Beyond the Raging Flames Page 19

  The noise from everyone had become deafening, and the Professor could not help but stick out his chin when he pondered how he would struggle through the week on his paltry funds.

  Lucia, ever in command, made a gesture with her hand to speak, and silence fell upon the room again: ‘show us your face' one man called out, but Lucia ignored the request, kept her mask in place, and said instead.

  ‘I donate half my win, to a poor unmarried girl’s dowry.'

  The room sighed, including the merchants, humbled by her generosity.

  ‘She’s no longer our Goddess, but the Queen of heaven.' Gushed John to his companions, the men seemed so overcome with emotion and admiration that the Professor imagined they were going to throw themselves down in tribute to Lucia. His expression curdled before he rolled his eyes at his friends: shaking his head.

  She’s no Queen of Heaven you fools thought the Professor, she’s a cruel, Pagan, hard-minded witch.

  The Professor stood unmoved by Lucia's statement that touched most to the quick. Some guests declared they wished themselves poor enough to have a daughter gain a good dowry through such charity. 'Ridiculous' snorted the Professor when he heard such sentiments.

  Lucia moved away from the Bassetta table to buy herself a drink but had every intention of making good on her offer.

  ‘She’s coming this way’ gasped Gerben, who seemed to lose all his bravado when in sight of Lucia as she ascended the steps. She kept her mask in place. The Professor stepped behind the merchants as Lucia approached from below, and John pushed Prince Fano forward to address the glamorous woman.

  ‘Donna Lucia’, he said in his most gracious tone, ‘it’s a pleasure that our paths should cross again.’

  ‘Gentlemen’ said Lucia with feigned surprise, as she locked eyes with the Professor, ‘you recognise me. What a pleasant chance to happen upon you all here' the merchants almost bowed. The Professor stood stony-faced in silence. 'How’s business?’

  And thus, the pleasantries were exchanged, the Professor avoided what interaction he could, and Lucia refused to be offered a beverage, but insisted instead that she buy all of the men, and herself a drink from her winnings. She ordered several bottles of wine, and together they toasted her good fortune - even the Professor who struggled to relax when around her. Lucia peered at the Professor from the corner of her mask, as she exchanged pleasantries, and bided her time.

  She plied the men with drink, well knowing the taste of the merchants who were more than happy to receive grace and favour from one of their most esteemed clients. The Professor drank slower than the others, suspecting the motives of the shining woman, and suppressed flashbacks of Lucia’s gleaming body atop his when he was strapped helplessly to her bed in Arcetri.

  But Lucia was patient as well as cunning, and the alcohol and her charm soon won out: for the merchants had begun to slur their words. She topped up the glasses of the men again to be sure of her work, and encouraged, with sweetness, the three wobbly merchants to take their ease and sit downstairs. They obeyed her like sleepy children. 'That's it Signores; you rest yourselves' she cooed, depositing the men on a vacated table. Satisfied with her success, Lucia then walked back up the steps and over to the glaring Professor. ‘We need to talk’ she said, while still holding her mask in place. The Professor drew back.

  ‘You can’t lay a finger on me’ he said in a haughty tone.

  ‘That’s not quite true’ said Lucia, ‘the Goddess said that you're no longer under my influence and that I’m not to harm you: and I respect that now.’ He narrowed his eyes.

  ‘And well you should’ he said, looking about him and checking his location for doors, ‘for if you so much as lay a finger on me in anger I’ll see to it that Hekate rips out your heart myself.' Lucia pouted.

  ‘You're still sour then?’ She said studying his face, but the Professor did not answer as his lips narrowed to a line. ‘I see: you’re still offended.' The sinews rose in Winston's jaw. She fanned herself. 'Fine, that is fair: I used force against you' she paused, 'I regret it, and I take the blame for the way I behaved' she added raising her palm. Lucia seemed contrite. 'But we still need to talk about... those’ she said pointing to the Professor’s box that had not left his side. The Professor shifted to shield the boxed Soul-lanterns from her.

  ‘Do you know the contents?’ he said glancing from side to side, and spying his drunk friends that had flopped themselves down upon some chairs. John had begun to snore.

