Gareth, in the white robes of an Arabian prince, stared at her incredulously. “You look, my love, as if you had just dropped from another world.”
“Perhaps I have.” She gave him a roguish smile.
“I’m ready to believe that. I think I always have.”
“What can you mean by that?” She had meant to speak lightly but could not quite achieve the proper tone.
“I’m not sure,” he mused. “I wish the music would go on forever.”
“Nothing goes on forever.”
“I...” He paused, frowning as a Pierrot in wine-splattered white satin and a Columbine in a wilted net tutu careened into them, nearly knocking them to the floor. “Damn you, Dane, why the hell don’t you look where you’re going!” Gareth exclaimed furiously.
“Sorry, Gary.” The Pierrot turned a handsome, boyish and very famous face toward him. Juliet recognized him as Dane Fuller, a talented and popular actor with a flair for comedy on screen and a penchant for trouble off. He was with Helena Browning, his sometime leading lady and, some said, his partner in disaster. Though she had the serene beauty of a madonna, at least when her face was in repose which it practically never was, she was known for her comic and cruel impersonations. She was also known for drinking the night away and burning her candle at both ends.
Looking at her, as she blushingly and tipsily apologized for slamming against them, Juliet felt sorry for the girl. Though she was little more than 20, she already appeared weary and dissipated. Obviously that candle was melting fast.
Almost as if she had guessed Juliet’s thoughts, Helena gave her a drunken salute. “You’re not so perfect, either, Miss Prim,” she said giggling.
“C’mon, Hel, let’s raise some hell,” burbled Dane Fuller. “Wanna go for a swim?”
“Sure, why not?” She laughed loudly and, tripping over his feet, sat down in the middle of the floor. “Look at me,” she chortled. “I’m hitting bottom like they always said I would.” She giggled wildly as her escort lifted her in his arms and bore her off.
“I’m sorry about that,” Gareth said regretfully.
“Let’s not think about them,” Juliet pleaded.
“No, let’s just dance. Juliet, my dearest, I do love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” she said, thinking now of Lucy. She was actually envious of her. Lucy had known love and birth before death, while she... but it was too late to dwell on that. She must be grateful to Lucy for having shown herself and Colin the way—and what would happen afterwards? Oblivion?
“Juliet!” Gareth raised his voice. “Where are you? I can’t reach you.”
“I couldn’t be much closer.” She tried to smile, but was not successful.
“There’s a strangeness about you.”
“So you’ve already suggested.”
“More than ever. Juliet, my darling, please reconsider Arno’s offer. You don’t want me to be saddled with a leading lady like Helena Browning, do you?”
“No, I really don’t,” she said far more sincerely than she had intended.
“Please, darling, make that test.”
She did not want to lie to him on this night of all nights, nor did she want to see the unhappiness in his eyes. Reluctantly she said, “Maybe I will.”
“Will you?” he asked joyfully. “Promise.”
“I will think about it, but I must leave now.”
“Leave? You’ve only just arrived.”
“We’ve been here quite a while. You just didn’t see us.”
“I couldn’t have missed you,” he burst out. “What sort of game are you playing with me?”
“No game, Gareth.” She stood on tiptoe to caress his cheek and kiss his lips, then breaking from him, she fled across the dance floor where Colin waited for her. She grasped his arm. “Let’s go.”
They threaded their way through the shrieking crowds, stepping over some drunken merrymakers who lay sprawled on the floor and avoiding others who were dancing on the tables and grabbing at them. The music was loud, the laughter, born of wine and booze, was even louder.
Colin said regretfully, “We shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, we should have come here,” she contradicted. “This is the world we know,” she whispered and tensed, feeling rather than seeing that Gareth was close behind them. “Hurry,” she urged. “I dare not look at him again.”
Colin moved swiftly then, as only he could move, as only they could move, skirting the crowds, reaching the entrance, losing themselves among the trees and finally, effortlessly, gliding down the cliffs to the white sands stretching below.
“Juliettttttt...” She heard her name called frantically.
“And not even a glass slipper for him to find,” Colin said.
“Don’t,” she begged.
“I’m sorry, dearest.”
They stood on the sand. A gentle breeze fanned their cheeks. Though it was sail dark, there was a lightening along the horizon. Juliet, standing beside her brother, wondered how much of the dawn they would be allowed to see. She had always been afraid of the dawn before.
A shriek of laughter disturbed her mood, and she saw the Pierrot and Columbine run screaming across the sands but fortunately not in their direction. Soon all she could hear was their howls of laughter as they disappeared down an incline in the sand.
“The sea is beautiful tonight... and such a lovely moon,” she said.
“One more moon day to go,” Colin remarked.
“Poor Mark, I wish...”
“Don’t think about him,” he said.
“No.” She held her brother’s arm, watching the waves swelling, breaking and retreating from the shore.
❖
Later, when the firemen who had tried in vain to put out the blaze that had consumed Paris, 1786, though not much else of the giant studio complex, they found the nigh watchman crawling around on all fours and yelling loudly. When he became somewhat calmer, he still couldn’t describe the dog that had knocked him down and run away. At leas they ascertained that it was a dog. The other attributes, the eyes, the ears and the fangs, were strictly from the realm of an imagination fed on bathtub gin.
