Eddie Read online

  Suddenly there was an even louder growl, and the suitcase began to bang and thump. All within earshot gasped. The magician turned quickly, putting his boot upon the case.

  “STOP, DANTE! Instinimus nostrum!” The thumping slowly ceased, and the suitcase grew quiet.

  “As you can see,” Mephisto said, addressing his audience once again, “one must be always on one’s guard with such creatures. Fortunately, he is primarily a prankster. Unfortunately, his fun is always at the expense of others.

  “And so, in the wee hours of yesterday morning, when the demon heard the spine-tingling yowl of the cat and the eye-opening crow of the rooster, he saw a chance for deviltry. But before his fun could begin, he needed one more playmate to make the game complete: a scapegoat, a dupe, an unknowing innocent on whom the blame for the cruel joke would fall. Ah!” Mephisto’s eyes widened in imitation of the mischievous imp as he rubbed his hands with relish. “How about the innocent neighbor lad? Using his psychic powers, the demon called the boy out of his bed and into this yard. Still clutching his own pillow, the boy walked in a sleeplike trance. How gleefully Dante must have stripped that pillow of its case. Then, using the boy himself as bait, the imp lured the trusting cat to within reach.

  “In a lightning-quick move the demon snatched up the unsuspecting animal and tossed it into the empty pillowcase. Then, in a twinkling, the demon threw open the gate to the chicken yard and chased down the hapless rooster.

  “It was at that moment that I, sensing great disturbances in the necromantic membranes of my magician’s brain, finally roused myself from slumber. There, from my bedroom window, I witnessed the demon stuff the flapping bird into the sack. Even Dante was unprepared for the violent thrashing from within the pillowcase that followed. Not to mention the ungodly din. At first it frightened, but then delighted, him.

  “Within moments I myself was in the yard uttering every incantation I could think of. But when the devil saw me, he clutched the bag and took to the rooftops. Pausing only at the peak of the stable, he hung the pitifully writhing bag from the weather vane, laughed demonically, and disappeared down the far side of the roof. Fearing what other devilment he might cause, I gave chase.

  “I suspect that it was moments later when you yourselves were awakened and looked out of your windows, just as you are doing now. Unfortunately, the demon eluded me for some time, and I was unable to return here.

  “When I did, however”—Mephisto’s voice took on a note of sadness—“I did not act honorably—fearing I would lose my accommodations if my secret were to get out. I was, in my own way, no better than the demon, slinking back to my room. I hid in the shadows and let an innocent boy take the blame. But guilt would not let me rest.” He looked directly at Eddie. “And I hope you will accept my apology.” Eddie smiled and nodded.

  “Now, if I may in some small way attempt to make restitution to the other parties involved.” Mephisto smiled broadly and pulled a covered dish from under his cape.

  “Cairo,” he called to the cat. “This is for you.” With a flourish he uncovered the dish and revealed a beautifully roasted fish.

  The cat poked his head from his favorite bush and mewed, but Mephisto could entice him no closer.

  “I can certainly understand your caution,” he said, and laughed. He placed the uncovered plate a few yards from the watchful cat. “This will be here when you want it.”

  “And now, Judge Washington,” Mephisto strode toward the judge’s house and bowed slightly. “Unfortunately, I cannot undo what has been done, nor can I turn back the hands of time and restore your once proud bird to his former self. I can, however, suggest a new beginning.” Reaching out, he seemed to produce a hen’s egg from the chilly predawn air.

  As chuckles and soft laughter rose from those watching, Mephisto pulled from his pocket a white cloth bag. He carefully placed the egg inside and then pulled the drawstring.

  “And now . . .” Suddenly the suitcase began to thump and bang again, and the growls this time seemed louder.

  “Dante.” Mephisto turned toward the valise. “What did I tell you?” The thumping became more violent, and Mephisto started to walk toward it. Suddenly the noise stopped. Mephisto paused, and waited. When convinced that the interruption was over, he smiled and raised his hand as if to begin again.

  “As I—” BOOM! The lid of the suitcase flew open, and an onlooker screamed. Frozen for a moment in the lantern light was a hairy, horned devil. Then the creature rose from the open trunk, casting a hellish shadow onto the fence behind. In another moment it bounded out across the yard, snatched the bag from Mephisto’s outstretched hand, and leapt into the nearest tree, where it disappeared among the branches.

  The magician barely had time to utter, “DANTE, STOP!” Before the demon dove from the tree to the edge of the barn roof. Bag in hand, he raced to the peak of the roof and climbed atop the weather vane. Holding the bag victoriously over his head, the demon laughed a hideous laugh, then hung the sack on one of the outstretched iron bars and vanished down the other side of the barn.

  “Not again!” Mephisto cried. Grabbing his suitcase, he headed off in hot pursuit. “I’m so sorry, but I must go!” And he, too, disappeared.

  The stunned silence was broken by Mrs. Murphy’s commanding voice. “GO AFTER HIM, ISAIAH!” Eddie recognized the boy he had spoken to in the backyard the day before, as the boy burst from the kitchen, flew down the porch steps, and tore off after Mephisto.

  A confused murmur was becoming audible when “HE’S GONE!” rang out. Isaiah was returning to the yard. “He’s just gone, I tell ya!”

  Then, almost with his next breath, he cried, “LOOK!” All eyes followed his pointing finger to the barn roof, where the cloth bag hung. Silhouetted against the dawn-brightened sky, IT MOVED!

  Instantly the judge was barking orders, and within minutes his servants had gotten the ladder. Just like the day before, one servant waited at its base while the other two made the climb. After straddling the roof’s peak to the weather vane, the first man reached out for the bag. When it jerked violently, he pulled back.

  “Just grab it and bring it down here!” shouted the judge.

