Wondrous Strange (22 page)

November 1

I
t was just over an hour to curtain, and Kelley should have been nervous. Instead she was numb.

Opening night. Magic time. The peak of her childhood dreams reached…

And none of it mattered.

Sonny wasn’t there to see it. She sat in front of her makeup mirror, listlessly toying with a mascara wand, staring at the mess of powder she’d spilled earlier and hadn’t bothered to clean up.

Outside her dressing room she could hear the bustle of the other actors—the boys tromping by, the whisper of
crinolines as the dancers flitted past. She heard the almost constant murmuring of cast and crew still gossiping, exchanging theories over what had
really
happened in Central Park on Halloween—gangs, mass hallucinations, aliens. Speculation had been wild and endless.

At least all of the excitement had served to draw some of the fire away from Kelley’s disappearance. Even so, it had taken forty-five minutes of solid apology and Quentin’s grudging admittance of the fact that he really had no other options before he agreed to let her back onstage.

But now? Kelley couldn’t care less. Even the sound of the quartet of musicians warming up in the wings did nothing to stir excitement in her.

She looked up at the sound of a knock on her door, which swung open. The glamour Bob had cast over himself nicely covered up the bruises he’d received at Auberon’s hands, trying to keep her safe.

She smiled wanly at the boucca as he held out a hand, her four-leaf-clover necklace dangling from one long finger.

“Figured you might want this back.”

Kelley held up her hair and turned so that he could slip the chain around her neck and fasten the catch.

“Can you make it so that this never comes off, Bob?” she asked quietly. “So that my power stays hidden forever?”

Behind her, she felt him hesitate. “I could…. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Kelley stared at her reflection in the mirror and thought
she saw her mother staring out from her own eyes. She imagined the surging, tantalizing energy singing through her veins silenced; the strength and power gone, and with it, the whispering malice that accompanied it. The simmering lust to do harm. The callous disregard for consequences…

“Power is power, Kelley. It’s what you
do
with it that matters,” Bob said. “I should know. And, if you want my advice, I’d keep all the power I have for the moment, if I were you. You just might need it….”

“To get Sonny back,” she finished the thought. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Come with me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

He took her by the hand and led her out onto the stage, which lay dark and waiting for the curtain to lift. Kelley could hear the murmur of the audience in the house beyond. Bob led her to the center of the deck, where the two curtain halves met, and held one open a tiny crack for her to peer through.

Kelley gasped. Sitting in the center of the front row were Tyffanwy and Aunt Emma. And sitting on Emma’s other side, holding her hand, was a smiling Sonny Flannery.

“It’s just for the show,” Puck whispered at her side. “He won’t be able to stay to see you afterward, but he asked me to give you this.”

It was an envelope, made of pale parchment with gilt edges. ~
Firecracker ~
was written on the outside; inside was a single wrinkled sheet of paper: page 26 of her script.

Sonny had circled three words in gold ink:
I love thee.

Kelley hugged the piece of paper to her chest and turned gratefully to Bob. “How did you do it?”

“’Twasn’t me—the Winter King gifted Sonny with enough of his own power to cross over.”

“And how did
you
convince my father to do that?”

Bob ducked his head in mock modesty. “A little wheeling, a little dealing…”

“What did you have to give up in return?” she asked warily.

“Oh, I didn’t really give up anything.” He waved away her concerns.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing much.” His eyes glinted. “In fact, I’ve found myself a bit of steady employment. After closing night, it’s back to the Unseelie Court for me. Auberon’s been lacking a decent henchman, it seems, ever since I left.”

“
What?
He beat the crap out of you, Bob.” Kelley eyed him in astonishment and gratitude. He’d done this for her. And for Sonny. “Are you sure about this?”

“You know what they say, Princess: Keep your friends close—enemies closer.”

Bob winked and left her standing on the dim stage.

Kelley turned back and put her eye to the gap in the curtain, drinking in every line of Sonny’s face, smiling with delight at the way he and Emma talked and laughed and couldn’t seem to look away from each other even for a
moment. She watched them until she heard the musicians start up the overture. Kelley blinked away happy tears.

Everything was going to be all right. She had her mother’s power. But, more importantly, she had brains and guts, and now she knew enough about the Fair Folk to try to beat them at their own game. Tomorrow Kelley would start seriously planning how to get Sonny back for good. But not tonight.

Tonight was opening night.

Magic time.

I owe a debt of heartfelt gratitude and affection to a lot of people. To Jessica Regel and Laura Arnold—my agent and my editor, two of the most awesome women I have ever met: They conspired brilliantly to get me to write this book in the first place and then went far above the call of duty to make sure they took care of me while I did! Thank you to Jean Naggar and the staff of JVNLA for welcoming me into the fold, and to the wonderful crew at HarperCollins: Editorial Director Barbara Lalicki for her keen insight and support; Maggie Herold, my terrific copyeditor, for making me look much smarter than I am; and Sasha Illingworth, my stellar designer, for making the whole thing look so damn good! Thanks to editor Lynne Missen and everyone at HarperCollins Canada for the warm welcome. Thank you, Mark and Danielle, for your friendship, your New York hospitality, and all the long walks through the Park—especially the ones at night! Thank you, Adrienne, for all the support. Thank you, Cec-monster, for keeping me going for all these many years. Huge love and gratitude to my family—especially my mom—for somehow understanding that I would wind up here, even if it was in spite of myself. And most of all…to John—for so many reasons, not the least of which is, without you, I never would have even made it past “what if?”

WONDROUS STRANGE
. Copyright © 2009 by Lesley Livingston. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Microsoft Reader November 2008 ISBN 978-0-06-175913-0

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