Shakespeare looked from me to Lizzy to Elegy. “Am I dreaming?”
“Sure!” said Elegy. “If we shadows have offended—” she gestured to the three of us—”think but this and all is mended. That you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear.”
“That’s not bad,” Shakespeare muttered. “Do you have a pen?”
“I thought you said not to quote,” I said to Elegy.
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m breaking all the rules,” she told me. She turned back to Shakespeare. “The point is, you can’t let any of the things I said to you freak you out so much that you stop writing plays.”
“Not much point in writing plays right now, is there?” Shakespeare asked. “The plague closed down all the theaters, didn’t it?”
“It won’t last forever,” said Elegy. “It’s important that you write. People like your plays. A lot.”
“No, they don’t,” said Shakespeare.
“Okay,” said Elegy, “well, people will like your plays. In the future. For hundreds and hundreds of years. All the way up until the fiftieth century when people completely stop using words and just mind-beam into each other’s heads.”
“What?” I said.
“Oh, someday we’ll go there,” she said to me. “It will be very strange for you, probably. Language as you know it ceases to exist.”
Shakespeare just laughed. “You’re a crazy woman, or I’m dreaming you, or both. As if people would stop using words.”
Elegy folded her arms over her chest.
“And no one likes my plays,” said Shakespeare. “They aren’t going to last that long.”
“‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,’“ said Elegy. “Have you written that one yet? ‘So long lives this’? You knew it would last forever. That’s why you wrote it.”
Shakespeare’s eyes got wide. He got out of his chair. “You’re in my head. You’ve got to be.” He glared at Lizzy. “Although why you’re here, I don’t know.”
“I’m your guilty conscience,” she spat out.
Guilty conscience? Whoa, this was getting good. I sat down at a chair at the table, riveted.
Shakespeare rolled his eyes. “I never did a thing with you, Lizzy, that would make me feel guilty. Until I started feeling this unnatural love which you all seem to know so much about, there wasn’t much I did feel guilty about. Now everything’s confusing.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Love? Lizzy, does that mean that you and Shakespeare, you know...?”
She stuck her finger in my face. “You, shut up.”
“Oh. My. God,” I squealed. “That is so cool.”
“It is?” said Shakespeare. He eyed me. Then he looked at Elegy. “You aren’t kidding about people liking my work in the future are you?”
“I’m not,” said Elegy. “So you won’t stop writing, then? And you’ll make sure no one catches you fooling around with your boyfriend? Otherwise, things will get really screwed up.”
“Those sonnets too?” Shakespeare said. “I wasn’t planning on ever showing them to anyone. Some of them are really bad. Dreadful, in fact.”
“The sonnets too,” said Elegy.
“Hmm,” said Shakespeare. “Might I have some more of that ale you gave me before?”
“Sure,” said Elegy, getting up to fill up another tankard.
Shakespeare looked at me. “So, tell me, which one of my plays is the most popular?”
“Hamlet,” I said.
“Don’t say anything,” said Elegy, bringing back the tankard and setting it in front of Shakespeare.
“Hamlet?” he said, making a confused face.
“You haven’t written it yet,” said Elegy.
“But why would I call it Hamlet?” said Shakespeare. “I have a son named Hamnet. What kind of idiot calls their most famous play something that sounds just like the name of his own son?”
Elegy cringed. “Look, it’s not a good idea for you to know too much about your future.”
“Why not?”
“You might screw it up,” said Elegy. “You might go home now and start trying to write some play called Hamlet, and then the Hamlet we know never gets written, and all of time is changed forever. That’s very bad.”
Shakespeare considered. “I suppose you’re right.” He took a long drink out of his tankard. “But I’m famous, you say?”
“Oh, that is so like you,” said Lizzy. “It’s always all about you. You’re the most selfish asshole I ever met.” She got up and refilled her wine glass. “Is it all fixed then? Can we get rid of him?”
I was kind of enjoying talking to Shakespeare. This was a big deal for me. Why did Lizzy want him to leave already?
