A sharp clap of hands and Sonya’s voice calling out “Cut!” gave Fae an unexpected — and much-desired — reprieve. She let out a sigh and dropped to a seat on the edge of the stage as Sonya began her customary critique.
“Mercury, Jupiter,” Sonya said, climbing onto the stage and brandishing the script while she berated the pair, “I’ve told you more than enough times that you should get it by now. You can’t just project your voices — it’s your whole selves. Line delivery and singing are spot-on, but your movements are lifeless. It’s the theater, not a concert! You have to use the whole stage, not stick within your concentrated bubble of comfort.”
“I’m usually sitting down, so I get my own failings,” Jupiter said, massaging her sore shoulders, “but Mercury, you’re the poster-girl for the band. You’re normally the star of the show. What’s going on?”
“I have no freaking clue,” Mercury said with a sigh, bowing her head and slumping her shoulders. “I feel like I’m moving around a lot, really projecting and covering the stage.”
“Which is why I have more than just my own critiques,” Sonya said, nodding to Core, who hovered above her, whistling cheerfully.
“Hold up, you can record us?” Jupiter asked, gazing in awe at the little robot.
Core let out a series of staccato beeps and boops that sounded like laughter, and displayed on his screen, “Of course I can. Audio and video recording are too useful not to include in my suite of functions.”
“Well, play the tape,” Mercury said wearily, looking up. “Let’s see what I’m doing wrong.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one making mistakes here,” Neptune said. “We’re all quite far from where we need to be.”
“Theater’s a whole other beast from playing concerts,” Mercury said, clearly exhausted.
“At least you three are used to long rehearsals and big performances,” Fae said, “even if you haven’t done theater. I’m way out of my depth, here.” She tugged at the wide, poofy cuffs of her costume’s jacket. She was getting used to the costume, she had to admit, but performing as this character…
Beside her, Mercury and Sonya watched the tape of the previous scene’s rehearsal together. “Oh wow, I get it,” Mercury said, gazing intently. “I’m really not taking advantage of the space. I thought I was being so expressive, but watching it back I look really stiff.”
“Your singing’s good, though,” Sonya said. “Oh, but you do get tripped up —”
“Right there, yeah,” Mercury said, nodding. “Every time, I swear.” She started murmuring the lyrics under her breath, a quick string of alliteration that always got her tongue-tied.
“How are the effects?” Madeline asked as the first watch of that scene ended.
“Good,” Sonya said. “Though we could use a bit more… hmm.” She sat for a moment in thought.
“Top of scene three, when Fae jumps down from the central pillar,” Madeline said. “The color isn’t quite right, is it? And she could use a bit more flare around her. Something like… this, maybe?” She gestured with her paintbrush Talisman, and a wild array of violet light shot out, sparking and bursting in the air like silent fireworks, finishing in a dizzying psychedelic spiral overhead.
“Oh, that final flourish was perfect!” Sonya said. “Yes, let’s do that. Her first entrance really needs to pop, after all.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Madeline said. She sat beside Fae and gave her a quick look that said more than a thousand words could have. That, coupled with the bond that ran through all seven of them, made communication more effortless than ever between the longtime friends who had developed their own methods of nonverbal communication over the years.
“I’ll get it,” Fae said, laying back on the stage, gazing up at the light fixtures. Jupiter had put a lot of work into cleaning up and redoing the lighting for this show, and even with most of the lights turned off now, her efforts were apparent. “I just don’t get why I had to be cast as the lead. Especially this kind of lead. I’d be better off on effects work with you.”
“The Fates must’ve had high hopes for you,” Mercury said with a cheerful grin. She hopped to her feet and twirled in a circle, her costume’s multi-colored cape catching the light in a dazzling display. She paused a moment, eyeing herself, then looked over at Neptune. “Hey, I think my costume’s missing something, don’t you?”
While they started discussing it, Madeline indicated her own costume. “It’s not like I’m only on effects,” she said. “We all have our roles.”
“Except for me,” Sonya said, pursing her lips. “Not that I mind being the writer and director, but… it feels like something’s missing, without all of us on stage together.”
“Why not write your own character?” Olivia asked. “You’ve had to fill in a lot of blanks, and you’ve already created two characters that weren’t in the existing portions of the script.”
