The Juliet Spell (3 page)

“Damned spirit, I charge thee, make Doctor D. appear!” the boy shouted. “By the power of the Cross I command thee!”

That made me mad. It was like some guy coming to your door trying to sell you his religion. And being scared already, being mad on top of it made me furious.

“Who the hell are you?” I said again. “What did you just do?”

“I am friend and follower to Doctor D.,” he said. “Who has power over such as ye. Ye know better than I how I come to be here. Release me and return me to him.”

“Get out of here,” I said. “Go back where you came from.”

“Summon Doctor D., or send me back,” the boy said. “I’ll not leave this circle.”

“Shut up and get off the table,” I said, and my voice was so tough even I was scared of it. “Get off right now. It wob.bles.”

“Ha, ha. Ye’d like that very well,” the boy sneered. “Ye know well ye cannot hurt me so long as I remain within me circle.”

“It’s my circle,” I said.

“It is?” He looked down, and saw my round tabletop. “Oh, God, I am truly lost. Saint Mary, help me now.”

“If you don’t shut up and get off my table and get out of here, I’m calling 911,” I said, pulling out my cell phone.

He cringed when he saw it.

“No hellish engine shall conjure me from this spot,” he said. “Fetch ye Doctor D. at once, devil thing.” He waved his cross around some more.

I punched in 911.

“All of our lines are busy now,” a so-friendly recording told me. “Please wait and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.”

“Shit,” I said.

“Doctor D.! Doctor D.!” the boy shouted. “Come ye to me.”

“The cops are coming,” I said, waving my cell phone. “I just said ‘shit’ because I’m excited.”

“Doctor D.!”

Then I had a wild idea. Before Dad went off to develop himself, he used to work out of the house. Maybe this guy was some new kind of crazy, and had come looking for him. This wouldn’t explain little things, like how he got here out of thin air, but like I said, it was a wild idea.

“Are you looking for my dad?” I said. “He’s a doctor, but he’s gone. He left us. But nobody calls him Doctor D.”

“Nay, ye evil wight, I call on Doctor John Dee—John Dee, the greatest man in England. What have ye done with him?”

I held the phone to my ear.

“—your call will be answered—”

A weird cold calm came over me. Whatever was going on, this guy was more frightened of it than I was. I could take control of this situation if I could get control of myself. Treat him like Dad would have: like a patient. Even if he wasn’t crazy, the situation was.

“If you get down off the table and sit down at it and calm down a little, I’ll put the phone away and try to help you,” I said. “Otherwise, you can explain it to the cops when they get here.”

“If ye are not a demon, give me a sign,” the boy said.

“What kind of a sign do you want?”

“Ye must say the Lord’s Prayer.”

“I’m not going to pray,” I said.

“Aha! I knew ye were a servant of the evil one! Help me, Doctor Dee, help me!”

“Oh, all right, damn it. One line. Okay?” I tried to re.member Sunday school, but I’d only gone about six times and I hadn’t really liked it. Then I recalled something… “‘Our Father who art in heaven.’ Now get the fuck down.”

The boy looked really confused now. “Ye said the words,” he said. “Ye said the words and did not burst into flames.”

“Yessss… Now get down. And sit down over there.”

“If ye are not a demon, are ye an angel?” the boy asked.

“No,” I said. “Get down.”

“Then are ye a fairy?”

“Not even close. Get down. That table really does have a weak leg. I’m not kidding.”

“Return Doctor Dee and I will,” the boy said.

“I don’t know where he is,” I replied. “You’re the only one here besides me, and you shouldn’t be. But if you’ll start calming down I’ll try to help you.”

“Tell me first what manner of creature ye be. Tell me truly by the power of the Cross.”

“I’m just a girl who doesn’t like people breaking into her house and pitching their religion at her,” I said. “Especially when they erupt out of thin air.”