“Don’t be so rude, Lizzy,” said Shakespeare. “I haven’t finished my drink yet.”
Lizzy took a gulp of wine. “Rude? Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
“Lizzy,” said Elegy, “maybe you should lay off the wine a little right now.”
Lizzy took another big drink, giving Elegy a defiant look.
“I don’t know why you’re being such a cunt,” Shakespeare said to Lizzy. “When you convinced me to come here with you, you were being very friendly.”
“That’s only because I was trying to save you from the time traveler who was trying to tell the world you were gay,” said Lizzy.
“I’m not gay,” said Shakepeare. “You of all people should know that.”
What had happened between them? Where was my spiced wine drink? I wanted to sip it and watch this unfold. It was better than television.
“So that’s why you’re having sex with a man,” said Lizzy.
Shakespeare shook his head, tipping back his tankard for another drink. “Are you jealous, Lizzy? Is that it?”
“Oh no,” she said. “He can have you. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
“That’s enough,” Shakespeare said. “One thing I never could stand about you was your prattling mouth. You never shut up.”
“I never shut up?” Lizzy said. “You’re the writer. Always talking about whatever idea you’re working on, as if anyone really cares about any of it.”
Shakespeare gestured at Elegy and me. “They seem to think people care about my ideas. They seem to think people care a lot.”
“Yes, well, it’s fabulous that you’ll be leaving us with such a huge head. You thought highly enough of yourself before this.” Lizzy finished her wine.
“When I said stop talking, I meant it.” Shakespeare’s expression darkened.
“I’ll talk all I want.”
“I’ve warned you, Lizzy.”
“Get over yourself.”
Shakespeare’s hand shot out. His open palm collided with Lizzy’s cheek with a loud smacking sound. He’d just slapped her!
Elegy and I were both on our feet.
“That’s crossing the line,” Elegy said. “I know this time period isn’t big on women’s rights, but you can’t slap Lizzy in my bar. I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Your bar?” said Shakespeare, standing up himself. “I know you don’t own the bar, little woman. You can’t make me leave if I don’t want to.”
“Can’t I?” asked Elegy.
“You’re just three women. What do you think you’re going to do? Scratch me to death?” Shakespeare laughed, scooping up his tankard and taking a drink.
“You shouldn’t hit people,” I said. “My boyfriend Richard hit me. He would have killed me if Elegy hadn’t stopped him. I’m not sure if I like you very much, Shakespeare.”
He clutched his heart in an exaggerated gesture. “You wound me to my core.”
“Just leave,” said Elegy.
“I’m finishing my drink,” said Shakespeare.
“I’m fine,” said Lizzy, still rubbing her jaw. “A slap’s nothing compared to what else he did to me. What he’s probably done to lots of women in London.”
“What did he do?” I asked Lizzy, still glaring at Shakespeare. I c
ouldn’t believe the guy was such a jerk. And he was gay too. Well. Sort of.
Shakespeare slammed his drink down on the table and turned on Lizzy. “I didn’t do a damned thing to you.”
“Oh, you would say that, you self-important asshole,” Lizzy said.
Shakespeare lifted his hand again, but Elegy was next to him in a second, grabbing his wrist.
“I wouldn’t,” Elegy said. Her voice was ice.
Shakespeare shook Elegy off. “You were a bar wench, for God’s sake. You came on to me.”
Lizzy’s face was twisting. She looked like she might cry. “I loved you.”
“You knew I was married!”
“And that stuff you made me drink to get rid of the baby nearly killed me. I was in bed for a month. I lost so much blood.” Lizzy’s voice was pained and high-pitched.
My heart went out to her. He’d forced her to get rid of a child? In a nasty, dangerous way? I suddenly had a newfound appreciation for Roe v. Wade. I reached for her.
But Elegy was livid. “You did what?” Her eyes turned a strange, glowing white color. They beamed out from her face. And out of nowhere, a strong wind whipped through the bar, blowing her hair back from her face. She threw her arms out, and she was terrible and beautiful all at the same time, like an avenging angel or a... well, a goddess. Which I guessed she was. But she’d always seemed so pedestrian before. And kind of silly. Now, as I watched her, I found myself cringing away from her awful beauty, wishing I could hide.
