Part 21 (1/2)
”Nate warned me.”
”He's the one who made you wear it.”
”To keep me safe,” Bertie amended.
”From stupid Ariel,” Cobweb said.
”And all that disgusting kissing,” Mustardseed said.
Peaseblossom patted Bertie on the shoulder. ”Boys can be so dumb.” That evoked a protest in three-part harmony, but Peaseblossom spoke over them. ”It's true! You're dumb as rocks.”
Bertie put her forehead against her knees. ”This is all so screwed up,” she said into her jeans. ”Nate's been kidnapped, Ariel's vanished. The Book is missing. Management is going to kill me-”
In the middle of her quiet tirade, the lights died. Bertie looked up, startled, and the fairies froze. A low red glow came up onstage, accompanied by a violin's haunting protest. A gibbous moon rose slowly against the back wall as mist poured in from the wings.
Someone had called for a scene change.
Bertie put a finger to her lips, waiting to see who-or what-would enter. A trapdoor opened, and a figure rose to Center Stage.
”Through the house, give glimmering light by the dead and drowsy fire. A puff of wind is what we need to rouse the flames from slumber.”
The newcomer snapped his fingers. A thousand fire-streamers leapt into the air to scorch the overhanging limbs of a gnarled tree. Smoke billowed from behind its trunk in chemical clouds, while a sudden wind tore through the room with grasping claws. In seconds, the blistering combination of heat and air dried everything from the dripping seats to the blue-smudged tangle of Bertie's hair.
”It's Ariel,” she whispered. ”He finally answered the call.” Bertie saw then that he held The Book in his slim, white hands. Already it looked thinner, its leather cover set at a sad angle, and she wondered if the lighting onstage was indeed red, or if that was just murderous rage spilling over into her vision.
”What's the plan?” Mustardseed wanted to know.
”Now would be a good time to jump him,” said Cobweb. ”We still have the element of surprise.”
”For once, you're making sense.” Bertie exhaled hard through her nose. ”You distract him, and I'll smash his head in with one of those rocks.”
Peaseblossom shushed her. ”He's going to say something.”
”This Book has powerful magic, stronger than I ever could have imagined.” Ariel hovered next to the stones containing the blaze, reflections of flames dancing in the liquid black of his eyes. The smoke rose and twisted about him, tugging at his hair and his clothes, s.h.i.+fting, then settling about his shoulders like a cloak.
Bertie clutched the medallion and focused all her hatred and concentration upon him.
Show me what you really are, Ariel.
His form wavered; one second he was a great winged creature with glowing eyes and claws bared, the next no more than a breeze stirring the leaves. Then he was as he'd always been: terrifying and beautiful all at once.
”Perhaps,” he crooned to the open pages, ”the power of the stage can overcome your hold over me.” Moonlight painted him with a silver brush as he held The Book aloft. ”I call upon the winds of the world to stir the oceans and cover the sky with clouds. Uproot the trees, unseat the mountains, and cause the earth to groan. We shall, like mighty magicians, release the dead from this grave.” Thunder and lightning, but Ariel's voice rang clear over the din. ”I am one of the dead; let nothing bind me.”
He opened The Book to a random page, gripped it in his fist, and tore it out.
”No!” Bertie's scream of protest was lost as everything shuddered: the carved moldings, the proscenium arch, the ma.s.sive chandelier. She ran down the red-carpeted aisle and tried to make her voice heard over the noise. ”Take your entrance page and go!”
Ariel looked both surprised and ashamed for all of a millisecond before a familiar half-smile slid into place. He shook his head. ”Don't you think I've tried that? Mine is the only one that won't come out.”
”I don't understand. . . .”
”No,” he said softly, ”you don't. Not about any of it.”
”Ariel-”
”Hush,” he interrupted, ”I will show you.” He turned the pages of The Book until he arrived at one that seemed brighter than all the others. His fingers curled under the edges, gripped it until his knuckles shuddered in protest. He wrenched at it with visible effort, but it wouldn't budge. When he released the paper, not a single wrinkle marred its surface. ”Do you see?”
Bertie was afraid to ask, but the question voiced itself. ”What will you do?”
Ariel didn't answer. Instead, he flipped through The Book, grasped another page. When he tore it out, the heavy curtains on either side of the stage fell in velvet puddles.
Bertie reeled as though he'd stabbed her. ”Ariel, stop! The theater's magic is bound to The Book!”
”Precisely why I am going to tear the pages out, one by one, until its magic is broken, until it can no longer hold me.”
Bertie threw out her hand as though she could summon The Book to her by will alone. ”Give it to me, Ariel, before I break every bone in your body!”
”Every bone!” echoed the fairies as they rushed forward.
”Tell them to stay back, Bertie,” Ariel said. ”Or I'll summon a wind merely for the pleasure of pulping your friends against the nearest wall.”
”Do as he says.” Bertie never took her eyes off Ariel.
The fairies ducked behind a chair with great reluctance, but Bertie took deliberate steps toward him. Ariel held up his hand, gathering the winds behind him. She fought against the rising vortex of noise and chaos, but the power rushed over his shoulders to shove at her as though every wind fan and storm machine had been turned on.
”I said stay back!” he warned her.
”So help me,” she screamed into the tempest, ”I'll see you in chains before I let you destroy this place!”
Ariel shouted something in response as he disappeared behind the ma.s.sive, wooden waves that rolled in from Stage Right. Bertie tried to crawl over them, then around, but the water rose higher as wheels and gears spun and clanked.
”Come back here!” she shouted.
”Pull for sh.o.r.e, sailor!” cried an offstage voice. A boat filled with oar-wielding Mariners entered Stage Right.
Prospero, wizard hat askew and beard streaming in the wind, pointed a bony finger at Bertie. ”Have you seen Ariel, girl-child?”
”Yes!” She punctuated the word with wild gesticulating. ”He went behind that wave! Someone grab him!”
Prospero peered over the scenery. ”There's no one there. Don't play games with me! Do you know who I am?” He puffed out his chest with self-importance.
The fairies landed on Bertie's shoulders, no longer obliged to stay back.
”You're supposed to be Ariel's master,” Moth said.
”If this was a cla.s.s, you'd be flunking,” said Cobweb.
”What are these creatures babbling about?” the wizard sputtered.
”Ariel stole The Book,” Bertie said. She heaved herself over the side of the boat and landed in a tangle of hemp rope tied in intricate knots. ”I need to get it back.”