“A girl? Nay, wench. Ye are like no girl on earth. Ye dress in pants like a Tartary savage, ye’er arms are bare as sticks. Ye’er hair is shorter than mine own. Ye speak strange words in an unknown accent. And ye’ve a—a conjuring thing there in ye’er hand to summon— Copse, ye’er familiar, I doubt not. Tell me what ye truly are.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” I said, trying for calm again. “Why don’t you get down off the table and sit over there in the corner and tell me what you think is going on? ’Cause I don’t have a clue.”

“I’ll not—ye are Queen Mab, or one of her servants.”

Mab, I thought. Queen of the fairies. Mercutio talks about her in Romeo and Juliet. He thinks I’m her?

Then the table collapsed. The boy fell backwards, my little round tabletop flew out from under his feet, and his head hit the wall.

“Ow! Blessed Saint Mary, save me now,” he yelped.

“Damn it, I told you that leg was weak,” I said.

“Don’t turn me into anything,” the boy begged. “I im.plore you, spirit, or fairy, or whatever thing ye be, have mercy on a poor lost soul.”

I put the cell phone to my ear again.

“—in the order it was received—”

The boy was cowering in the corner now.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen,” he said, crossing himself a couple of times.

Well, at least I had him off the table and into the corner.

“Sit. Stay,” I commanded, like he was a dog, and pointed the phone at him.

He whimpered and drew his knees up to his chest.

One of the things Dad always said about dealing with crazy people was that, before you could help them, you had to find out what reality they were living in.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll have mercy on you, I promise.”

“Swear you will not turn me into a toad or other loath.some creature,” the boy said.

“I swear not to turn you into anything. Now, my name’s Miranda. What’s yours?”

“Edmund’s me name.”

“Fine,” I said. “Now, where are you from, Edmund? And how did you get here?” My voice was getting calmer. Almost like Dad’s shrink voice. He would have been proud of me.

“London,” he said. “Though as ye can tell from me ac.cent I’m not born there.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t have known that,” I said. “Where are you from originally?”

“Warwickshire, of course.”

“Okay. And who’s this Doctor Dee?”

“As I told ye, Doctor John Dee is the greatest man in En.gland. A mighty mind that knows everything, a valiant heart that dares everything, even the darkest depths of knowledge. Cousin of the queen, friend of all the greats of England. Ye must know of him!”

“Nope. Never heard of him,” I said, kind of amazed he expected me to know some guy half-across the world. “But go on. Tell me what he has to do with you.”

“We were in his secret rooms in Cheapside…. Doctor Dee was casting a spell. A necromancy.” He crossed himself again. “Greatly have we offended. Thus am I punished. Oh, my God, have mercy.”

“Just get back to your story,” I said slowly and calmly. “What’s a necro—what you said?”

“We meant to raise the ghost of Helen of Troy,” he said. “For Doctor Dee, necromancy remains the last great thing undone. He wished to question her about the Iliad. To know how truly it depicted the battles. For me—fool that I am, I wanted to see Helen. To see ‘the face that launched a thou.sand ships and burned the topless towers of Ilium.’ ’Twas why I addressed ye in Greek at first.”

I was actually calming down a little. And because I was, my legs started shaking really bad. “Edmund, I’m going to sit down now. Don’t be afraid.”

He didn’t say anything.

I sat down beside the broken table. That felt better.

There’s a quick test they give you to find out if you’re crazy or not. If you’re ever taken to the hospital unconscious they’ll give it to you when you wake up. Here it goes.

“Edmund, I’m going to ask you five questions. Real easy ones, okay?”

“What means ‘okay’?”

“Okay? It doesn’t mean anything. I mean, it means a lot of things. It just means okay, okay?”