Shakespeare was transfixed, gazing into her face, his eyes wide, his mouth open in terror.
“No one hurts my volurs that way,” said Elegy. Her voice had a strange echoey quality. It boomed throughout the bar. “You are wretched and pathetic. You don’t deserve to be saved. You don’t deserve my help. You insect. You rodent. You scum.” She brought her hands together in front of Shakespeare’s face. There was a bright flash, a loud crack.
The floor shook beneath my feet, and I fell back, hiding my eyes. When I looked up, Shakespeare was stumbling backwards, a dazed expression on his face.
The door to the bar blew open, and Shakespeare staggered through it.
It slammed shut after him.
And the bar was once again a 1980s sports bar. And “Hair of the Dog” by Nazareth was blaring through the speakers. Elegy brushed her hands together. She smiled at us. “Good riddance,” she muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lizzy was on the floor like I was. We both got to our feet. One look at Lizzy’s expression let me know that she was just as stunned as me.
“Elegy—” began Lizzy.
“What? You want wine?” asked Elegy. “Coming right up.”
Lizzy and I exchanged a look. Cautiously, we approached the bar.
“What did you do to him?” I asked.
Elegy shrugged as she poured Lizzy some wine. “I scared him. I scared him a lot, I guess. There aren’t any more Shakespeare plays. He doesn’t write after that. He can hardly feed himself.”
Lizzy and I exchanged another look.
My rum runner was sitting unfinished on the bar. I guess it had turned back into a rum runner, instead of the spiced wine thing it had been before. I picked it up and took a sip. It was a little warm, but it still tasted good. Elegy had just changed history. That was bad. I thought.
“That isn’t a good thing, Elegy,” said Lizzy, confirming my thoughts. “That’s not Shakespeare’s fate, is it?”
Elegy shrugged. “It is now.”
“But won’t that... mess things up?” I asked.
Elegy got a shot glass and set it front of herself. “He’s a jerk. He doesn’t deserve to be the most famous author in the English language. He hurt Lizzy. He almost killed Lizzy. I don’t really have any sympathy for the prick.” She poured herself a shot of whiskey and downed it.
I stared into my drink. “So, it’s like when you messed up fate to save me from Richard. But you said you did that because you were lonely. Why’d you do this?”
Elegy refilled her shot glass. “I don’t know, okay? I just did. I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Let’s go to the ‘70s and pick up some Studio 54 rejects.”
* * *
“Stayin’ Alive” by the BeeGees was blaring over the bar’s speakers. Elegy had transformed the place into a disco. She was dancing in the middle of the floor with a bunch of guys who looked like they belonged in The Village People. We’d picked them up outside Studio 54. Elegy had just opened the door of the bar and yelled at the people who were waiting outside Studio 54 to come party in her bar instead. Not very many of them had come over. I guessed being in line at Studio 54 was cooler than actually getting to drink and dance somewhere.
Lizzy and I were nursing drinks in the darkness. We sat on bar stools, watching Elegy.
“Has she ever done anything like this before?” I asked Lizzy.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Lizzy. “But you know she can’t leave the bar because it’s a prison for her, don’t you? She’s sentenced to go around in time fixing messes as a punishment. So she must have done something wrong. Maybe it was something like that. Maybe she’s dangerous.”
“She doesn’t seem dangerous,” I said.
“I didn’t think she even really liked me,” said Lizzy. “I can’t believe she defended me like that. Usually, she strikes me as someone who doesn’t really care, you know?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Like she has no feelings.”
“I always figured it was because she was a Fate.”
“So maybe she does have feelings. Maybe she does care.”
“Yeah, but erasing Shakespeare from the time continuum?” said Lizzy. “I didn’t like the guy. He was a jerk. But doing that affects way more than just Shakespeare, you know? It’s a big deal.”