  ‘I have a crystal ball, remember?' said Lucia.

  'So, you managed to keep that, did you? Before the Devil and your friends THREW you out' sneered the Professor. Emotion flashed in Lucia's face at the memory, before her brow lifted and her lips puckered.

  ‘Of course, I already know what’s in the box, and I must speak to you about it.'

  The Professor kissed his teeth in disgust, in the way he had learned from a Jamaican friend in London. Lucia looked startled: the sucked air made him sound like a rattlesnake - his friend, Raymond, would be proud.

  The Professor looked at his glowing adversary and sensed her determination: foiling Lucia would be pointless. He gestured with his head to a side door leading off the main room in which they stood. He had seen previous inhabitants leave it earlier. Lucia and the Professor walked in, and the pair were alone.

  He closed the door. She caught a waft to the Professor's scent. Lucia's breath quickened. But she composed herself.

  ‘May I see the Soul-lanterns?’ She said. Hearing the name of the devices fall from her lips reminded the Professor that Lucia, a woman he felt to be his enemy, was the only person on Earth who understood their use, and the only person on Earth that had shared in his experience with Hekate.

  He put the shallow box upon the low table that stood in the room. ‘May I?’ said Lucia uncovering her face, and threading the stem of her mask through her belt.

  The Professor nodded yes but was annoyed at being reminded of her beauty. She approached the container with reverence, pulling the fabric aside, and gasped as she opened the box of twelve Soul-lanterns, each nestled within a grooved velvet depression. ‘They’re even more beautiful in person. The craftsmanship is exquisite’ she said. Lucia then plucked out one of the hexagonal glass structures: like five small rectangular window panes framed with gold embellished bars. She held up the structure and turned it in the light. ‘So, the soul would be held by the spider within here?’ she said considering the void, spying the catch and pressing upon it, as the Professor had done while experimenting. The frame sprung open. ‘Who made them for you?’ she asked, as if she did not know. The Professor said nothing for some time.

  ‘How long have you been watching me?’ He said. Lucia looked evasive. The Professor’s face clouded, ‘how long? And how often?’ He said raising his voice. Lucia breathed in deep and looked up at the ceiling.

  ‘I’ve watched you since you left Arcetri’ she confessed.

  ‘Every day?’ he said with his brows raised. Lucia shook her head. She no longer needed her cochineal to blush.

  ‘Not every day, but now and again to be sure you had not come to harm.’

  ‘Bollocks!’ said the Professor, and he thought of his fling with Giaconda and wondered if they were not as alone as he thought. ‘What have you seen?’ he said.

  ‘Not everything’ said Lucia, ‘give me some respect. I’m not a little boy that spies upon his parents.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’ Lucia rolled her eyes.

  ‘You flatter yourself' she scoffed, 'all that matters is what happens next.'

  Silence fell as the Professor paused to ponder what she said. Lucia swallowed hard and coughed. The Professor did not speak and seemed far off. She looked down to the floor and fiddled with her dress in the agonising silence.

  ‘Take me with you’ she whispered in a little voice.

  ‘What?’ said the Professor, shaken out of his meditation, before cupping his hand to his ear. She closed her eyes, breathed deep and then look
ed him in the eye.

  ‘I said... Take me with you’ she added, but with conviction, ‘wherever you intend to go I wish to follow.'

  A look of confusion soured the Professor’s expression, and his brows so knotted themselves that they seemed to join into one. He rubbed his face and paced the small room. He stopped to look at Lucia, as if in a new light and then began his walking again. She watched him pace up and down and wrung her hands.

  ‘It’s always been my intention to travel alone’ he said, before pausing, ‘this is MY vision, MY mission, MY search…’ he added, jabbing at his chest, ‘and I don’t want to share it... with ANYONE.'

  Lucia listened, and then moved here and there about the table, but faltered as she did so. She knocked off an abandoned glass on the table by accident, and the breakage made her flinch. Then she stood still, faced the Professor, straightened her arms, and clenched her fists.

