Dead and Alive

this dark and lonely place?
    He read her clearly, because he said, “Well, it’s dark and it’s lonely, but we’ve been through crazy for three days, and I think we’re coming out the other side tonight. I say trust Deucalion and the Duke.”

CHAPTER 52
    ERIKA CARRIED JOCKO from the windowless Victorian drawing room, along the secret passageway.
    When the troll passed out, he passed
way
out. He fell so deep into unconsciousness that during this short vacation from awareness, he must have had a room with a view of death.
    As limp as rags, his body draped over her cradling arms. Head lolling, mouth open, flaps flopping, he held an iridescent bubble between his teeth, and it didn’t pop until she settled him in an armchair in the library.
    Jocko remained the antithesis of beauty If any child were to come upon him accidentally, the unfortunate tyke might need years to regain control of his bladder and would be traumatized for life.
    Yet Jocko’s vulnerability, his effervescence, and his touching perseverance endeared him to Erika. Somewhatto her surprise, her affection for the troll grew by the hour.
    If this mansion were a cottage in the woods, if Jocko frequently broke into song, and if there were six more of him, Erika would have been a real-life Snow White.
    She returned to the windowless drawing room. From the threshold, she stared for a moment at the shapeless shadow nesting within the radiant reddish-gold substance.
    The care taken with the decor suggested that Victor came here regularly to sit at length with the creature in the glass casket. If he spent little time in this room, he would not have furnished it so cozily.
    She closed the steel door and engaged the five deadbolts. At the end of the hall that bristled with rods, she closed the next door and bolted it, as well.
    When she returned to the library, where the pivoting section of bookshelves rotated into place, concealing all beyond it, Erika found that Jocko had regained consciousness. Feet dangling well short of the floor, arms on the arms of the chair, he was sitting up straight, clutching the upholstery with both hands, as if he were on a roller coaster, nervously anticipating the next plunge.
    “How do you feel, Jocko?”
    He said, “Pecked.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Like, say, ten birds want to peck your head, you try to protect yourself, their wings flutter against yourhands and arms, flutter-flutter-flutter against your face. Jocko feels fluttery all over.”
    “Have you ever been attacked by birds?”
    “Only when they see me.”
    “That sounds horrible.”
    “Well, it just happens when Jocko’s in open air. And mostly in daylight, only once at night. Well, twice if bats count as birds.”
    “There’s a bar here in the library. Maybe a drink will settle your nerves.”
    “Do you have storm-drain water with interesting sediment?”
    “I’m afraid we only have bottled water or from the tap.”
    “Oh. Then I’ll have Scotch.”
    “You want that on the rocks?”
    “No. Just some ice, please.”
    Moments later, as Erika gave Jocko his drink, her cell phone rang. “Only Victor has this number.”
    She thought that Jocko’s voice had a note of bitterness in it when he muttered, “He who made he who I was,” but she may have been imagining it.
    She fished the phone from a pocket of her slacks. “Hello?”
    “We’re leaving New Orleans for a while,” Victor said. “We’re leaving immediately.”
    Because her husband sometimes found questions impertinent, Erika didn’t ask why they were leaving, but said simply, “All right.”
    “I’m already on my way to the tank farm. You’ll go there in the bigger Mercedes SUV, the GL550.”
    “Yes, Victor. Tomorrow?”
    “Don’t be stupid. I said ‘immediately.’ Tonight. Within the hour. Pack two weeks’ clothes for yourself. Get the staff to help. You’ve got to move fast.”
    “And should I bring clothes for you?”
    “I have a wardrobe at the farm. Just shut up and listen.”
    Victor told her where to find the mansion’s walk-in safe and explained what she should bring from it.
    Then he said, “When you go outside, look to the northwest, the sky is burning,” and he terminated the call.
    Erika closed her phone and stood in thought for a moment.
    In the armchair, Jocko said, “Is he mean to you?”
    “He … is who he is,” she replied. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    French doors opened from the library to a covered terrace. As Erika