From the hidden “room” deep inside the body he shared with Mr. Punch, the real Duke of Fallbridge began to panic as he became aware of what was happening outside their mortal shell. The rich aroma of fire flooded the imaginary room, and with it, the cacophony of screams stabbed inward.
Julian’s eyes narrowed as he squinted as if doing so would allow him to better understand what was happening.
“Punch?” Julian shouted. “Punch? What’s happening?”
“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, Master.” Punch replied.
“What’s that?” Marie Laveau asked. Still holding Mr. Punch’s hand, she looked at him as he spoke—unaware that he was responding to an unheard question from a voice that only he could hear.
“Nothin’.” Punch spoke again.
“You’re talkin’ to him, ain’t ya?” Marie whispered.
“You know about me master?” Punch asked.
“Sure.” Marie nodded. “We all know. You’re two men. The Great Man of the Rocks.”
“Coo!” Punch gasped. “You sound like…”
“Naasir?” Marie smiled.
“Yep.” Punch nodded. “Did you know him?”
“No.” Marie shook her head. “Not the man himself—only of him. We all know of him, and you.”
Robert interrupted. “So, you’re aware of the legend of which Naasir often spoke?”
“I was told the stories when I was a girl—the tales of the Great Man of the Rocks who was destined to fight the beast.”
“Did you know you was part of that beast?” Punch asked.
“I did.”
“So, that’s why you been fightin’ us all this time?” Punch asked, tightening his grip on Marie’s hand.
“Yes.” Marie nodded. “But, I realize now that I’m the one…”
“What one?”
“The story is written.” Marie replied softly. “In the legend, the colorful head of the monster—bright with orange, green, purple and red—is said to turn to flowers and fall upon the land and from those petals, good will arise. I am the head of the beast, Your Grace. I didn’t know it until now.”
Robert began to speak, but Punch shook his head.
“I believe you, scary Chum.” Punch nodded.
“If you know the legend,” Robert interrupted, “you know that Naasir said that the Great Man of the Rocks would meet his end in fire.”
“I know.” Marie said.
From within, Punch heard Julian’s panicked voice. “Don’t trust her!”
“I must, Master.” Punch said aloud, hoping Julian would hear him. “It’s like Naasir said.”
“Comfort him, Sir.” Marie nodded.
“I’m tryin’.”
From behind them, Charles began to shout. “Are we going to stand here talking while we burn to death?”
“No, impatient one,” Marie shook her head.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Charles shrieked.
“Get a hold of yourself, man!” Robert scolded. Charles bit his own lips to keep from talking.
“I know what I must do.” Marie smiled. “All this time I’ve wasted…”
“What do you mean?” Robert asked.
“All this time, I thought that Iolanthe was…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I know now that I am the head and I must blanket the way for the Man of the Rocks. This changes everything. But, it is written.”
Marie released Mr. Punch’s hand. She spun around and ripped the quilt off of Charles’ bed, wrapping herself in it.
“Take the pitcher from the washstand, Doctor.” She said.
Robert lifted the pitcher.
“Now, douse the quilt with the water.” Marie commanded.
Robert did as instructed. As he did, the colored fabric of the quilt deepened—red, orange, purple, green in rich, dark hues.
“Walk on me.” Marie smiled proudly.
“Huh?” Punch grunted.
With that, Marie threw herself over the smoldering pile of rubble which blocked the doorway. As she did, the quilt in which she was wrapped began to steam and spit.
“Hurry!” She moaned.
Did you miss Chapters 1-469? If so, you can read them here.
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