  ‘You need me’ she declared. The Professor scoffed before he gave a slack-wristed waft at her words. ‘You may laugh now, but you do. Think about it.' This time he laughed loud with scorn. But Lucia carried on. ‘I’ve learned my craft for over twenty years’ she said, ‘you’re an intelligent man, brave even, but there's so much you don’t know. Hekate gave you her blessing, but not her wisdom.'

  The Professor paused, running through his mind of all the advantages he had in his knowledge of the past, present and future. He covered his mouth, but his laughter still leaked out, more from the reversal of their fortunes than anything else. Lucia stiffened and glared at the Professor. ‘How will you ensure that the souls of those you wish to capture will not be lost into the Ether when that person dies?’ The Professor grew quiet. But she continued. ‘Even if you could capture the soul without my help, how would you charm the spider in such a way that she will not devour the soul right off? Only to then hear the soul cry out: forever lost within her.'

  The Professor blinked several times. He stood long-faced and rubbed his brow before shaking a hand through his platinum hair. Lucia pointed at him nodding as she spoke. ‘How will you reanimate the host’s body with the captured soul once it has been cleaved from its own?’

  The Professor had no answers to her questions. 'Can you return what is dead back to life?' Lucia raised her brows, 'aha' she said, 'it seems you did not think of that... No' she added, shaking her head, 'you're not that foolish: you hoped to STEAL that knowledge instead.' The Professor could not deny the accusation, for it was his original plan all along: he had stolen much of the knowledge he needed before, and could do so again. Lucia could see that her insight and words had made an impression. Her eyes glittered as she spoke.

  ‘I can do all those things of which I’ve spoken... and in much less time it would take you to learn it’ she said, gesturing like an evangelist. ‘I’ve created life from mud and communed with divine beings, the Gods and Goddesses of the firmament. I’ve glimpsed the future and the past. I can do all these things with ease and more…’

  The door flew open.

  ‘WE NEED MORE DRINK’ said a loud voice, and in staggered John almost knocking into the table, and looking at the contents of the case before he stumbled to the floor.

  The Professor cursed under his breath, and Lucia, only just, managed to contain her surprise. John, who gave off the distinctive smell of a drunk, pointed to the box of Soul-lanterns from where he lay on the floor.

  ‘Showing her your “spider traps” are you?’ The man hollered from where he resided. John tried to get up from the floor, but the Professor ignored his waving hand, and instead went to the door to close it. He stuck out his head to see where his other companions were and saw Prince Fano and Gerben migrating back to the gambling tables. The Professor shut the door, and John flapped at the ground as if marooned on an island.

  ‘Spider traps you say?’ said Lucia, in such a way to encourage the paralytic man to elaborate.

  ‘Yes… yes, little lighthouses for his Golden Orb Weavers’ said John twiddling his fingers in the air, and then he began to titter and laugh to himself as if he had heard some great joke. If Lucia had not been there, Winston would have kicked John in the mouth. Instead, he tried then to pick the man up and take him off, but John wriggled: sweaty and disobedient.

  ‘Orb Weavers you say?’ said Lucia directing her voice to John but her eyes onto the Professor, ‘my, my, I hear those are very rare and expensive spiders.' She said, making eyes at Winston.

  ‘C’mon John’ said the Professor, animated, ‘it’s time that someone took you home.’ He tugged at John again, but with more force and vigour than before. But John had a stout physique, and the Professor struggled to lift him, and he would need Lucia’s help to do so. She saw this but carried on with her banter.

  ‘Do you remember, John? I used to buy those spiders from you myself’ the Professor froze, ‘and I also recall how difficult they were to get hold of: do you remember John?’

  John giggled and laughed again as if Lucia had said something hilarious, and made a grope for the table to try and stand up. The Professor snatched the box away before he could break anything. John fell back and spoke again. ‘Yes, I remember... I remember what a fine woman you are' he said drifting off topic. Lucia smiled. 'Yes, yes, you are our greatest customer: we adore you, and you're always so agreeable.'

  The Professor sensed that John could reveal something important about him, and rushed forward to cover the man’s mouth. John struggled with the Professor like an unruly sibling about to tell a parent a secret that would cause him great trouble.

