Part 25 (1/2)
”I hate what you did, Ariel. Help me to make it right.”
”I won't deny you,” he said, ”because I cannot. But don't think for a moment that I do it for you or this place.”
”Understood.” Bertie hardened her heart against him.
”What would you have me do first?” Ariel asked with a stilted bow.
”Go find me a quad-shot cappuccino.” Bertie turned her back on him, as clear a signal as any that she no longer considered him a threat; harder to admit, she feared she would cry if forced to look upon the defeated slump of his shoulders one second longer. She heard him move away and counted to three before she turned around.
Ariel was gone. At her feet, two of his red-and-gold familiars lay on the stage. Bertie knelt next to them.
I killed them, and Ariel's probably pa.s.sed out backstage because the d.a.m.n collar strangled him.
Bertie tasted something foul in the back of her throat. For a moment she thought she might throw up, but one b.u.t.terfly twitched its delicate antennae and the other fluttered its wings. With a shaky sigh, Bertie gathered them up before someone could squash them. Once in her hand, they recovered enough to crawl into her hair and perch there, like brilliant barrettes.
The fairies flew back onstage at full speed, preceding Ophelia.
”I got them, Bertie!” the water-maiden called.
Sure enough, the Department Managers were heading toward Bertie like a cavalry at full charge. The triumvirate collectively goggled at the pages, the a.s.sorted damage to the house, and Bertie's thoroughly disheveled appearance.
”What on earth-” Mrs. Edith started to say before words failed her.
”It looks worse than it is,” Bertie promised.
”I don't see how that is possible,” Mrs. Edith said, ”because it looks very, very bad indeed.”
”It's not her fault!” Peaseblossom rushed to Bertie's defense. The other fairies chimed in and, with a jumble of cross-corrections and one fistfight, they managed to bring the Managers up to speed. Bertie didn't interject so much as a peep of disagreement, even when they suggested that she'd cut off the Stage Manager's head and fed it to a crocodile.
”The magic is breaking,” she said at that juncture. ”We have to find a way to get the pages back in The Book before the Theatre falls apart.”
Mr. Hastings pursed his lips, scanning the amount of paper piled onstage with a professional eye. ”They should be filed straightaway, with every page in order.”
Mrs. Edith waved a pair of scissors under his nose. ”Anything I can't fix with my glue gun isn't possible to fix.”
Mr. Tibbs chomped on a replacement cigar and glowered at them. ”You're both off your heads. Get this rubbish off my stage so I can start repairing the floor.”
”It isn't rubbish, my dear Mr. Tibbs,” protested Mr. Hastings. ”Were you not attending? These are pages from The Book, for pity's sake!”
”I heard. Someone has got to clean this mess up, and right smart, too-”
”That's enough!” Bertie shouted over the top of them. Everyone fell silent, as startled by the order as by the authoritative steel in her voice. ”The only thing holding this place together is the last page, if I guess correctly.”
”Pages,” Peaseblossom corrected.
Bertie had nearly forgotten. ”That's right. There are two in The Book now.”
”But how'd the second one get in there?” Moth wanted to know.
”I don't know.” Bertie turned to the second page, running her index finger along the words. ”Sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
”It's a famous speech,” Mustardseed said.
”That's true. But why this famous speech? Why not the balcony scene, or Hamlet's speech to the Players?” The b.u.t.terflies opened and closed their wings, stirring a tiny wind in Bertie's hair. ”It was the one that Ariel quoted, right before we went to Venice.”
Cobweb wrinkled up his little forehead. ”So?”
”Ophelia!” Bertie pointed at the nearest stack of pages. ”Pick one up and read it to me.”
The rest of the Company ceased milling about aimlessly and suddenly looked very alert indeed as Ophelia cleared her throat.
”A little more than kin, and less than kind.” She paused. ”It's Hamlet's first line.”
Moth zoomed in, trying to be helpful. ”You're not reading it with the correct inflections.”
Ophelia tilted her head, a wicked gleam appearing in her eyes. When next she spoke, it was in perfect mimicry of the Danish prince. ” 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, nor customary suits of solemn black. Nor windy suspiration of forced breath. No, nor the fruitful river in the eye!”
The page in her hand faded around the edges. Bertie whispered, ”Keep going!”
”Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,” Ophelia bellowed. Bertie could see the water-maiden's hand through the paper now. ”Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief-”
The page vanished completely. The Managers yelped, the Chorus Members swore in amazement, and Bertie opened The Book. She was almost afraid to look, but the missing page was back inside, bound firmly, she found, when she tugged ever so gently at it. Underfoot, the largest of the cracks in the floor sealed over.
”That's it! That's how we get the pages back inside!” Bertie hugged Ophelia around the neck. ”You were brilliant!”
”Thank you.” The other girl turned a lovely shade of pink, the first color Bertie had ever seen on her that didn't come from a pot of rouge.
She couldn't linger over the transformation, though. ”Peaseblossom, take the boys and put a notice on the Call Board. I want everyone onstage immediately. We have to act the plays back into The Book.”
”All the plays?!” Peaseblossom looked aghast. ”Do you have any idea how long that will take?”
”Do you have any idea how long the Theatre will remaining standing if we don't do it?” Bertie asked.
”No,” the fairy answered.
”Neither do I, but it's a better option than leaving the pages all over the stage to molder and rot, with the magic scattered everywhere and the theater reduced to rubble. Right?”
”I guess so,” said Peaseblossom. ”At least it will give the Chorus Members something to do besides wander about.”
Bertie crooked a finger at Mr. Hastings, Mr. Tibbs, and Mrs. Edith. ”I need you three to get back to your Departments and hustle up the necessities for the performance. It's still going to happen.”
Before they could even twitch, the door at the back of the auditorium slammed open and everyone jumped. As someone stalked down the aisle, Bertie lifted her hand to block the glare from the footlights.