Spellcrossed
Page 1
SOMEONE WAS BREAKING INTO MY
GODDAMN THEATRE
ON MY GODDAMN OPENING NIGHT…
Reinhard refused to let me call the police. Instead, we all trooped down the hill from Janet’s house to investigate.
Maybe it was some kind of practical joke. Catherine and Javier had been sent ahead to oversee the final preparations. And when I walked in, everybody would yell, “Surprise!” But the last thing I needed after the past few days was yet another surprise.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing. I almost hoped there was a burglar. If we walked in on Catherine and Javier having a quickie on one of the orphan’s beds, I’d feel like an idiot.
The wrought iron lamps along the walkway flared to life. For a moment, we just stood there, gaping. Then Janet gripped my hand and Reinhard flung his arm around my waist. I looked from one to the other, suddenly scared. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a practical joke….
“There’s a vast but little known overlap between fans of fantasy and fans of musical theater, and Barbara Ashford hits the sweet spot on both with Spellcast.”
—Carrie Vaughn, New York Times bestselling author
“A charming fantasy novel [that] left me wanting more, in fine theatrical tradition.”
—Locus
“One of those rare gems…something completely unique in the pantheon of novels I have read over a lifetime. It is a love story, a fantasy, a mystery, and a theatre book all rolled up into one.”
—New Myths
DAW Presents the Finest in Modern Fantasy
From Barbara Ashford:
SPELLCAST (Book One)
SPELLCROSSED (Book Two)
SPELLCROSSED
BARBARA ASHFORD
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER
375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM
SHEILA E. GILBERT
PUBLISHERS
http://www.dawbooks.com
Copyright © 2012 by Barbara Ashford.
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-101-59472-8
Cover art by permission of Shutterstock.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1589.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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Nearly all the designs and trade names in this book are registered trademarks. All that are still in commercial use are protected by United States and international trademark law.
First Printing, June 2012
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to everyone who helped in the creation of Spellcrossed:
My writing friends who provided feedback and critiques: Michele Korri, Michael Samerdyke, Susan Sielinski, and the NOVA critique group.
My friends and colleagues in the theatre who offered scripts, suggestions, and memories of past productions: Jeanne McCabe, Nellie O’Brien, and Steven Silverstein.
Ellie Miller who gave me the title.
My sister, Cathy Klenk, who confirmed and corrected details of Wilmington (and even traipsed out after a snowstorm to reconnoiter the Brandywine Zoo).
My editor, Sheila Gilbert, whose insights and suggestions were—as usual—invaluable.
And my husband, David Lofink—my first reader and my best friend. His encouragement has nurtured my writing career and his love has nurtured me since we starred opposite each other on the stage of the Southbury Playhouse. As always, this one’s for him.
To learn more about the world
of the Crossroads Theatre,
visit www.barbara-ashford.com.
CONTENTS
OVERTURE
ACT ONE: SOMETHING’S COMING
1. EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN
2. LITTLE GIRLS
3. IT FEELS LIKE HOME
4. YOU’RE NEVER FULLY DRESSED WITHOUT A SMILE
5. ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE
6. WHY MUST THE SHOW GO ON?
7. TOMORROW
8. BLESS OUR SHOW
9. SHINE
10. ALL IN MY MIND
11. THIS CAN’T BE REAL
12. SEEING IS BELIEVING
Entr’acte
ACT TWO: LIVING IN THE SHADOWS
13. WHO ARE YOU NOW?
14. I’VE GOT YOU TO LEAN ON
15. TAKE IT ON THE CHIN
16. RUNNING IN PLACE
17. IT’S A HELLUVA WAY TO RUN A LOVE AFFAIR
18. DON’T LET IT GET YOU DOWN
19. WHAT WOULD WE DO WITHOUT YOU?
20. THE “YOU-DON’T-WANT-TO-PLAY-WITH-ME” BLUES
21. LET’S CALL THE WHOLE THING OFF
22. ROLE OF A LIFETIME
23. A REAL NICE CLAMBAKE
24. WHAT DID I EVER SEE IN HIM?
25. FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS
26. LET’S MISBEHAVE
27. KEEP YOUR SUNNY SIDE UP
28. IT’S BAD LUCK TO SAY GOOD LUCK ON OP’NING NIGHT
29. HOLD ON
30. HEY, OLD FRIEND
31. IT TAKES TWO
32. QUIET PLEASE, THERE’S A LADY ONSTAGE
33. WE CAN MAKE IT
Entr’acte
ACT THREE: EVER AFTER
34. DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE
35. ONE NORMAL NIGHT
36. SEE WHAT IT GETS YOU
37. LEAVIN’S NOT THE ONLY WAY TO GO
38. PROMISES, PROMISES
39. I WANT TO MAKE MAGIC
40. ALL I WANTED WAS THE DREAM
41. NO MORE
42. IF MOMMA WAS MARRIED
43. I PROMISE YOU A HAPPY ENDING
44. YOU’LL NEVER BE ALONE
45. TIME HEALS EVERYTHING
46. LET’S TAKE AN OLD-FASHIONED WALK
47. STAY WITH ME
48. HARD TO SAY GOODBYE
49. THINGS BEYOND THIS EARTH
FINALE AND CURTAIN CALLS
50. YOU ARE MY HOME
OVERTURE
I AM DANCING WITH FIREFLIES.
