Fugitives of Chaos

Quentin said, "We can't steal a boat. It would make us vulnerable to a curse. We have to be careful about that."

Victor said, "I can borrow Lily's motorboat."

Vanity said, "I have a magic boat? When did I get a magic boat? What does it look like?"

Colin said, "Blackmail… who? Are we talking about Taffy? Boggin's henchman? The guy who hangs out here and does not seem to have a job, except for giving cigarettes and porn magazines to minors?"

I nodded. "He is actually a she, a goddess named Lav-erna, the queen of all fraud. She works for Lord Hermes, Trismegistus, who leads one of the factions of the Olympians, who fought a civil war, but were helping our side, except that I had a dream from your dad—I mean Morpheus—telling me we couldn't trust him. He was in our common room during the meeting of…"

Colin interrupted. "Does Victor, even with his normal memory back, does he know any of this backstory stuff you are telling us now?"

Victor shook his head.

Colin wagged a finger in my face. "No more talk about quitting as leader, then. Okay? If you try to resign again, I'll mutiny. Now, then! How do I get my powers back? What am I supposed to be able to do again?"

I said, "Write love letters. And I saw you jump nearly thirty feet straight up once. And maybe anything else you want. Your power works on desire. You wish it; it happens."

He closed his eyes, tilted back his head, spread his hands. "I wish I had my powers!"

We all looked at him.

He opened one eye. "Is something supposed to happen?"

I said, "I don't know!"

He closed his eye again. "I wish for a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich!" He held his hand up.

He wiggled his fingers. His hand stayed empty, of course.

He opened his eyes. "Is this like one of those monkey's paw things, where my Aunt Petunia is going to die in a plane crash and leave me the money to buy a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich?"

I said, "I think it has to be something you really, really want."

He closed his eyes again, spread his legs, and put his arms out as if he were ready to catch a sandbag or something about to be dropped on him. "Marilyn Monroe, as she was when she appeared in Seven Year Itch, naked from her bubble-bath, lonely, horny, and needing the warmth and comfort of an Irish schoolboy half her age! One, two, three… go! And she has her own birth control."

Quentin said, "You're not Irish."

Colin muttered, "I sure as hell am not English, thank God!"

"You are a monster from beyond space and time, shape-changed to look human."

"That just shows how little you know about the Irish, laddie. We're all monsters from beyond space and time. Besides, with a name like Colin…"

"You made that name up!"

Colin opened his eyes and put his hands on his hips. He turned away from Quentin and glowered at me.

"Where's my Marilyn?"

Vanity said, "Maybe you have to throw a gold pin in the well, or something."

Victor said sardonically, "Marilyn Monroe died in 1962. Isn't that exactly the monkey's paw kind of thing you were trying to avoid?"

Colin rolled his eyes and turned toward Victor. "I said, 'as she was in Seven Year Itch' ! That's the movie where her skirts blew up. She was alive during that scene."

I said, "Maybe it works more like psychic phenomena and less like just wishing. The desire has to come from the core of your being."

Colin said, "So… you're saying I should have wished for Catwoman?"

I goggled at him. "Who?"

"Supervillainess. Dresses all in skintight black leather. Wears heels. Carries a whip. Catwoman is ichiban

. The hottest."

Vanity pointed skyward, hopping and screaming. "Colin! Put your arms out! Here she comes! It's Julie Newmar! Catch her! Catch her!"

Colin's head jerked up. Vanity leaned over, picked up a handful of snow, and dashed it into Colin's face when he brought his gaze back down.

Colin smiled a nasty smile, picked up a double handful of snow, and started forward. Vanity squealed and danced around behind me, grabbing my shoulders. "Leader! Protect me!"

I put my hand up. "Okay, children! Playtime is over. Colin, put that snowball down."

"Down her cleavage, I will."

"Drop it."

"But she started it!"

"You're a big strong Irishman, and she's English, so she gets to oppress you. Okay? We are in the middle of an escape attempt. I do not want to lose anyone this evening. Colin, I do not know how to turn on your powers. I am not even sure what they are. We only have the amount of time it will take Boggin to fly up to the North, look around, and come back. That's assuming he didn't set additional guards around the Great Hall."

Quentin said, "He's at the burial mound."

A cold sensation passed over my neck. I looked at Quentin with mingled horror and respect. "It is really eerie when you do that. How do you know?"

Quentin said, "My friend told me. Every time Boggin moves, he has to tell the spirits in the air and wind where he is, so they know where to go to bring him news of what people are saying. So, every time he moves, he has to tell them all where he is going. This wand used to belong to Mrs. Wren. She used it to keep track of Boggin. Not all of her old spells are washed out of it. When my friend moved into the stick, the house wasn't empty."

I said, "Could it be another trap? Could it be bugged, I mean? Booby-trapped? Or giving you false information?"

Quentin said, "After the oath she swore to Romus? I doubt it. But it is possible. I can throw this stick into the ocean and pick up another one right now. You want me to? You are the leader. It is your decision."

It was not an easy decision. On the one hand, knowing where Boggin was, was of utmost importance to us. On the other hand, the danger that Erichtho the Witch could still have some sort of power or mysterious connection leading back to her wand…

I said to Quentin, "If this were a fairy tale, and you were a prince, what would you do?"

He smiled. "I am a prince. My father is Proteus, remember?"

"And?"

"I'd pitch it into the sea."

I said, "Throw it, then. But—wait a minute. See if you can remove the curse Mrs. Wren put on Colin.

You might be able to unblock his memory. The magic paradigm trumps the psychic paradigm."

Quentin nodded. "This involves a very brief demonstration."

He walked in a circle around Colin, dragging the distaff, and made a circle in the snow about him. He bowed to the West and held up the distaff in both hands.

"I call upon the guardians of the watchtowers of the West, the element of Water. I hold the power of the witch Erichtho in my hands, given to me from her, freely and without hurt. I hold here the curse she placed upon Pho-betor. Erichtho! I call you by your true name! The Guardians of the Towers of the West break your power in two! Hesperides, lave Phobetor in your wave, and let him emerge unhurt, washed clean, stainless, and forgiven! So Mote It Be!"

And he cracked the distaff in half over his knee.

He threw the two halves of the distaff spinning into the waters far below, calling out, "This gift I give to the Sons of Danu, who dwell in the waters of the West, in memory of promises kept."

He reached over with his foot and rubbed out part of the line he had drawn in the snow around Colin.

"The wall around you is broken. Be free."

Colin clutched his head, rolling his eyes like a maddened horse, and doubled over, groaning.

Quentin stepped forward, looking worried. Victor said, "Did it work? Are your memories coming back?"

Colin straightened up, brushing his hands through his hair. "Naw. Just joking around. But that was a damn impressive ceremony, Big Q. Thanks for trying, at least."