Bathtub gin was the excuse the police formulated for the well-spoken, extremely surprised and strangely exultant young man they found wandering along the shoreline tracks just outside Culver City. Naked as the day he was born, he was staring up at the moon as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was also rubbing his hands together and repeating, “No hair... no hair on my palms.”
No one even attempted to translate that remark. Somebody loaned him a coat, and of course they took him to the Culver City police station. Since they didn’t smell any liquor on his breath, they decided he was on dope, particularly when he said with something approaching ecstasy, “I can look at the moon and I don’t feel a thing.”
“Pain,” supplied one of the jailors. “Don’t you mean you’re feelin’ no pain, buddy?”
He received no answer. The young man just continued to stare out of the cell window at the huge round moon.
❖
His eyes were eager and hopeful as he moved across the sands. He was wearing the black and silver suit that had once been his favorite and his powdered hair was pulled away from his face. He came to where they stood, just at the edge of the water. He said in a voice that was hollow yet resonant, “My dear, dear children.”
Colin and Juliet regarded him incredulously and, at the same time, regretfully.
“Father...” Colin was the first to speak. “We didn’t think you knew.”
“I knew, and also knew that it was useless to argue with you, but now...”
“No, you mustn’t argue,” Juliet whispered. “Just stay with us until the sun rises. It can’t be very long now.”
“The stars are dimming and the moon is low,” Colin agreed. “And we’ll pretend it’s a night when Father came in to see that we were both asleep.”
“How did you know that?” the Old Lord i
nquired. “Because we were never asleep.” Juliet laughed tenderly. “Oh, my dear, dear children.” He stood between them.
“I love you both so much. I fear I never expressed that love enough—not for you nor for your dear, dear mother, whom I have never ceased to miss or mourn. If I had known what I know now... but enough of recriminations. Heed me. All is not at an end for you. A new knowledge has come to me tonight, and I must share it with you.”
“Oh, Father, we know you love us and we love you,” Colin said, “but it has to be an end. It must be. We are weary of what we have become.”
“I understand that.” The Old Lord stared about him. “But you needn’t be what you have been. It is all part of something that is passing.”
“What?” Juliet asked.
“Look... there!” Colin exclaimed.
Juliet had been staring at her father. She tensed. “The sun?” she whispered.
“No, there by the water’s edge,” the Old Lord said, adding obliquely, “That is what was promised me.”
“What are you saying, sir?” Colin stared at him confusedly.
“Oh...” Juliet dared to raise her eyes. “The poor Pierrot and the Columbine... lying so still. They must be drowned!”
“Come with me, my dears.” The Old Lord strode down to the wet and shining strand. “Follow me,” he added impatiently.
“We must get help!” Juliet cried.
“It is too late,” Colin said. “It’s nearly dawn.”
“Come,” the Old Lord repeated sternly, as he strode ahead. He was standing by the bodies when they joined him. “Try them on. You’ll find they fit.”
They stared at him incredulously.
“You’d not be telling us that we...” Colin began.
“I am telling you what Molly told me. She saw it all. You know she was both witch and seeress in life. But you must want it, too. Heed me. At the moment the sun appears on the horizon, you will be without form or substance. Yet you will exist and may exist and live out these interrupted lives in your own way. If you choose, stand by that woman, Juliet, and you, Colin, stand by the man. You must hurry. Let your essence merge with them. There’ll be a time of sleeping, of waking, of remembering and... of loving.”
They still stared at him questioningly.
“Hurry,” he urged. “Take your positions. There’s but one chance—at the first gleam of sunshine on the far horizon.”
“But how...?” Juliet whispered.
“You will know how,” he urged.
Juliet and Colin stared at each other. “Do you think we might?” Juliet asked tentatively.
“We can try,” he affirmed.
They moved quickly.
“Ah, the sun!” cried the Old Lord.
❖
Livia sat beside the cellar door, staring stonily at the crumpled newspaper in her hand. She was trying to summon enough courage to go down and look, but as yet she could not bear to even contemplate what she was sure she would find. Septimus! If only he had continued to practice black magic, he might have subdued the beast, but he had renounced all that upon their marriage and his entrance into the terrible Household, where black magic should have been a requirement.
“Livia!”
She started and stared into the cellar, but the familiar call wasn’t coming from there. And then Septimus came into the hall, looking grimy and smelling strongly of woodsmoke, but neither mauled nor bitten and most definitely alive. “I’ve got bad news,” he said. “Paris is destroyed.”
“Paris,” she repeated blankly.
“I had one of my premonitions and I went to the studio and...” he broke off staring at the cellar door. “Where’s Mark?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “But you... you are safe.” She ran to him and clutched his hand.
“Where is Mark?”
“I don’t know. I came down and found the door that way. I haven’t looked into the cellar, but it was broken from the inside—the door, I mean.”
“That means he’s out. Have you called the police?”
“I fainted and afterwards...”
“You fainted?” He looked at her concernedly. “How are you now?”
“I’m all right. I guess we had better call the police.”
“God, yes, we can’t have him wandering around the neighborhood.”
