The Prophecy Machine (Investments) (11 page)

“I am—ever in your hands, dear Finn.”

“Are you sure? You seem uncertain to me.”

“Not at all, love. How could you ever imagine that?”

“I'm grateful for your trust. I'm confident we'll come safely through.”

“Yes. I'm—certain we will.”

“Are you two finished?” Sabatino said with a sigh. “If you are, I bid you farewell with this parting word. When you reach the sea—if you did, I mean—you would find that the
Madeline Rose
is not at the wharf anymore, but is anchored in the bay. You would find all other vessels are anchored there as well.

“It matters very little if you don't believe in Hooters. I assure you the good captains do, as they've all been here before, and don't wish their vessels burned down to the keel. No one, Finn, and Letitia, dear, is fool enough to brave the night here …”

M
OMENTS AFTER THE SUN DISAPPEARED BEYOND
the rust-colored sky, darkness rushed in to swallow up the day. It happened so quickly Finn felt a chill that had little to do with the oncoming night. Letitia felt it too, for she huddled in the hollow of his shoulder and held herself tight, as if she might make herself smaller, safe against the dark in a warm hidey-hole, as her kind had done in ages past.

Sabatino seemed to read her thoughts, for he told them not to be concerned, that his home was just down the road, not very far at all. Finn caught the touch of amusement in his voice, for the fellow knew that Finn was not pleased with the prospect at all.

“Stay close to me in this damnable dark,” he told Letitia. “If anything should happen, I want you very near.”

“If she gets any closer,” Julia croaked from Finn's shoulder, “she'll be up here with me.”

“Be quiet. I can't think straight with you squawking all the time.”

“I seldom squawk. And even if I did—”

“Both of you be still, will you?” Letitia said. “There's something out there.”

“What? I don't hear a thing.”

“You don't have Mycer ears, dear.”

“That's true, I don't. But I have very sensitive hearing myself. My mother used to say—”

“Finn …”

“All right, I'm quiet.”

“Stay that way.”

Letitia closed her eyes, her features strained against the night as if she were feeling great pain.

“Hooters,” she said at last. “I'm certain there are Hooters out there.”

“Are you sure?”

“They're out there, just this side of town. Oh Finn, it's just like he said!”

“It's all right, we'll be just fine …”

“Keep up, craftsman,” Sabatino said, “or I'll leave you out here.”

“Just him,” the old man said. “Don't leave the pretty behind.”

Sabatino shook his head. “This has been a most intriguing day, I'm damned if it hasn't.”

“That's not what I'd call it,” Finn muttered to himself.

When he first saw it, when the dark shape appeared against the greater dark of night, it looked as if a jagged, ragged, malformed tooth had thrust itself up from the awesome jaws of the earth.

Closer, Finn decided it was less of a molar and more a horrid accident. Someone, or something, had apparently run into the thing, and knocked it all askew.

No, he thought again, there's a better metaphor than that: a mad architect and a crew of drunken builders had
stood well back and tossed sticks, stones, mortar and bricks in a great ungainly pile. Then, as a parting thought, threw in a score of cracked windows and cater-wonker doors.

There were two, three, or four dizzy floors, depending where you looked. No angle matched another, no pitch was the same. Rooms, towers, chimneys and roofs had been tacked on anywhere. This was a house, Finn decided, that defied the laws of nature, gravity, reason and taste.

And worst of all, the longer he gazed at the thing, the more it seemed to waver, shift, vanish all together, then pop into being again.

“I feel kind of funny,” Letitia said, her face visibly pale even in the dark. “I think I maybe have to throw up.”

“Don't look at it,” Finn said, “that thing isn't real, it's some kind of spell.”

“He's right, for once,” Sabatino said, “some of it's magic, some of it's not. We don't know why, it's been that way long as anyone can recall. Takes a while to get used to—look at something else.

