Free Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I by L. Jagi Lamplighter Page A

embraced me, he smelled pleasantly of Old Spice aftershave. I had not seen him look so neatly turned out in many, many years.
    Mephisto leapt back. He spread his arms and threw back his head, assuming the pose he had immortalized in his statue of himself.
    “Don’t you recognize me?” he cried happily.
    “Of course, I recognize you, Mephisto.” I looked him over once, and then gestured toward the food cart. “Ah . . . why don’t you pull up a chair and eat your lunch? You look famished.”
    He really did, too. He was thin, almost emaciated. I wondered if he had eaten in days.
    Mephisto pulled up a straight-backed chair to the serving cart of food room service had provided and began devouring the fare. He inhaled whole slices of pizza and devoured sandwich halves in a single bite. His eyes, however, remained fixed fondly, though warily, on my face.
    “So?” he asked happily, his mouth full.
    “I believe something may have happened to Father,” I began. “He sent me a note that suggests he ran afoul of powers he could not control. His message asked that I warn the family if I did not hear from him. When I found the message, I sent Aerie Ones to his house on the island, but he hadn’t been back since he left to come to America in September. So, I’m warning the family. Beware the Three Shadowed Ones.”
    “They’re after our staffs!” Mephisto exclaimed.
    “How did you know?”
    “They took mine, didn’t they?”
    “I thought yours was stolen by some strumpet you took home for the night.”
    “That’s because you didn’t stick around to hear the whole story,” Mephisto shot back accusingly.
    “You were drunk.”
    “You were rude.”
    This was getting us nowhere.
    “Someone broke into the house and . . . did some damage,” I said, returning to the earlier topic. It was too soon after the lute fiasco to tell Mephistopheles about the shattered statues. “I believe it was one of these Three Shadowed Ones, and he was after our staffs.”
    “I told you!” Mephisto turned to Mab. “Didn’t I tell her?”
    “That’s not all, Mephisto,” I continued. “The creature that broke into the mansion . . . it was an incubus.”
    “What?” exclaimed Mephisto
    “A Power of Hell!”
    “Oh, them.” He reached for a biscuit.
    A shiver ran down my spine. Was Mephisto so far gone he no longer feared the servants of Hell? If so, he was not just out of it, he was dangerous to be near! Either way, it was time to do what I came to do and go.
    “Look, I’ve given you Father’s warning. Now, you know. Father said to ‘keep close the gifts he had given.’ In your case, the warning came too late. All the same. I thought you should know.”
    “Who else have you warned?”
    “No one yet. You’re the first.”
    Mephisto wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided. “What a good move! Now you’ll have me to help you find the others.”
    “Great comfort that is,” muttered Mab, from where he sat hunched over his lunch. Apparently, he was still disgruntled from the drenching he hadtaken bathing my brother. Mephisto regarded Mab, and then turned back to me, cocking his head.
    “Where’d you chase up this one? He looks like something out of the movies. Is he your bodyguard?”
    I laughed, and Mab snorted.
    “A body would have to be crazy to guard the likes of her. Always rushing in where angels fear to tread.”
    I stood to perform the proper introductions. “Mephisto, this is Mab Boreal, one of the Incarnated Northerlies. He heads our company detectives. Mab, this is my brother Mephisto.”
    “Detective?” Mephisto’s eyes shone brightly. “As in ‘finds lost things’?”
    I nodded.
    “And he’s traveling with you? . . . And you’re going where now? To warn the others? The others who have staffs these Three Shadowy Ones might be hunting down as we speak?”
    “Yes, that’s right.”
    Mephisto glanced back and forth between Mab and myself. Then, he gave us his brightest smile. “When do