Prospero in Hell Read Online Free PDF

had grown so far apart? Why could we not always be the way we were in this portrait?
    “And that fellow?” Mab pointed at my last brother, who smiled wryly through the long lank hair that fell over his eyes. He was the only one without sideburns.
    “Oh. That…”—I could not keep the disgust from my voice—“is Erasmus.”
    Mab squatted down and examined him more closely. “The professor, right? He’s the one you don’t like. Got it.”
    “ ‘Don’t like’ is putting it mildly,” I murmured. I glanced at my brother again and quickly looked away. Just seeing Erasmus’s face again brought to mind a thousand offenses he had committed against me. I fought off the wave of loathing that assailed me.
    “And that, of course, is Mr. Prospero.” Mab pointed at the imposing figure of my father, with his gray flowing hair and beard. The print had captured the wise yet humorous gleam that lit his eyes.
    I paused, struck by a sudden pain in my heart. Father! How I missedhim. Until he retired three years ago, I had been his constant companion, helping him in everything he did. And now? If my Lady and our Ouija board séance were to be believed, he was a living prisoner in Hell, hardly a fate I would wish on an enemy, much less a loved one.
    Behind me, Mab moved on. He prowled around on the far side of the cluttered chamber. Pausing be peered at an elaborate scene of maidens playing Ring Around the Rosy in a meadow near a pond that was surrounded by cattails.
    Surreptitiously wiping my eyes, I joined him. The quality of the carving he was examining was exquisite. I trailed my finger along the curlicues of a complicated filigree.
    Mab squinted at my hand, drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and ran it over the curves and narrow angles of the carving before us. Then he peered at his handkerchief and sniffed it.
    “Weird. Everything’s spotless. You’d think a house kept by your loony brother and his menagerie would be dusty, if not filthy. Oh, and this is a door.”
    “Huh?” I glanced around, confused.
    Mab chuckled. “Look.”
    He tapped the carving three times, then pushed hard on the nose of a laughing girl in a kerchief and dirndl. The whole panel opened, swinging away from us to reveal a descending spiral staircase. The wonderful aromas of pastry and bubbling stew wafted up to meet us.
    Mab and I glanced at each other. Mab grinned. We headed down. The passageway led into a wide kitchen with shiny copper pots hanging from a rack overhead. The maenad stood before the stove, sautéing vegetables and stirring a big boiling pot. Nearby, in yet another pool, the mermaid peeled potatoes. She was wearing earphones and humming to herself, her tail tapping the water to the beat.
    “Welcome to our humble kitchen,” she purred in her husky voice.
    “Thought you and Harebrain were off…” Mab’s voice trailed off, and his face became somewhat red.
    The maenad snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “The master’s all smoke and no fire. He was just trying to flatter me, so I’d agree to cook dinner for his guests.”
    “Probably wise that he abstains, considering what happened to your last son,” Mab muttered. Realizing she had heard him, he flushed more deeply. “Er, sorry… Your Majesty.”
    The maenad gave him a withering look but restrained her comments to, “The master’s out in the barn, seeing to the comfort of the wounded gryphon.”
    “Are you really that Agave?” I asked. “Queen Agave of Thebes?”
    “Once of Thebes, long ago. Later of Illyria and of other places. Yes.”
    “But, weren’t you… mortal?”
    “I was born mortal. I lost my humanity when my son and I offended Bacchus.” She scratched the slate tiles with the pinecone on top of her thyrsos, and a fountain of wine sprang up, filling the kitchen with the sweet scent of crushed grapes. Deftly sticking a bowl under the fountain, she caught some of the deep purple liquid and, measuring it out, poured two cups into the stew. The newly