  ‘That's enough John: you’re drunk’ said the Professor, but John chewed at his finger, the Professor yanked his hand away from John’s mouth.

  ‘TWELVE he wants’ John blurted out, ‘can you believe it! Twelve of the Madagascan golden-black beauties’ he exclaimed, as the Professor nursed his hand. ‘But we could only give him five’ and with that John pointed at the Professor and laughed so hard that he almost wet himself.

  John clutched at himself as he howled with laughter as if the Professor were the funniest sight in the world. Winston turned pink as he glared daggers at the drunk. Lucia’s eyes flashed with satisfaction.

  ‘Thank you, John’ she said, ‘you, as always, are most helpful.’ Lucia then knelt next to John’s uncoordinated body, muttered something in his ear, gave a gentle snap of her fingers in front of his eyes, and in that instant, the man fell asleep.

  She stood up. ‘Winston, your goose is cooked’, she declared, ‘beyond all doubt, you do need me’ she said, ‘and far more than you've realised.' The Professor remained silent, his face like a pink wall. He checked his finger for bite marks. ‘I can get you the spiders you need’ said Lucia.

  ‘Impossible’ said the Professor, with a huff, ‘they’re months away by sea.'

  ‘But not for me.’

  'You're crazy' said the Professor, 'Stella beat your brains out.' Lucia crossed her arms.

  ‘I can fly there.'

  The Professor covered his eyes and gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Of course,’ he said rubbing his forehead. He wondered how he should forget such a thing, before he slumped, flat faced, and with almost an ironic smile upon his lips. This woman is inescapable he thought to himself. ‘I go on one condition’ said Lucia. The Professor waited to hear her demands. Reality had dawned on him. His chances of success without her expertise were slender at best: the realisation crushed him. ‘It could be dangerous and will be difficult. I fly to Madagascar to harvest the seven spiders needed' she said, 'but I get to keep three spiders and three Soul-lanterns for myself.'

  The Professor put his head in his hands and rubbed at his face in silence as if told there was a death in the family. Lucia watched him, as he massaged his scalp with his head bowed down. He shook his head and exhaled.

  ‘Fine’ he said after a long pause, ‘fine, as you wish.' Then he snapped upright with a deep breath and a raised fist, ‘but I LEAD. I lead this mission: it’s my idea and my vision.’ The Professor shook all over, ‘but I
swear, I swear with every bone in my body, that if you try to steal my dream from me...’ the Professor then slammed his fist upon the table, ‘then I’ll find a way to KILL you myself.'

  Lucia stiffened at his words, chastened by the threat, but held her head high.

  In silence, she nodded as she looked at the Professor. The two stood staring at each other for some time until both understood and accepted the will of the other. Lucia then made her move to go, and the Professor turned to hand her seven of the Soul-lanterns.

  She used the loops to string the lanterns on her belt with her red winnings bag. She then whispered thanks to Winston, he nodded, and the Professor walked to open the door for her. Lucia in her magnificence and triumph then stepped over John’s snoring body and paused in the doorway. She reached into her money bag and took out four ducats, 'for your trouble' she said and pressed the money into Professor Sloane's hand.

  When Lucia had left the room, the Professor closed the door again, pondered his new reality, and looked with contempt at John that still slumbered upon the floor.

  He stood over the snoring man, as he held his Soul-lantern case, now short of seven, and wanted to stamp on his head. The Professor then glared at the merchant, and let a string of spittle dangle from his lips and plop into John's hair. He ground his teeth till the muscles raised in his cheeks.

  'You fucking little shit' he hissed before he kicked the sleeping man, hard in his ass, with all his might. John barrelled ahead, sidelong, into the feet of some chairs, and groaned in his charmed sleep. The Professor then kicked the little table onto him from where he stood. It clattered onto John's head with a crash. The Professor swore again at John several times before he left the room: slamming the door to leave him where he lay.

  ◆◆◆

  Later that night after Lucia had done the required things to use half her winnings to secure the dowry of a poor unmarried girl, she returned all that she had borrowed, from her friend to the Juliet balcony of Seraphina’s window. Her friend slept within the embrace of her client that had, at last, turned up.