She was right. I watched her, feeling a little worried. Lizzy got to leave the bar, but I didn’t. I was stuck with Elegy. All the time. For I didn’t know how long. Possibly forever. Was she mentally unstable? Would she do that glowy-eyed windy thing to me if I pissed her off? “Just think,” I said. “We’re the only people in this bar who have even heard of Romeo and Juliet.”
Lizzy sighed. “I’ve got to admit it. That’s kind of sad.”
Elegy danced over to us, drink in hand. I cowered, even though she was looking pretty amiable just then.
“What’s up, guys?” Elegy asked. “Why aren’t you living it up? It’s disco. Come on. Dance!”
Lizzy groaned. “I hate disco.”
Elegy took a step back. “Seriously? How can you hate disco? What’s not to love about disco?”
Lizzy heaved a huge sigh. “There’s no Shakespeare, but disco survives. I suppose this is some version of hell.”
Elegy’s jaw dropped. “Hey, I did that for you, you know.”
Lizzy got up off her bar stool. “How does it help me if Shakespeare doesn’t write any plays? He still screwed me over before I was a volur. It doesn’t fix anything.”
“It’s justice,” said Elegy. “I thought you’d be grateful. I can’t figure you humans out.”
“I can’t figure you out. First you’re saving this one—” Lizzy jerked her thumb at me—”from dying, then you’re messing with history. What is going on with you? You’re the instrument of destiny. I’ve heard you lecture about the importance of fate a gazillion times. You can’t just change everything because you think it’s not fair.”
Elegy smirked. “Who says I can’t? Who made that rule? I was a Fate. I made the rules. I got to decide what happened in people’s lives. And now, I’m traveling around in a bar that I can’t leave trying to help humans...” She trailed off in disgust. “You people are infecting me. That’s what’s going on. Every day it gets worse.” She turned around to face the dancing Studio 54 rejects. Abruptly, the music cut off , the disco ball disappeared, and the lights came up. “Closing time!” she yelled at them. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
We were all silent as the people t
rooped out of the bar.
When they were gone, Elegy snapped her head back to glare at us. “You don’t like that I saved Catherine? Fine. I take it back.” She marched over to me and grabbed my collar. Pulling me off my barstool, she started to drag me towards the door of the bar. “I’ll throw her out into the world and fate will take care of her. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I said. “No, I’m fine with being alive. Lizzy’s sorry, Elegy. She didn’t mean it. Be as irrational as you want. We don’t mind. Who needs Shakespeare anyway?”
“Don’t be idiotic, Elegy,” said Lizzy. “You aren’t going to throw her out of the bar. I know who she is. He’ll be pissed when he finds out you saved her, but he’d be really pissed if he found out you saved her and then killed her.”
He? Who was Lizzy talking about? And what she mean, she knew who I was?
Elegy let go of me. “Who says I did it for him?”
Lizzy just shook her head and chuckled. “Shakespeare was a real prick, okay? But all men were like that to me back then. He wasn’t one of the worst. And I did care about him, you know? Maybe you can understand that, if you can’t understand anything else.”
“How could you care about a man who nearly poisoned you to death?” Elegy said.
“He was trying to help me,” said Lizzy. “If anyone had found out I was pregnant, I would have been ruined. I would have become a prostitute. I’d probably have contracted syphilis and gone insane.”
“You want me to fix it, don’t you?” said Elegy.
I help up a hand. “Hold on a second. Can we rewind this conversation? Who am I exactly?”
They ignored me.
“I wanted him to suffer, but not this much,” said Lizzy. “Not his art. And he was right. I knew he was married when I got involved with him. And back then, men didn’t get divorces unless they were Henry the Eighth. It was a hopeless situation.”
“I only wanted to help you,” said Elegy. “I thought you’d...”
“I do,” said Lizzy. “Actually, in your own way, it’s very sweet. Thank you for thinking of me by destroying my ex’s entire life.”
Elegy rolled her eyes. “When you put it like that, I guess it sounds psychotic.”
“Um,” I said, “about who I am. Am I someone important? Can we talk about that?”
Adventures of Elegy Flynn Page 5