Spellcrossed by Barbara Ashford Read Free Book Online

lightly on her arm. It was the first time I’d ever seen her use the power she had inherited from Reinhard, but it was clearly working. Although Doreen’s face was streaked with tears, she seemed more stunned now than heartbroken.
    A strange lassitude settled over me, like the calm that had descended during the staff’s “brainwashing” after Caren nearly stumbled on Rowan’s Fae kin. With a start, I realized that tomorrow was Midsummer’s Eve. This year, disaster had struck a day early.
    Reinhard released my shoulder, and my languor dissipated. I shot him a grateful glance and asked him and Mei-Yin to take the cast to the green room.
    As they began herding everyone into the wings, Hal moaned, “Poor Arthur.”
    Doreen’s head came up. “It was just his time. And this is how he would have wanted to go. Not lying in his doggie bed, but performing in a show he loved. Arthur was a professional.”
    All of us onstage nodded solemnly.
    “I should have known he didn’t have the strength for another show. But he was so excited at auditions.”
    Excited? He could barely shuffle across the stage.
    Guilt swamped me at that traitorous thought. When I recalled how Arthur had obediently played dead, I winced.
    “I’m so sorry, Doreen. If there’s anything we can do…”
    “I’ll be all right. But this will be so hard on the girls. They loved Arthur.”
    Well, the little ones did. They treated him like a combination furry futon and living doll, alternately sprawling atop him and tying bows around his tail. Arthur tolerated it with only an occasional twitch. But Chelsea eyed him with ill-disguised impatience and some of the older girls took their cue from her. I might have done a better job at hiding my emotions, but I’d certainly shared their frustration.
    “Don’t worry about the girls,” Janet said. “We’ll make sure they’re okay.”
    I was the only one likely to become hysterical. How was I going to find another Sandy and get him up to speed before opening night?
    The thought provoked a fresh wave of guilt. Poor Arthur wasn’t even cold and I was worrying about his replacement. But I was the director. I had to worry.
    Right now, though, I had more immediate concerns, including a grief-stricken owner, a nervous cast, and a lot of unhappy children.
    “We could hold a memorial service,” I suggested. “So we can all say good-bye.”
    A tremulous smile lit Doreen’s face. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
    “Tomorrow,” Hal declared. “Before the second dress rehearsal.”
    I exchanged a quick look with Long. “I’m not sure there will be a second dress rehearsal.”
    Doreen gasped. “You’re not thinking of postponing the opening?”
    “We may not have a choice,” Long said.
    “Oh, but you can’t! Arthur would want the show to go on.”
    Fumbling for a solution, I said, “I could rewrite Scene 2. And cut Sandy’s—”
    “Nonsense! Fifi will play the role.”
    Unwillingly, I pictured the unholy product of mixedbreeding that was Fifi. The stumpy legs. The too-broad chest. The pom-pom tail and curly fur. Granted the fur was sandy-colored, but the audience would be too busy gawking at her bizarre physique to notice Annie.
    “You didn’t think I’d let Arthur take on the role without an understudy?”
    No. Only the director would do that.
    “I worked with her at home. She knows the blocking and the cues. And she watched Arthur from the wings.”
    Until Javier banished her for piddling all over the floor in excitement.
    “All she needs is one rehearsal with Chelsea and Amanda and she’ll be ready.”
    “Maybe we should talk about that tomorrow.”
    “After the memorial service,” Hal said firmly.
    Janet cleared her throat. “I’m not sure it would help the girls to see Arthur being…laid to rest. That is, if you’re going to…”
    “Of course!” Doreen regarded Janet with astonishment. “I don’t believe in cremation. All those jars on the mantel. It’s ghoulish. Besides, Arthur would