreus in a glade of ferns. Astreus pulled away and gazed about him, frowning.
“I thought I was dead.”
“You are,” I answered sadly. “This is your ghost.”
“Nay.” Astreus’s eyes were the somber purple of a late evening sky. “So, Seir has called me up, has he? More the fool! He may not find me so easy to put down again.” He looked at me, as if only now noticing that I was present. “To what purpose did he call me? To dally with you?”
“To beguile me,” I replied firmly, pushing him away. “To confound and confuse me. But I am not fooled, Seir of the Shadows. You may take any guise you please; I shall not trust you again!”
“Indeed.” Astreus’s eyes sparkled a merry green. “A wise course for a mortal maid: to never leave yourself unguarded, never offer your heart. And you shall reap the harvest you sow. You shall go to your grave, safe and unmourned, finding eternal repose beneath the epitaph: ‘She trusted no one.’ Oh, how wise the daughter of Prospero; how wise and how alone.”
* * *
I AWOKE to find my family preparing to cast a spell. Pentagrams and triangles had been drawn into the snow. All our staffs had been thrown into a pile; they had even taken my flute. Mephisto still wore his handcuffs, but the part that had held his staff now dangled, empty. The only person still who had not been disarmed was Caliban, who sat
with his club leaning against his knees.
Mab stood guard over me; a smile of delight crossed his craggy face when he saw I was awake. I rose gingerly and found that, though my head was sore, I could see clearly again.
“Glad to see you up and about!” Theo leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Offering me his hand, he helped me to my feet.
Logistilla was addressing the others, waving her arms about in great gesticulations. “We’ll never make it. The Hellwinds will get us again, and again, and again, until we all die and are tortured here for real.”
“Not to worry, we have a solution to the Hellwinds…” Erasmus called, from where he was putting the finishing touches on one of the summoning triangles. Then, he paused, raising a finger. “Oh, wait … requires use of the Staff of Darkness. No. You’re right, Sister. We’re doomed.”
“So, what have you all done while I slept?” I asked, as I shook out my hair and took a stab at straightening it with a comb from my bag.
Mab was chomping on a carrot. “Prepared the Professor’s spell to save your Father.”
“Save Father?” I cried out, my forgotten comb flying from my hands. Ulysses politely fetched it for me. “We’ve found a way?”
“Erasmus says he has,” Logistilla replied, “but he won’t tell the rest of us what it is.”
Mab scratched his eternal stubble. “Just in case this spell doesn’t work, Ma’am. I think you should know that I investigated the matter of how Lilith managed to set up that trap for your Father. Turns out the Perp gave them the hairs.”
“In my defense,” Ulysses said, sitting down beside me on one of the outstretched sleeping bags. “They were going to kill me if I didn’t. It was an easy matter to get the hairs. I came by, visited each sibling, touched the ground, teleported back in the dark of the night, and stole a few from a brush in the bathroom. Theo, Erasmus, and Cornelius were the most difficult. Being familiar with magic, they guarded themselves, but eventually I outwitted … I worked it out.”
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