“I already thought about that,” Sonya said, opening the script to its first few pages. “But there’s a list of cast members and characters right at the front, and with our additions so far, there isn’t any space left.”
“We need you guiding us,” Fae said. With more effort than she’d expected to need — she was more worn out than she’d realized — she stood. “You don’t realize how big of a help it’s been having you always seeing the big picture and helping us get things right. We wouldn’t stand a chance of being ready in time without you.”
It wasn’t just that Sonya had taken the role of scriptwriter and director. She’d also spearheaded — alongside Revue — the efforts to clean up the Reflection Theater, explored backstage and organized what had been a chaotic mess so that they could actually assemble costumes, props, and sets, and constantly been checking and double-checking every single element of the production. Sonya had a quality that Fae identified with — she was always underselling her own efforts and abilities — and the more she saw of it, the more she tried to reach out and give honest praise where it could do the most good.
Because it was true. No one else here could have taken charge and done such an efficient and effective job of it.
“I wish Revue would have taken this role,” Sonya said with a sigh.
“You already know why she rejected that offer the first time,” Madeline said.
“Yes, but if she could put aside her pride as prima donna of Revue Palace, her knowledge and expertise would be exactly what we need,” Sonya said. “We’re working with a professional stage and professional equipment, the best we could find anywhere in the universe, but we’re all amateurs. And it still feels like an amateur production, despite our best efforts.”
“Even if she was willing to completely change her personality for our sake,” Mercury said with a wry smile, “she’s gotta keep singing. Until the Keys are turned, she has to replace the double-song of the Lost Bell.”
“I still don’t get how you don’t have any theater expertise with how long you’ve lived,” Jupiter said, watching as Toryu entered the stage, wheeling along a cart full of snacks and drinks.
“My dear, I am a Dragon,” Toryu said with soft, warm laughter. “I have spent the majority of my life overseeing the higher functions of the Dominion itself. It is only very recently — for a Dragon, that is — that I’ve been walking amongst the people and seeing the world at a more Enchanted, or Human, level. I have enjoyed several performances at Revue Palace before, but that was merely as a spectator. It does not convey much knowledge of the inner workings of the stage.”
“Hold up, you’ve only been walking around at that size recently?” Mercury asked, raising an eyebrow. “Revue Palace was Lost a long time ago. It was only a few months ago that Delilah restored it.”
“Yes, well, like I said,” Toryu said with a smile, “recently ‘for a Dragon.’ With such long lifespans, it can be difficult to grasp what is a long or short amount of time for Humans.”
“Sure, just make our heads spin,” Jupiter said, rolling her eyes. She looked up at the main catwalk for lighting operations. “Kid? How you doing up there?”
Ciel poked his head out from behind a large spotlight and flashed a thumbs-up. “Everything’s great up here,” he said, smiling. “I was waiting for Sonya to give me some feedback on that scene.”
“You’re doing fantastic work,” Sonya said. “Combined with Madeline’s magical effects, you two are practically perfect.” She sighed. “It’s just figuring out what we can change to improve things that I’m lost on. You’re executing our plans perfectly, it’s just… I’m not at all confident in these plans anymore.”
“Running low on time to make big changes to the plan,” Mercury said.
“What about our silent star over there?” Jupiter asked. She and her sisters looked towards the most distant edge of the stage, where Olivia stood with her back to them.
“There’s a reason she’s the best performer of us all,” Neptune said. “Whenever we aren’t rehearsing as a group, she’s going over her own performance and rehearsing on her own. Leave her be. There’s nothing for her to improve.”
A ripple of assent went through their seven-part bond. They were all impressed with Olivia. The only experience she had on a stage was playing her viola in recitals. She’d never performed in a play or musical, and she was such a soft-spoken, withdrawn individual that they’d all been worried about how she’d handle being one of the most important characters.
But she’d come alive in an electric way right from the start of their casual readthroughs and planning meetings. It was like a switch flipped, and she adopted the character she was meant to portray, leaving behind Olivia Scarlet Quinn.
But at the same time, when she wasn’t rehearsing or reading through the script with the others, she was almost always to be found at the farthest point from the rest of them, absorbed in her own silent rehearsals and reflection.