“I’ll not answer any more questions of yours, save you

answer as many questions of mine,” he said. “Okay,” I said. “In this case, that means ‘yes.’ Okay?” “Yes. Okay.” “First question. What’s your name?” “Edmund Shakeshaft,” he said. “Almost like the writer.” “Writer?” he said, as if he didn’t know the word. “Never mind. You’re Edmund Shakeshaft. Fine. Second

question. What country is this?” “I’ve never a notion,” Edmund said. “What country is

this?” I decided to tell him. “The United States of America.” “The what of America?” “Let’s go on,” I said. “You can ask your questions next.

Third question. What year is this?” “1597.” “Fourth question. What day is this?” “’Tis the Ides of March,” he said. “Which is what day of what month?” I said. “’Tis March the fifteent’, o’course, or a day on either side.” Maybe it was the Ides of March where he’d been, but here

it was the beginning of May. “One more question,” I said, knowing it would make no

sense to him. “Who’s the president of the United States?” “Who is the what of the what?” “That’s good, Edmund. We’re done. Now you get five

questions.” Edmund shifted a little. He was getting a bit more com.

fortable, too. “First question. Tell me what ye truly are.” “I already did. I’m a girl named Miranda Hoberman. I’m not a fairy, or a demon, or any of the other things you think I might be. I’m a human being just like you.”

“’Tis easier to believe ye are a fairy…. But ye said a bit of the Lord’s Prayer, which they say no unhallowed wight could do. So I suppose I must believe ye. Well, me next question is, if this be the Americas, what part of them am I in?”

“California,” I said. “It’s part of the United States.”

“Nay, ’tis part of the Viceroyalty of New Spain,” he said. “Nueva España. Doctor Dee has shown me maps. Why d’ye not speak Spanish?”

“I’ll try to explain later,” I said. “Go on.”

“What year is it?”

When I told him, he turned pale. “How can it be? I’m never four hundred years and more in the future.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” I said.

Edmund was quiet for a long string of minutes. Then he said. “Everyone’s dead. All me friends, all me family. Doc.tor Dee and everyone. Even the queen must be dead by now, and we thought she’d never die.” He looked so shocked I felt sorry for him. And, I realized right then that I believed him. I had to. Nothing else made any sense.

I held my phone to my ear.

“—order in which—”

I switched it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Being lost in time while Elizabethan wasn’t a crime in California.

“I have just one more question,” Edmund said. “’Tis a boon I would beg of ye. Will ye help me back. Back to me own time?”

“Edmund,” I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this hap.pened. I don’t know if it’s something Doctor Dee did, or something I did, or something that just fell on you out of no.

Douglas Rees

where. I don’t know how to reverse it. But I will help you all I can. And so will my mother when she gets home. Okay?” Edmund began to cry.

Chapter Three

Edmund’s shoulders shook. His breath came in terrible gasps. He cried out to God, Saint Mary Mother of God, and Jesus. He called to his mother, his father, to Doctor Dee, and a lot of other names. Then he just wept. I’d never seen a man cry like that. I’d never seen anybody cry like that ex.cept my mother when my father left.

I felt so sorry for him. Strange as this whole thing was for me, at least I was still in my own time, with everything I knew about still around me. My mom and I had lost my dad. But Edmund had lost a whole world. And there was no way to get it back. I just sat with my hands in my lap wish.ing I could think of anything that would help.

Finally, when he had cried himself out, he crossed himself and said, “I am an Englishman. Many of us have been cast on strange strands before this. Come what may, I am still Edmund Shakeshaft. I thank ye, Miranda Hoberman. May God reward your kindness to me.”

“You’re welcome, Edmund,” I said. And then suddenly I had a brilliant idea. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” he said, in a voice that was still shaking.

“Yeah. Mom and I have lots of different kinds.”

“What is tea?” he asked.

“I thought all you English guys drank tea all the time,” I said.

“No,” Edmund said. “Never heard of tea.”

“Well, I’d like some,” I said, hoping it was just a language thing. “Let me make a cup.”

I got up and went over to the stove. I shook the kettle, heard that there was no water in it, and filled it from the tap.