Read Prospero in Hell for Free Online

round. We all have our own homes and haunts. We’re only here now because the master calledus all together for a big party—to celebrate finding us again!” She sighed again. “I’m so envious of Chimie for saving him and helping him get back the staff. I wish I could have saved the master!”
    “Tush, tush,” commented Queen Agave, as she slid chopped leeks from her cutting board into the stew. “We all have our purposes. No reason to covet someone else’s role.”
    Glancing around the kitchen, Mab chuckled. “So, Harebrain was telling the truth. He really does have a maenad or harpy cook him breakfast.”
    “Harpy!” Queen Agave snorted. “That mean old bird has no hands. All she does is terrorize the poor
bwca
into doing the work for her. Harpy cooking breakfast indeed!” She paused, reaching for a cutting board marred with deep scratches. “Speaking of the
bwca
. . .”
    Agave scratched her nails across the board. Creamy milk ran from the scratches. She caught the milk in a bowl, then scratched the board once more. This time golden honey dripped down the marred wood. She let a few drops fall into the bowl and swirled the milk around.
    “Put this by the fireplace in the big empty room upstairs, would you?”
    Mab took the bowl carefully and started up the stairs. On the second step, he paused.
    “Eh… either of you ladies know anything about a big, black, bat-winged guy with sapphire eyes and claws?”
    “Who, us?” Agave’s expressive face was unnaturally blank. “No. I have never seen anything like that.”
    “Me, neither.” The mermaid put on her headphones and began bopping to the music, the water rippling about her.
    Mab turned and ascended the staircase without a comment. Once at the top and through the arch, he murmured, “She’s lying.”
    “Obviously,” I agreed.
    He growled, scrunching up his face. I could tell that he would have punched his palm, except his hands were full with
bwca
milk. “Bet I could pummel the truth out of her!”
    The chamber with the great hearth contained only a few neat piles of gear and numerous pastel squares of paper. There was no pool, only a hardwood floor that creaked beneath our feet.
    “
Bwca,
eh?” Mab put the bowl down beside the brick of the fireplace. “Welsh relative of the brownie. No wonder the place is spotless. Those fellows’ll clean anything for a little honey-laced milk.”
    I slipped my hand into the pocket of my cashmere cloak, which I carried over one arm, my fingers seeking the supple leather of the little book. Several rooms back, I had spied a big comfortable chair, albeit one that was pushed up next to two smaller chairs. Still, it was beside a window with plenty of light. If I walked back there now, I might be able to read the entire book before dinner.
    “Are we done?”
    Mab shook his head. “If we’re going to get to the bottom of what is up with the Harebrain, we’ve got to unravel the clues he’s left all around us.” He glanced at the mostly empty hall. “I’m convinced there’s some method to this madness, and I intend to find it!”
    “We’re wasting our time, Mab,” I snapped. “These messages are just notes my brother leaves to remind himself of things he’s forgotten.”
    Mab stalked over to a pile of yellowed fencing gear leaning against the far side of the hearth. Following him, I saw jackets, helmets, two foils, and an epee. The note stuck to the wall above read: REMEMBER TO PRACTICE .
    “Condemning evidence, that,” I mused. “It’s all clear now.”
    Mab gave me a long, level look. “You want me to work or not, Ma’am? It’s your call.”
    I waved a hand. “Carry on.”
    Beyond, two cardboard boxes holding ribbons, wrapping paper, and a few children’s toys stood to either side of an empty closet. Scraps of tape and brightly colored paper were scattered about the floor. The notes stuck to the wall above the two boxes read: FOR E.D. and FOR T.C.
    “This must be recent. The
bwca
hasn’t