Free The Mephistophelean House by Benjamin Carrico

different?”
    “They are wards of the State.”
    The red brick path linked the refectory to the building with Palladian windows. The asylum was a castle in a cloud, quoins and tourelles, double pitched roofs with gabled dormers, copper hips and iron cresting, eyelid garrets and corbeled gambrel.
    “Where are you taking me?”
    “They have to believe I’m taking you to the Bolgia.”
    We walked brusquely. The straight jacket cut into my skin like a drowning sack. Runoff spilled from the Pent roof of the refectory, fog swallowing the asylum in a cauldron of mist. The broad slope swelled, the brick path welted in phantasms. Adjacent the hedge I could see Northgate. In my straightjacket I could cause a disturbance at the turnstile, but with no way to operate the controls, I had no way out.
    What if I did escape?
    What if I returned to the Mephistophelean House?
    A high wall was barbed in wire coping. We followed the red brick path to a little door between the refectory and hedge. The hulking giant unlocked the door and pointed to a boiler room.
    “It’s safe to talk here.”
    Rolled plate boilers roiled wrought iron vents. High pressure steam fueled fulsome sulfur jets. There was a cot, locker, and mirror. The hulking giant sank on the cot, looking like a man possessed.
    “Now is the time. We must strike before he is the wiser. Although he is beginning to piece it together, he does not recognize you. I’ll expedite you to the Bolgia in a rigged jacket. It is our only chance. Once he’s gone, we can get the key.”
    “The key?”
    “To the red box.”
    “The red box?”
    “Don't concern yourself with the red box. Remember, he is a tempter. He is not to be trusted, even for an instant. He will tempt you with the red box. It is the source of his power. Do not look inside, even for an instant.”
    “The source of his power?”
    Quantum interference issued from the very same red box I had seen in the Doctor’s study and the windowless chamber. It was the source of the nadir.
    And my absolution.
    “What's in the red box?”
    “A cathexis. It is like a mirror. Once you look into it, you see things as they really are.”
    “What do I do?”
    I hesitated, trying to envision myself strapped to the Doctor’s operating table.
    The hulking giant drew to his full height. “The scourge of man, he works alone inside the Operating Theatre. Wait until he turns his back. Then strike. Be careful, though. Don’t listen to what he says. In devils haven you must sojourn, lock the door, and make him burn.”
    “How can I trust you?”
    “How can you trust yourself?”
    The mirror hung on the wall.
    The straightjacket dripped on the floor.
    “Take off the restraint.”
    The hulking giant was right.
    How could I trust myself?
    “There are nine wards here at the House on the Hill, nine levels of hell just to face him still. A forest of sand and a skeleton key unlocks the box to the Weeping Tree.”
    “The Weeping Tree…”
    “But if you listen to the lies that he will tell about himself, you will wake up in a dream believing you're somebody else. Do not listen to the things he says, pay his words no heed, for your parts won't fit together and your eyes'll start to bleed."
    “What if I can’t ignore him?”
    “Trust me."
    "What will happen?”
    “You will leave with less than you came.”
    I peered at my reflection in a pond, stone in hand.
    “Once inside the inner chamber you will face a greater danger. Through the center you must pass to step inside the looking glass. Things will all be upside-down, bones of traitors on the ground, and he’ll be there alight on wings, the witch doctor, the fallen king.”
    “What must I do?”
    “Do what you must.”
    The hulking giant unfastened the restraint.
    The straightjacket fell on the floor.
    “Jonsrud's here.”
    The hulking giant stepped back.
    “Your other friend’s here, too.”
    “Matthew?"
    The hulking giant nodded.
    "Give me your keys.”
    “Keys? Yes.