Fae had been the first to catch on. For all her excellence, taking on such a dramatic character with such energy drained Olivia. The silence and distance were how she recharged.
It was one quirk Fae was certain all introverts shared.
Core let out a little tweedle of alert and came flying over to them, twirling in a circle so all could see the message on his screen: “Incoming message from Margot! Incoming message from Margot!”
Fae’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be? The answer she’d been waiting for, and trying to distract herself from waiting for… was it finally here?
“Put her through, Core,” Mercury said, throwing an arm over Fae’s shoulders and smiling.
Core’s screen flickered a few times, then resolved into a somewhat grainy image with washed-out colors of Margot in her workshop. “Hello, there — oh,” Margot started, eyes widening, mouth forming a little circle in surprise. “You’re all dressed rather… extravagantly.”
“Yep!” Mercury said, grinning. “It’s a long story. What’s the word on your end? Did you finally figure out Fae’s results?”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Margot said. “But it must have been some time for all of you. Yes. I see. I’m sorry, I… I can see by your hair, several of you have longer hair than before. It’s still only been, well… it hasn’t been a full day here since you left.”
“Still?” Jupiter asked, incredulous. “Ugh, temporal fluxes are the worst.”
“If you don’t have news about my condition,” Fae said, “then… did something happen?”
“Yes,” Margot said. She paused, silent for a long moment as she seemed to be searching for the right words. “It was all very… odd. I’ve never seen anyone like him. It was like he was in some sort of… trance. And he wasn’t the only one. Apparently there were others like him throughout the city, asking the same question.”
“Question?” Fae asked. A knot of dread tightened in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.
“Yes, I…” Margot started, but was interrupted by a little robotic whistle. “Yes, Cee, you’re right, I should start from the beginning. Thank you.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “Just a few minutes ago, a man came into my workshop. He had a strange, far-off look in his eyes, and was dressed in green hooded robes. His whole appearance, right from the start, made me quite uneasy. I wasn’t worried for my safety, my workshop is the last place in the world that anyone could bring anyone to harm. My father made sure of that. But, anyway, back to the point… he was asking about ‘the Vessel.’ He asked, ‘The Vessel has been here. Where is she now?’”
Fae’s heart caught in her throat. The word didn’t come out of her, but throughout their seven-part bond, it echoed like a roll of thunder: Wasuryu. Even Olivia stopped her silent rehearsing to come over and join them.
“Where is he now?” Olivia asked.
“Gone,” Margot said. “He sniffed the air, and then said, ‘Fae Greyson.’ He said it like it was a question, almost, and looked at me, but not really at me. Those strange eyes… it was like he never really looked at the world as it was. Like I said, as if he was in a trance. I didn’t say anything about you, of course, I simply told him that if he didn’t have any business here, he needed to leave. He sniffed the air again, then turned. ‘So she is gone.’ Those were his last words, and then he left the workshop. I contacted Mister Hanover and a few of my closer associates in the area to report the incident. They said that several similar men and women had been reported throughout the city, saying and asking almost the exact same things.”
“And what’s been done about them?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, right,” Margot said. “I really should have been more specific. Well, of thirteen cases, ten of the robed individuals were apprehended. They put up a bit of a fight about it, but there’s a reason crime, particularly violent crime, is almost nonexistent in Renault. They were quickly subdued and locked up properly, with their Talismans confiscated. But three vanished through mysterious means. The authorities are still investigating, but… well, I thought you needed to know. I don’t know what any of it means, but since they were looking for you… yes. Well.” She looked away, fidgeting awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Fae said, which brightened Margot up considerably. “You were right to let us know.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Margot said, releasing a long sigh of relief. “I knew you’d be hopeful about news of your condition, so I didn’t want to bother you with something else, but this seemed like something important, so… anyway. I’m glad. Be careful, won’t you? That man frightened me.”
They said goodbye, and Margot ended the call. Olivia turned, gazing around the theater, and all its rows of empty seats. “Do you think he can find us here?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“If he can track us to Revue Palace — and actually enter — then perhaps,” Toryu said, puffing at his pipe. “But locating us and entering Revue Palace will be challenging enough. Don’t forget that the Reflection Theater’s entrance, too, is hidden.”