Part of me knows that this is only a dream, that I must wake up and resume my responsibilities as director of the Crossroads Theatre. But for now, I dance in their golden light.
I am a child, chasing fireflies with her father. I am a woman, hearing Rowan Mackenzie laugh as fireflies swarm around him on Midsummer’s Eve.
The light flickers uncertainly, as if my fireflies understand the mingled joy and sorrow those memories evoke.
I sense the others before I see them, the family that I found at the Crossroads. My family in blood as well as spirit. They hover at the edge of the glade, half-seen among the shadows.
Hal rushes forward and embraces me. He is dressed in a flowing gown of green. He, too, wears many faces tonight: costume designer, lingerie shop owner, and Titania, queen of the faeries. That must make Lee his Oberon, although he wears his usual T-shirt and jeans. The light grows brighter as Lee crosses the glade, as if he were bringing up the house lights i
n the theatre.
Javier waves his hand, and the fireflies obediently move to the far edge of the glade like members of his stage crew. Catherine waves hers, and they construct a glowing pyramid of light. The pyramid dissolves into a dance again as Mei-Yin stalks forward; even fireflies know better than to defy their choreographer. Alex raises his hands, the conductor cueing his orchestra, and the erratic flashes of light become a single steady pulse. On. Off. On. Off.
Reinhard jots a note on his ubiquitous clipboard, checking off fireflies like cast members reporting for their seven o’clock call. Janet rolls her eyes. Hard to believe I once considered her my enemy. But I knew so little about her—about all of them—during that first summer at the Crossroads.
They begin to dance—Lee with Hal, Javier with Catherine, Reinhard with Mei-Yin. Husbands and wives, partners and lovers. Janet pulls Alex into the dance. The widow and her widowed son. Alone in life, but in this dream, they are partners. In this dream, everyone has a partner.
Everyone except me.
Sadness touches me again. And then Bernie rolls his walker forward, observing the dance with wonder, as if he finally understands the secret of the Crossroads Theatre.
“Faery magic,” the fireflies whisper.
Bernie cannot hear them, but he casts his walker aside and dances with me. We all dance, caught up in the spell of the fireflies and the spell of the Crossroads.
Only the one who created the spell is missing. My faery lover who was the heart and soul of the Crossroads Theatre—and my heart and soul as well.
“Rowan will always carry you in his heart. Remember that, my dear. And know that you will always have a home at the Crossroads.”
I search the shadows, but I cannot see Helen. Yet I know she is here, taking her bow with the others.
This is not the time for curtain calls; the season is just beginning.
There is work to do.
I must stop dreaming.
I must wake up.
I must forget Rowan Mackenzie.
ACT ONE
SOMETHING’S COMING
CHAPTER 1
EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN
THERE IS NO UPSIDE to losing your lover—especially in Dale, which is not exactly the singles capital of Vermont. But having a faery for a lover does teach you to accept the impossible and cope with anything that life throws at you.
Since Rowan Mackenzie returned to Faerie one year, eight months, and twenty-two days ago, life had thrown me a lot of new and unusual experiences. I had helped judge the watermelon seed spitting contest at the Farmers Day Fair and frozen my ass off collecting buckets of sap during the Maple Sugar Festival. I had enjoyed fishing with Reinhard, Christmas caroling with Alex, and a romantic Valentine’s Day sleigh ride. With Janet.
As manager of the ramshackle Golden Bough Hotel, I had dealt with a flooded basement, a kitchen fire, and the mysteries of ancient plumbing. As executive director of the newly nonprofit Crossroads Theatre, I had learned to write successful grant proposals and appeal letters. As the theatre’s interim artistic director, I had staged three small musicals and plucked out twice that many long gray hairs.
After all that, auditioning dogs was a breeze.
As the latest contender shuffled across the stage, I heard soft chuckles from the seats behind me, quickly converted into coughs. Naturally, the entire staff had turned out this morning, eager to see Maggie Graham, Dog Director, in action.
It was my own damn fault. I’d pitched the idea of doing a show with children’s roles. The perfect way to draw attention—and warm bodies—to our after-school program and bring in enough money to keep it alive after the grant ran out.
The board was thrilled, visions of ticket-buying relatives dancing in their heads. The next thing I knew, we were doing an entire season featuring young performers, and I was auditioning dogs to play Annie’s adorable sidekick Sandy.
The lugubrious click of toenails ceased as Arthur finally made it to center stage. At a hand signal from his owner, his arthritic hindquarters drooped onto the floorboards. Doreen kissed his shaggy head. She looked exactly like the handlers I’d seen during my infrequent viewings of the Westminster Dog Show—portly, middle-aged, and tweedy.
She straightened and peered into the darkened house, awaiting my reaction.