“Come along, your Newlie is right. There are Hooters out there, and not far at that. Most of the bastards never heard of Father, and wouldn't care if they did …”

Inside, the house was most peculiar, although without the nauseating effect. The fault there lay in a great abundance of dust, darkness and neglect. The wooden beams were suffering from rot. The stone walls were cracked. Moths had devoured the tapestries down to a few feeble threads. The décor was Early Gloom. The overall ambiance was Damp.

“We'll be having a late dinner, I fear,” Sabatino said, flinging his hat at a chair. The colorful plumes had broken in the fight and were now reduced to stubs.

“Don't bother,” Finn said, an image of Sabatino's kitchen in mind, “I couldn't eat a thing.”

“I could,” Letitia said, “I'm absolutely starved.”

“Letitia …”

“I must say I've never seen a place as big as this. Why, we could fit the whole house on Garpenny Street in a corner somewhere.”

“I can't imagine why we'd do that. No offense, you understand.”

“None taken,” Sabatino said. “That craftsman's sense of humor has a fine edge, Finn.”

Finn pretended not to hear. He noted they'd been inside scarcely a minute and a half and Sabatino's father had completely disappeared. Changing into something more proper than nothing at all, no doubt.

“If I may ask, I know Letitia's quite weary, and I wonder if there's somewhere she could rest. I seldom tire, but I confess I could use a break myself.”

“Of course,” Sabatino said with a courtly gentleman's bow, or at least a parody of such. “You'll find lovely quarters upstairs. There is every convenience one could ask. Squeen William will show you the way.”

Finn followed the fellow's glance and saw no one at all, nothing but a shadow on the wall. He glanced at Letitia, but she clearly saw nothing herself.

“Been with the Nuccis for years. A quite reliable servant, none better, as a fact. Loyal, quick, part of the family, I'd say. A dear, dear fellow, he—

“—by damn, you worthless, cunning bastard, you've been in the spirits again, I can smell your foul breath from here! You take advantage of my gentle nature, you miserable lout. If I didn't have guests, I'd flail you bloody, strip the skin off your back. Damn your heathen soul, I'm talking to you!”

“… And I be lissssen to your worthy, as isss my pleassure, sssir….”

Letitia screamed, backed up and ran into Finn, tried to push him off and get away.

“It's all right, love, I'm right here.”

It wasn't all right, for his heart had nearly stopped, and he'd almost shouted himself. You scarcely ever saw a Vampie, unless you were fond of the night. They were creatures of the Nine, but likely more frightening—and far less human—than any of the rest. Gaunt, hairy creatures with ebony eyes, a flat, ugly nose, and hairy ears. From their narrow shoulders to their wrists, they carried a band of dark leathery tissue, vestigial wings from what they'd been before.

Though few in these days knew why, it was more than their appearance that frightened humans. Long before they took Newlie form, they had been perceived as creatures akin to magic of the very darkest kind.

“… Ah, Squeen my boy, there you are, then. These are our honored guests. Finn, master of—what did you call the thing? And this lovely creature is his, ah—able companion, Mistress Letitia Louise. See that you answer their every need, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed you to the eels. Now take these good people to their room before I forget I'm a patient, most forgiving man …”

Letitia drew in a breath. “Squeen, I hope you'll accept my apology. I was startled, I guess, and I didn't mean to scream.”

“Isss all right, misss. Squeen be unner'sssstan.”

“Quite, ah, unnecessary, that,” Sabatino said with a frown, “no need at all.”

“You will follow, pleassse?”

“Thank you,” Finn said, in an effort to further irritate their host. “That's most kind of you, Squeen.”

“Impertinent lout,” Sabatino muttered to himself.

Finn, holding Letitia's hand, followed the creature up a narrow, winding staircase that rose into the dark.

“Damn the fellow … doesn't miss a chance to cause others discomfort if he can …”

“What's that, my dear?”

“Nothing. Mumbling to myself.”

“Well, it was certainly a very
angry
sort of mumble, I have to say.”

Finn didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the worn wooden stairs, praying they wouldn't give way and plunge them into some dark and endless abyss.

