Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [216]
“If we’re to be saved, you must take the Beauty, Cley,” said Ludiya amid her blubbering. Chibbins was busy placing coffee cups and saucers beneath the spots where the frozen shaft leaked onto the tablecloth. He lifted his empty oatmeal bowl, turned it upside down, and put it on Mrs. Barlow’s head, covering her eyes.
THAT AFTERNOON, CHIBBINS and I made our way out to Rothac’s place and retrieved the cauldron of Beauty that still sat on the fireplace hearth. Of course, by then the fire was out and the stuff was cold, but Ludiya had told us it could be reheated. Chibbins carried the pot by its handle, twitching as he walked and sloshing the violet liquid so that some drops fell out. Wherever it fell, the snow turned not violet but black.
Once we returned to the Palace, I ordered Chibbins to drag Mrs. Barlow’s and Rothac’s remains to the carriage house where the cold would keep them somewhat fresher in death than life. When he returned from that task, I sent him out again, this time to count the willow trees. In the meantime, I found Ludiya and proffered my condolences. We sat on the divan in one of the hundred rooms, my arm tightly around her shoulders, like I was a favorite uncle. Her bosom pressed against me, and I lightly kissed her ear as she sobbed and said, “Poor Mother.” Poor Mother was not the appellation I’d have used for the old hag, although Poor might have been part of it.
After dinner, we retired to the plush thrones of the piano room, and Ludiya served us each a piping hot mug of the Beauty. The bubbling violet gave off a paradisiacal scent, and I found myself unable to resist it. So sweet, like a sweetness from the center of the earth or wrung out of the blue sky like rain wrung from the blouse of a field worker caught in a storm. I tasted it, and for a moment, my mind went blank. I saw pure white as if the powerful taste were instead a bright light. Once I began drinking, feeling the warmth of the brew as it traveled through me, I didn’t stop until the mug was empty. I took mine away from my lips as Ludiya did the same with hers. Chibbins had beat us both to the finish.
“Now,” said Ludiya, “give it a minute and you’ll begin to see what I was talking about.”
“How long do the effects of the drug last?” asked Chibbins.
I did a double take, unable to believe that my partner was capable of asking an intelligent question. In fact it was the question I was about to ask.
“Three or four hours,” she said.
“Must I stay in my chair?” asked Chibbins.
“No,” she said. “You will feel the need to rise and move around.”
For my part, I was staring at Chibbins. Something had happened. A great change had come over him. Not only had the Beauty conferred upon him a sort of relaxed, confident persona, leaning back in his chair with one leg suavely over the left arm, but he now had, without my witnessing it having grown, a thin dark mustache. He looked over at me and said, “Cley, old boy, do we have a plan?”
“Chibbins, what’s happened to you?” I asked.
“Nothing yet,” he said. “I propose we charge the Sanctity of Grace simultaneously, scalpels carving the air. We’ll slice her stem from stern and leave what’s left for the peacocks.”
“Calm down,” I said. “We’ll wait to see what the meeting brings.”
“There are birds in the fireplace,” said Ludiya, and I noticed piano music, although no one sat at the bench.
“It’s starting,” I said.
“Cley, you have a halo,” said Chibbins.
“Where did you get the cigarette?” I asked.
“I’ve no idea,” he said and took a drag. “Right now, there are green jewels crawling across the ceiling.” His head was back and he was laughing.
Ludiya stood and approached me. I reached out and took her hand. Bringing it to my lips, I kissed the back of it.
“That’s the ticket,” said Chibbins.
I puckered my lips to kiss the hand again, but in the moment I’d looked away it had become a bird talon. Ludiya had somehow become her mother, but her mother covered in feathers and sporting a sharp beak. I dropped the talon and reared back in my seat.