After awhile, the steady rhythm of Toby’s breathing soothed Mr. Punch to sleep. As soon as Robert had retired to his own room, Punch had crawled into the bed next to his puppet and the slumbering dog. His mind began to wander as he considered everything that Robert had just told him. Would their plan really work? Would it put Adrienne in too much danger? Could they really defeat Iolanthe Evangeline? What about the undoubted presence of Julian’s mother? Mr. Punch was certain that the Duchess of Fallbridge had arrived in New Orleans. With all of these thoughts racing through his mind just above the usual chatter and noise which always plagued him, his exhausted body shut down.
That night, Mr. Punch dreamed vividly and clearly. The images which played behind his eyes were so sharp and clear that they could not have come solely from Mr. Punch. No—somewhere deep within the body that they shared, Julian, too, was asleep. And, he, too, was dreaming.
At first the dream wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was rather a warm scene—filled with delicious food and laughter. Sausages and eggs and bread and cheese with no crocodiles in sight to snatch any of it away. Punch dreamt that he and Toby and Robert enjoyed a feast. They were sitting on a grand, deep-green lawn. Was it a park? No. It was the land near Fallbridge Hall. The realization made Julian’s body shiver, and suddenly made the dream go dark. In his vision, Toby was suddenly gone. So was Robert. Punch heard a baby cry. Was it Fuller? Or was it Barbara’s child—the one that the Cages had named, “Holt?” Or was it Barbara herself—once again, in this dream-world, returned to a child so that Julian could have had some influence on her. As the dream baby wailed, the skies above Fallbridge Hall grew dark and heavy with clouds. Suddenly, Mr. Punch became aware that his body had changed. He was once again shaped like a puppet—only, he was the size of a man. He couldn’t see very well past his hooked nose, a nose so bent that it touched his equally distorted chin. But, his costume wasn’t that of Mr. Punch. No, he was dressed in the armor of St. George. And, there was the dragon.
A hideous beast swelled behind the Hall. It rose on its monstrous legs and roared—three heads. Three awful heads. One—the face of Iolanthe Evangeline. Another—the face of Ulrika Rittenhouse. The middle—the largest and most horrible—the face of the Duchess herself.
In the Duchess’ teeth hung the limp body of Barbara Allen. From Ulrika’s mouth, the blood of Arthur and Agnes Rittenhouse dripped like water from a fountain. From the mouth of the ogress, Adrienne and Cecil dangled—screaming for help.
“Robert!” Punch called in his sleep. “Chum? I need you!”
Suddenly, the dark sky exploded in a wash of fire as if the sun itself had burst open like a rotten fruit. From the center of it, Naasir floated freely out. He was followed by two others—people with skin as dark as his own. Mr. Punch didn’t know them. But, he heard Marjani’s voice. He could not see her, but he heard her voice. “This is my daughter. This is her husband. They’ve gone to the sky, Mr. Punch. They’ve gone to the sky.”
The three-headed dragon roared again, spewing fire from six nostrils. Yet, Naasir and his companions walked right through it—untouched. Just as they reached the earth, they disappeared.
The monster drew nearer to Mr. Punch. Again, the baby cried.
“I beat the Devil!” Mr. Punch shouted to the beast. “I could beat you, I could!”
Fire shot from the heads of the foul creature.
Mr. Punch awoke with a start. The burns on his legs itched horribly. He grunted.
Toby rolled over and licked Julian’s cheek before drifting back to sleep.
“I can beat the Devil.” Mr. Punch muttered to himself. He put a protective arm around Toby and glanced up to make sure his puppet was still in bed next to them. “I can.”
At that very moment, at her bawdy house, Iolanthe Evangeline was holding the Duchess by her arm. She growled in the woman’s face. Pauline’s usual iciness had melted and she was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Let me go,” The duchess pleaded.
“Never.” Iolanthe hissed cruelly. “I’ll ask you again. Will you be my partner in this or will you not?”
“If I say that I won’t?”
“Then, I’ll make sure you never say another word as long as you live. The memory that the world will have of you will be the one that I create for you.” Iolanthe whispered.
“I’ll join you.” Pauline said breathlessly.
“Good.” Iolanthe released the woman from her grasp. “We’ll start now.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-109? If so, you can read them here.