“He’s very obedient,” I said.
“Arthur’s a pro.”
Which was true; his resume was more impressive than mine.
“And he’s played Sandy twice before,” she noted.
Judging from his age, he’d probably starred in the original Broadway production of Annie.
“He’s very…calm, isn’t he?”
“Oh, nothing upsets Arthur.”
The entire set could fall down, and he’d just sit there. But he was sweet-tempered and scruffy if not exactly adorable. Who cared if he was a little long in the tooth?
“Play dead, Arthur.”
Frankly, it wasn’t much of a stretch. I watched him anxiously until the rise and fall of his rib cage assured me he was merely playing. Then I smiled brightly.
“I’m sold. Arthur’s our Sandy.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Arthur?”
Arthur’s tail thumped the floorboards once.
“I hope Fifi won’t be too crushed,” I said.
“Her time will come,” Doreen assured me.
She coaxed Arthur to his feet and released Fifi from her “stay” position. Fifi shot across the stage and jumped up on her stubby legs to lick Arthur’s face. He appeared unmoved by her display of affection, but clearly, wagging his tail was a monumental effort. He hobbled down the five steps from the stage, and slowly—very slowly—made his way toward the back of the house with Fifi literally running circles around him.
I kept my smile in place until the lobby door clicked shut behind them.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Mei-Yin exploded.
I swung around in my seat. “Not another sound until they’re out of the theatre.”
“Better give them five more minutes,” Janet advised. “It’ll take Old Yeller that long to reach the front door.”
“Oh, hush. He was better than the hyperactive Border collie. Or that ugly pit bull.”
Or Fifi who appeared to be the unfortunate offspring of a golden retriever bitch and a very determined toy poodle.
“You’re as picky about dogs as you are about men,” Hal complained. “I don’t know how many hours I’ve wasted setting you up with eligible bachelors.”
“Bachelors, yes. Eligible, not so much.”
“What about Mitch?” Hal demanded.
“The cross-dresser?”
“He was straight.”
“Which is more than you can say about Rafael.”
“Rafael is bi!”
“With a decided preference for your team. As we discovered at the cast party of The Fantasticks when he went home with my date.”
I shot a pointed look at Javier who sighed. “Yeah. I kind of missed the mark on Tad.”
“Kind of?”
Catherine poked her husband’s arm. “I told you he was gay.”
“But he likes basketball. And fixing up old cars.”
“So do I,” Lee pointed out as he leaned over to kiss Hal’s cheek.
“I rest my case,” Catherine said.
“Well, what was so wrong with Don?” Alex asked, jumping into the fray.
“The real estate guy who never shut up?”
“That was Ron! Don! The English teacher.”
Janet groaned. “He spent the entire date crying about his ex-wife.”
“How do you know?” Alex demanded.
“I insist on hearing about all of Maggie’s awful dates. Much more gratifying than charging her rent. For what it’s worth,” Janet added, “I’d have given Mitch the Cross-Dresser another shot. His fashion sense was impeccable.”
Hal nodded solemnly. “And there are very few men his size who look elegant in a strapless gown.”
<
br /> “And that,” I announced, “ends this discussion.”
Shadowy figures rose and began drifting up the aisle toward the lobby: Hal to his lingerie shop, Lee to his law office, Javier to his antiques store, and Catherine back to the Mill to finish constructing the Warbucks mansion set. I felt a pang of regret; last year, everyone had sat through auditions to lend me moral support.
But I was a big girl now. And I had Mei-Yin, Reinhard, Alex, and Janet to get me through the rest of the day. If I could survive dogs, how bad could children be?
“Shoot me NOW,” Mei-Yin whispered. “Just put a GUN to my head and SHOOT me.”
As yet another Annie wannabe stuck out her chin and grinned and warbled that the sun would come out tomorrow, I was sorely tempted to grant Mei-Yin’s request and then turn the gun on myself.
Instead, I envisioned a sold-out house and a big, fat program filled with “break a leg” ads placed by adoring parents. And the opportunity to mount two shows that had never been staged at the Crossroads Theatre, a thought that filled me with enough excitement to weather a hundred renditions of “Tomorrow.”
The blonde girl onstage gulped a breath of air and belted out that final “aaa-waaay.” Alex pounded out a succession of triumphal chords on the piano. Janet and Mei-Yin heaved simultaneous sighs of relief.
Then the applause started.
“Brava, my dear,” the mellifluous voice called. “Brava!”
Mei-Yin leaned close to whisper, “When did HE sneak in?”
I gave a dispirited shrug. It was harder to shrug off the déjà vu that shivered through me as I recalled Hal bursting into spontaneous applause after my ever-so-reluctant audition.
Rowan had quelled Hal’s ebullience with a single glance. I had to swivel around in my seat, clear my throat, and call Long’s name twice before the applause died.
I swung back to face the stage. “Very nice…” Quick glance at the resume. “…Chelsea.”
“I know all the songs,” Chelsea informed me. “I played Molly when our community theatre did Annie four years ago.”