Read Online Prospero in Hell by L. Jagi Lamplighter - Free Book Online Page A

the Baleful Eye mentioned?’ ”
    Mab scribbled it down. “Oh, and I forgot, Number Eleven: ‘How do we track down the teleporting perp?’ Er, beg your pardon, Ma’am, I mean ‘track down Mr. Ulysses.’
    “As to the rest of the questions, Ma’am, I’ve got some leads. My peopleare following up a couple of things as well, but…” Mab chewed on the back of his shiny pen. “Um… there’s something else, Ma’am. Something I’m reluctant to talk about, but think you’d better know.”
    “Yes? What is that?”
    “It’s about Lord Astreus, Ma’am.”
    “Oh?”
    A cold draft was blowing against the back of my neck. It had probably been there for some time, but, caught up in reading the
Book of the Sibyl,
I had not noticed. Now, I found myself shivering. I unfolded an afghan that had been thrown over the back of my chair and arranged it around my shoulders. A faint pleasant scent of lanolin clung to the creamy yarn.
    “I thought you should know about the conversation I overheard, Ma’am. I came upon Lord Astreus at Santa’s house. I was getting up my courage to say something to him, when your brother rounded a far corner. Lord Astreus greeted Mephisto and asked him how the years had been treating him. Mephisto answered in his usual dopey way, and they chatted for a few moments.”
    A growing icy sensation in my stomach warned me that I did not want to hear the rest of this, but curiosity held me captive. “About what?”
    “Normal stuff, like the weather and the low décolletage of the elven ladies this season. That was your brother’s contribution. Then—and this is the part I wanted to tell you about—Lord Astreus’s voice dropped so low I had trouble making out his words, but he said something like: ‘When last I saw you, circumstances were somewhat different, my friend. How did you manage to overcome your… affliction?’ ”
    “Interesting!” I leaned forward, pulling the afghan closer. “What did Mephisto say?”
    “Ma’am, your brother freaked!” Mab gestured emphatically with his pen. “His eyes fixed on the cup in Lord Astreus’s hand, and he began whimpering, ‘It’s y-you… . You’re the one who made me drink!’ Then, he started screaming at the top of his lungs, ‘No! No! Get away! I don’t want to forget!’ ”
    Dread gripped me like a vice. “What happened next?”
    “Nothing.” Mab shrugged. “Lord Astreus just walked away. His back was to me, so I couldn’t gauge his reaction. As soon as he left, Mephisto reverted back to normal—if you can call anything that nut case does, normal. He acted as if nothing had happened; just poured himself a drink from a nearby samovar and went hummingly on his way. By Setebos, he’s odd!
    “Anyway,” Mab continued, “at the time, I thought it was just the Harebrain being his usual whacked-out self. But now, in light of that mural—I’m not so sure… .” Mab paused. “Do you remember the elves talking about a party in honor of Lord Astreus, for having excused them from the tithe?”
    I nodded, recalling the terrible haunted look that had come over Astreus when I mentioned the incident.
    “I…” Mab sighed. “I hate to speculate without facts, Ma’am, especially as Lord Astreus once did a great good for my people.”
    “Spit it out, Mab!” An odd hollowness hovered where my stomach used to be.
    Mab was quiet for a long time. A loud thump came from some other part of the house, followed by a squawk and some bellowing. Eventually, the ruckus fell silent. When Mab finally did speak, his words spilled out in a rush. “Ma’am, I’m thinking Lord Astreus may have bought the elves their freedom that year by tithing your brother!”
    “What?” I half-rose from my chair.
    “It’s just… the maenad made some comment about Mephisto having drunk too deeply of the Lethe. And that carving of his?” Mab gestured vaguely in the direction of the ballroom. “It showed Lord Astreus kneeling beside the Lethe, right at the end