“So we should be safe here,” Jupiter said. She shivered. “Then why don’t I feel safe?”
“The second Delilah gives the word that she’s ready,” Fae said, “we start the performance for real. No matter how our rehearsals are going, no matter what state we’re in. We don’t delay for a second.”
“But even if he found us, Revue could keep him out, right?” Mercury asked.
“Revue’s a bit occupied at the moment,” Madeline said. “She just showed us how to get in here and got us started, then left. She can’t do anything else right now except sing. If someone did find the entrance to Revue Palace, chances are they’d find it unguarded.”
“Do you have to make it worse?” Jupiter asked, clutching onto Neptune’s arm for support. “Seriously! Just stop talking about it! Let’s rehearse, okay? Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse, and then do the performance without worrying about some evil Dragon busting in.”
“I’ll see about setting up some watch-wards,” Toryu said, striding towards the exit from the theater. “It won’t do to be caught unawares.”
Fae took a few deep breaths to steady herself. More than that, she latched onto the steady calm of Olivia.
But in that calm, there was something else. A fire, of sorts.
Olivia wasn’t frightened. If anything, she was more determined than ever. But that determination sent a shiver down Fae’s spine.
Because she was pretty sure that at least part of Olivia wanted Wasuryu to find them.
——
“Rise and shine, Greyson!”
The sudden, unexpected voice of Mister Midnight shocked Caleb out of sleep, and he shot up to a seat in bed, blinking wide-eyed round the room.
Sure enough, there was his teacher, standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe, smirking at him.
“Mister Midnight!” Caleb said, adjusting his glasses. “When did you get here?”
“A while ago,” Midnight said. “You get enough sleep?”
“I feel like I did — I think,” Caleb said, hopping out of bed and stretching, working the sluggishness of deep sleep out of his system. “I’d have to check how long it’s been since I went to bed. I haven’t learned how to read Universal Time clocks, let alone translate that into Earth time.”
“Twenty-three hours,” Midnight said.
“Twenty-three?!?” Caleb asked, eyes wide. “No wonder I feel… well, sluggish and sleepy, but also rested. And after the beating I took in Grimoire, I’ve only got a little hint of soreness here and there. And I’m starving.”
“Good,” Midnight said, tossing Caleb a bagel, which Caleb just managed to catch in time. Flecks of red here and there hinted it was a strawberry bagel, and a big bite confirmed it. Delicious. “Come on. There’s more food along the way. And we’ve got lots to talk about.” Midnight turned and started down the hall.
Caleb hastily gulped down that bite after only chewing a couple of times, and rushed out the door after Midnight. “Wait, hold on, what’s going on?” he asked. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah,” Midnight said. “I arrived.”
Caleb sighed, shaking his head. “I mean, what do we need to talk about that’s so urgent? The others aren’t up yet, are they?”
“Nope. But I got tired of waiting for you to finish your beauty sleep.”
It was then that Caleb noticed Midnight’s coat was somewhat tattered, that his boots were scuffed, and that there were faint, mostly-healed cuts and bruises on his hands and wrists. “What happened to you?” he asked.
“I’ll save that story for later,” Midnight said. “You and I need to focus on the problem at hand.”
“And what’s that?” Caleb asked. They entered a dining room, and Midnight gestured to a tray. Caleb hastily piled it with food, not even thinking about sitting down, since Midnight was already heading to the next hall. Balancing his tray carefully, Caleb rushed after Midnight, gulping down the rest of his bagel and stabbing at some scrambled eggs with a fork.
“My sister,” Midnight said. “You’re going to help me help her.”
“Help her? Wait, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Chronological displacement, but you already knew that.” Midnight glanced back, eyes bright and attentive. “Remember the Chronos Vault? You talked about ‘touching Time,’ right?”
Caleb nodded, chewed, swallowed. “Yeah. And there have been other somewhat similar instances since then.”
“We’re gonna use that,” Midnight said, snapping his fingers. “Time to solve a mystery I didn’t know existed.”
Caleb smiled. “And you’re a detective.”
Midnight smirked back at him. “That’s right. And every good detective needs a talented sidekick.”