Squeen William with his dim tallow candle up ahead was not a pretty sight. He waddled like a duck, dragging one foot painfully behind, the motion causing him to sway from side to side. And in odd countermotion, his head bobbed from front to back.

At the top of the stairs, Squeen proceeded down a long and dusty hall, past dark foreboding doors, past scabby papered walls, past corridors that clearly led nowhere at all. Finn ran into a thick spiderweb, and no matter how he tore and pulled and flailed, this graveyard for hapless nits and moths, flutter-bugs and things that buzz about, this coffin for the hollow husks of flies clung to his face and wouldn't go away.

“Here, ssssir and misss,” Squeen said, stopping before a door much like the ones they'd passed before. “Wery fine quarters, you bees warm and comfy here.”

“Thank you, Squeen,” Finn said. “We are grateful for your help.”

“Yesssss.” Squeen offered a ghastly smile to show that he was pleased. “You needin' ssssomething, you bees callin' Squeen.”

Finn waited until the creature was gone, then he turned and took Letitia in his arms.

“Oh, dear Finn, Finn …” Letitia had been holding her breath, and now she let it out in a rush.

“We'll be all right,” Finn assured her. “We'll stay right here until daylight. We won't even go downstairs, that's what he wants us to do. Sit down and listen to more of his pompous, irritating talk. Play the gracious host.”

“I
am
hungry, dear.”

“Of course you are. And I shall demand that he send food up to our room. He can't deny us that.”

Letitia sighed. “Yes he can, Finn. He can, and he surely will.”

Finn looked away, angry at Sabatino Nucci, but mostly angry at himself, for he knew Letitia was right. The damned fellow had them in a box. There was nothing they could do, nowhere to go. Certainly not out into the night.

“Ah, love,” Letitia said, her hands about his neck, “you're worried about me, as ever, and you really mustn't be. I'm perfectly fine, I'm just a bit—scared, is all. Scared and awfully tired.”

“This is not the vacation I had in mind, my dear. I never dreamed we'd be caught up in something like this. Damnation, it's been a disaster from the start. One thing after another. That ship, the crew, that maniac Magreet, and then—
him
. Scones and Bones, what did I do to deserve Sabatino Nucci in my life?”

“It's not your fault now, Finn. There's nothing you could have done.”

“Yes, you're right.” He turned to her then, a sudden flash of understanding in his eyes. “You're right, I've been telling myself I was a fool, a buffoon who could do nothing right. A weak and trusting dolt helpless to stand against the vagaries of chance.”

Finn sat on the edge of the bed and motioned Letitia to his side. “I have come to see, love, that even the Fates could
not contrive to dump such an odorous load of dung into my life. No, there is something else at work here, something I have completely failed to see.”

“What, Finn? What is it you're trying to say?”

“I'm certain I must be wrong in this—yet, equally sure that I'm not, for it is the only thing that smacks of reason in this whole bizarre set of events.”

He reached over and took her hands, finding them suddenly icy cold. “You know I steer clear of mystic arts, Letitia. I wear no amulets, I have no use for spells. Yet, after all that has happened, I have to say our troubles smack of magic to me.”

“Oh, Finn …” Letitia drew her hands away, stood, and looked at the shabby wall. “I feel you're out of sorts, my dear. We are under a great deal of strain, and I cannot blame you for thinking as you do. Still, I have to say I don't know who would go to the trouble of buying a curse as troublesome and—and as threatening as this.”

“Nor do I. But that's what it feels like to me.”

“Who, then? I ask again, who could it possibly be?”

“Who would spend the money to fill my life—and yours—with chaos and misfortune? Why, several names come to mind.”

“Name one.”

“Count Onjine. He tried to use one of my lizards to murder the prince. You surely remember that.”

“Of course I do. But Onjine is dead. I remember that as well. Done in by the very trap he set for the prince.”

Finn made a noise in his throat, a deep and thoughtful noise, if one is familiar with sounds such as that.

“He has friends, Letitia. Friends, brothers and uncles and other wealthy kin. None as mean-spirited as Onjine himself I grant you, but still …”