  Holding the writhing bag at arm’s length, the first servant gladly handed the bag off to the man who had waited at the top of the ladder. He, in turn, breathed a loud sigh of relief when the man on the ground hesitatingly accepted the burden.

  Anticipation ran high in the small crowd of neighbors that had gathered around the impatient judge, who waited near the henhouse.

  “Well, open it!” he snapped as the last servant laid the dreadful bundle at the judge’s feet. The servant hesitated.

  “Oh, all right,” the judge barked, trying not to show any fear. “I’ll do it!” He had barely loosened the drawstring when a squawking, flapping mass shot out. Everyone, including the judge, jumped back.

  “Well, I never!” he exclaimed in disbelief, as a beautiful rooster fluttered to the ground.

  The handsome bird stood for a moment, ruffled his feathers into place, and took another short flight to the top of the nearest fence post. Tilting his head this way and that, he surveyed the poultry yard in typical rooster fashion. Then, fluffing himself up and flapping his wings, he broke the early dawn silence with a sun-raising “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

  The neighbors cheered, and even the judge seemed delighted. Slowly the little knot of people dressed in robes and nightshirts returned to their houses. Eddie alone had stayed inside, and he now sank back onto his bed as a dazed sense of relief and pride washed over him.

  “He did it!” Eddie sighed. “He actually saved my hide . . . and improved the act!”

  The sun was several hours higher in the sky when Eddie heard a soft knock at his bedroom door.

  “Master Eddie, it’s breakfast time.” Dap’s deep voice spoke from the other side.

  “Thanks, Dap. I’ll be right with you.” Unable to sleep, Eddie had been dressed for at least an hour, and was at the door ready to go do
wn much more promptly than usual. Dap beamed from the hallway.

  “I knew you didn’t do it, Master Eddie, but I never thought the devil was the real culprit.” They looked at each other, and then burst into relieved laughter.

  “Will you walk down with me, Dap?” Eddie asked, leaving his room.

  “I’d be glad to!” Dap gestured toward the stairway and smiled. “After you.”

  As they descended the staircase, Eddie imagined himself a victorious knight returning from a campaign, his faithful comrade by his side. Cheering throngs waved from the street and balconies as the two strode beneath flapping banners. Strewn rose petals carpeted the stairway and fluttered to rest on their hair and shoulders.

  Halfway down, Eddie breathed deeply. “Something smells delicious!” He exhaled.

  “Pancakes,” Dap said. “Miss Fannie knows they are your favorite, and ordered them special, so I expect you’ll be enjoying your breakfast.” He grew serious as they reached the dining room door. “But I’m not sure about Master Allan, though.” Eddie looked up at him, puzzled. “He’ll be eating crow.”

  Eddie clapped a hand over his mouth in an effort to stifle the eruption of laughter. Shoulders heaving, Dap turned away and walked quickly to the safety of the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath, Eddie composed himself, ran his hand over his hair, straightened his shoulders, and entered.

  “This ought to be fun!” McCobber whispered.

  “Eddie!” Fannie jumped up from her place at the table and ran to give him a hug. “We’re so sorry, Eddie. I knew you could never have done such a thing!” She hugged him again, and they took their seats.

  “Well, Edgar,” said John Allan, who had barely looked up from the newspaper he was reading, “it appears that you were spared a whipping, and by the devil’s own hand, at that.” He turned the page. “It seems appropriate somehow, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, you know what they say.” Eddie speared a stack of pancakes with a fork and put them on his plate. “The devil is in the details.”

  Fannie laughed, and then checked herself as Allan cleared his throat and looked up from his paper. “I’m not sure you are applying that adage correctly in this case.”

  “You might be right, sir.” Eddie watched with glowing delight as the maple syrup he poured from the warmed pitcher spilled over the pancakes and dripped down the sides of the stack. “Perhaps Shakespeare said it more eloquently.”

  “And how’s that?” Allan asked, lowering the paper.

  “‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.” Eddie took a bite and closed his eyes, enjoying the texture of the cakes, the taste of melted butter, the flavor of the syrup, and the extreme pleasure of the moment.

  “Sweet,” McCobber purred. “Very sweet!”

  Several weeks later, Eddie received a large envelope in the mail containing a theatrical poster and a short note:

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are a number of people who deserve recognition for their contributions behind the scenes.

  First of all, I would like to thank my friend and colleague, Tony DiTerlizzi, whose generosity and pivotal assistance helped turn a manuscript into a book. I would also like to thank Kevin Lewis, for his initial interest and infectious enthusiasm.

  At Simon & Schuster, I’d like to thank Courtney Bongiolatti for her editorial guidance, insight, and patience; Laurent Linn, whose great design sense, fine judgment, and helpful encouragement were all greatly appreciated; and Annie Zourzoukis for her copy editing expertise.

  I also had the help of some very patient and willing models: Tom Gianni, Karl and Patty Gustafson, and especially Morgan Wallace, who good-naturedly endured many a tiresome photo shoot.

  I am also indebted to nature photographer, Paul Lantz (paullantz.com), who generously allowed me the use of several of his stunning raven photographs as visual reference.

  Thanks to Jeff London and Gerta Sorensen-London for their technical advice.

  While doing research in Richmond, Virginia, I was assisted by Dana Angell Puga and Audrey C. Johnson at the Library of Virginia, and Megan Zeoli and Keith Kaufelt at the Poe Museum.

  I would also like to thank my good friends, Gary Gianni and Randy Broecker, whose enthusiastic support helped keep this project afloat when it was little more than a fleeting idea.

  And last, but definitely not least, my love and appreciation go to my wife, Patty, who from the first mention of a half-baked concept to the last pencil stroke on the final drawing, was there with constant encouragement. Her conscientious scanning of the artwork, artistic expertise, and technical support made this book possible. I could not have done it without her.