When Johann sat up this time, he saw the beast.
It was so tall that it nearly touched the ceiling with its head, which was as shaggy as that of a prehistoric ox, with two spiraled horns growing from its forehead. Its fur was black, and a long tail whipped through the cave, causing sparks to fly. The beast walked on two legs like a man, but its back was bent, the claws on its fingers reaching almost to the ground.
It’s the fumes, thought Johann. The fumes in the cave are making me hallucinate.
And at the same time he knew that this was Tonio’s true shape—the shape that had come before all the others.
The shape of the devil.
“Where is my daughter?” asked Johann. “Where are Karl and my grandson?”
The beast made a deep droning sound, a kind of sigh.
“What is it to you, Faustus? There is only you and me. When will you finally understand? Nothing else matters.”
“That isn’t true!” Even though his head was thumping and his limbs felt as soft as honey, Johann managed to get to his feet. “Where are they? Where is . . . where is my family?”
“I am your family. Always have been. The others are but embellishments in the story of you and me.” The beast gestured behind himself. Now Johann saw some human bundles in the corner, dumped there like pieces of wood. He froze.
“Are they . . . ?” he asked.
“Dead? Not quite, though there isn’t much life left in them. The toxic breath rising from the cracks is weakest back there. Shall I let them go? Is that what you want?”
Hope stirred in Johann. “You . . . would let them go?” he asked slowly.
“What am I? A kindly god with a big bushy beard? The silly old fellow?” The beast roared with laughter until several small stones from the mosaics fell from the ceiling. “You weren’t particularly obedient, son, and played a fair few tricks on me. Why should I do you a favor? At Nuremberg, when the stars were favorable, I could have returned with your help—in my true shape. Instead I am still but a shadow, an outline on the walls of a cave. But all that is going to change soon, very soon!”
The beast leaned over Johann and sniffed him like a deer its newborn fawn. “What will you give me if I let your three little humans go? You know you can trade with me. I love bartering! War, trade, and piracy, they are a trinity indeed, inseparable. What will you give me?”
Trembling, Johann pulled out the little silver globe from beneath his shirt and held it up. He was standing right before the beast now, a small man in front of an enormous, supernatural monstrosity. Carefully he opened the pendant and pulled out the fragile paper.
“Ah, that’s how I know the learned man,” droned the beast. “Leonardo’s formula. The legendary igró pir. I offered him a pact, just like you, but he thought he could play a trick on me and fled to France. As if anyone can flee from me!” The beast laughed again, and slaver as caustic as acid dripped to the floor. “So you found the formula. Well done, my son. It will help me to drown this world in chaos even faster. Men are exceptional students of the devil.” The beast snarled, its eyes glowing like red embers and its tail whipping across the floor like a furious snake. “But I’m afraid this won’t be enough.”
“Won’t be enough?” Johann withdrew the hand with the paper. “What else do you want?”
The beast leaned down to him until it was very close. Johann felt the hot breath of hell brush over him. “Don’t you already know, little Faustus? I want you. The two of us are going to rule over this world: father, son, and an unholy ghost.”
The beast laughed, stars shining in his eyes, yes, entire galaxies.
“Come back into the arms of your father, and I promise you I’m going to make you even more famous than you already are. I will make you richer than a king and mightier than a pope. Together we will set the world on fire! You must leave everything behind. Love is all that stands in your way!”
Johann slowly took a few steps back. He was very close to the spot where he wanted to be—where the flames were lapping out of the ground. Some of the cracks ran deep into the earth, and Johann had seen a blue-and-red glowing far below.
How far down might those cracks reach? wondered Johann. All the way to hell?
“Very well, you may have me!” he declared loudly. “And the formula. If you let the other three go. This is my promise.” Carefully he folded the piece of paper again and replaced it inside the globe while the beast waited, visibly impatient. Finally Johann held the small silver pendant up high and said in a loud and firm voice: “This world shall be yours, and I shall be yours until the end of this world. In return, the others walk free.”
The beast’s claw jerked forward, but Johann pulled back his hand. An angry growl vibrated through the grotto.
“Don’t play games with me!” snarled the beast.
“Say it!” demanded Johann. “I want to hear it from your mouth! We both know that words bind you. There are some ancient rules that even you must obey. So say it!” He held up the globe as if he were trying to tempt a bear with a pot of honey. “Say it!”
And the beast spoke the words: “This world shall be mine, and