“What can we say?” she cried.
“Say that our pet wolf...”
The telephone rang. “Oh, God,” Livia wailed as Septimus grabbed the phone. “Don’t talk long.”
“Hello,” he said edgily. “What... You!... You are?... You aren’t? Yes, yes, of course, immediately. Right. Goodbye, see you soon.”
“For goodness sake, why did you have to talk to him so long. We’ve got to find Mark.”
Septimus stared at her blankly. “I can’t believe it!”
“Believe what?”
“Mark!”
“Mark!” Livia grabbed his arm. “Someone called about Mark? But that’s impossible, no one knows...”
“That was Mark. He’s in jail,” Septimus said jubilantly.
“In jail?”
“In jail! I can’t believe it.”
“Septimus,” Livia said between her teeth, “will you please explain yourself? How could he be in jail?”
“He says he’s cured.”
“Cured!”
“There’s no hair on his palms, and he wants his pants, shirt, shorts socks and shoes.”
“I don’t understand!” Livia actually stamped her foot. “I’m sorry, my love.” Septimus opened wide his arms and catching her in them, hugged her warmly. “He’s naked. They’ve got him booked for indecent exposure. In Culver City, of all places!”
“My God, what happened? How? Oh, it doesn’t matter, does it?” She hurried toward the stairs and staring up saw Letitia Lawrence hanging on the chandelier and looking particularly blue. “Do go away,” she said tartly and hurried on up to ransack Mark’s wardrobe.
Much miffed, the specter sailed up to the roof to sit with Molly and Grimalkin. “I do not enjoy it here,” she said, “I am not appreciated.”
“It’s off to Ireland, you should go,” Molly said.
“Raggghoowlll,” commented Grimalkin.
“Listen to the love,” Molly said fondly. “He’s wantin to, go, too. And it’s my impression, we soon will.”
“I wish I might,” Letitia Lawrence sighed.
“And why shouldn’t ye?” Molly inquired. “There’s always a cryin’ need for banshees.”
Miss Lawrence gave her a long look. “Now that,” she mused, “is a thought.” She added wistfully, “do you suppose I could be assigned to a castle?”
❖
The nurses at the Santa Monica Hospital were in an uncharacteristic flutter. They had seen many celebrities in its corridors, but Helena Browning and Dane Fuller were something special. A whole country had taken the pair to their hearts. It would be terrible if they died, and they certainly had been close to death when they were brought in.
In a room with green pimpled plaster walls, Dr. William Jacobsen, Miss Bonnie Clarke, a nurse, and Mr. Luther Burns, the agent for both young performers, stared at the girl on the bed. She had been looking almost as white as the sheets, but now she was showing signs of returning consciousness.
“She’s coming round,” Dr. Jacobsen observed. “It’s a miracle. There was so much water in her lungs. If it hadn’t been for modern lifesaving methods, I don’t think...”
“Don’t say it,” Mr. Burns groaned. “Don’t even think it. This girl’s a hot property.”
“Caviar on your table, I know,” commented the doctor sarcastically.
“Father...” the girl muttered.
“Hey, she’s really out of it!” Mr. Burns exclaimed. “Her father hit the skids five years back. Drank almost as much as she does. What d’you want to bet the first thing she asks for is a whiskey and soda?”
“Colin...” the girl murmured.
“What’d she say?
” Mr. Burns jumped up and bent over the bed.
“She said Colin,” the nurse told him.
“What’s a colin?” Mr. Burns demanded. “Gee, she’s really pretty far gone. I wonder how he is. Guess I’d better...” He broke off startled as a door was thrust open and a tall, pale young man entered, followed by a frantic nurse.
“Gee whiz!” Bonnie Clark exclaimed.
“Mr. Fuller,” shrilled the other nurse. “Mr. Fuller, you’re in no condition to... I never would’ve told you her room number. The doctor’ll have my...” She broke off, flushing, as she met Dr. Jacobsen’s icy blue stare. “Geez, I couldn’t keep him down,” she bleated.
The man she had called Mr. Fuller moved weakly and shakily but managed to get to the girl’s bed. Sitting down on the edge of it, he stared at her, “You?” he managed to say.
The girl opened huge brown eyes. “You?” she echoed.
“Yes.”
The looks they exchanged were so full of love and happiness that Mr. Burns, meeting the reporters from the Hollywood Citizen-News, the Herald-Express, the Los Angeles Times and the Los Angeles Examiner, who were congregated in the hall outside, got all choked up as he told them about his two clients’ miraculous escape from death. “I guess they’ll get married after all,” he concluded.
❖
A world of newspapers headlined the story of the Fuller-Browning escape from drowning. In some of the local papers was another item. Two skeletons in eighteenth century costumes had been discovered on the beach. From the labels inside the garments, the police learned that they had been made by a famous costumer, who had reported them stolen several days ago. No one could explain the skeletons.
Morna Moran read the item and wondered.
Livia, Septimus, Kathie and Richard read the item and remembered Juliet and Colin leaving for the party the night when everything happened. They wept until the Old Lord, interrupting their dirge, said to Kathie that their tears were not needed. He would not expound any further on the subject.
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