Perchance to Dream Read Online Free PDF Page B

Perhaps with a bit more enjoyment, in some cases.” His gaze flickered over Mustardseed, who had rubbed his face nearly raw and was still making disgusted noises and rude comments about girl germs.
    “A heart might be stolen.” Ariel’s soft suggestion was nearly lost to the crackle and hiss of the fire.
    “I might steal someone’s thunder,” Bertie said, then held her breath when lightning ripped through the canvas of the night and the promised noise rattled her very bones. This was no sound effect, wrung from a sheet of metal in the flies; the real thing settled in the back of her skull and tasted of ozone.
    “Almost there,” Waschbär said.
    “Mind what you say next, Bertie,” Ariel said, sounding far more cavalier at full volume. “I don’t care to be burned to a crisp by an errant lightning bolt.”
    “Hush,” Peaseblossom told him. “This is the important bit.”
    Bertie clasped her hands about her knees until her knuckles turned white. “But I think I need to steal … the show. My show.”
    The journal appeared in her lap, a sudden weight upon her legs and mind.
    “That’s it, that’s it!” Waschbär clapped his massive paws as he reclined against his pack, at ease with the universe now that the game was done.
    Bertie ran her hands over the leather cover, nerve-clumsy fingers untying the knot that bound the journal closed. “It is like The Book’s paper, albeit less wrinkled and smeary.” Pulling their exit page out for comparison, she was gratified to see how its glow matched that of the journal. “See? ‘Following Her Stars’—”
    With a sizzle and a hiss, the page from The Book fused into the binding of the journal. Sparks of light flew every direction. All four of the fairies froze midair, Bertie’s hair frizzled with static electricity, and a hollow noise echoed around them, like an enormous door slamming shut.
    Ariel reached toward her, then thought better of it and let his hand drop. “Did you not stop to think that reading that line out loud might have acted us back to the theater? Why would you do something so foolish?”
    “I …” Bertie swallowed. “The Book is part of the Théâtre, the outside world is the journal, and my story belongs to both places.” It was one of those lies that, once spoken, became truth.
    “You’re truly the Teller of Tales now.” A shudder rippled through Ariel. “I hope you understand what that means.”
    Mustardseed flailed his arms about. “Won’t SOMEONE think of the PUDDING?!”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.” Bertie closed the journal. “Caution whispers in my ear.”
    “Would that ye’d thought o’ that a bit sooner, eh?” Nate’s soft words eased over her shoulder.
    With a glare at the ready, she turned. The last remaining sparks of The Book’s golden light clung to him in places, flaring, burning bits of him away. The desire to speak privately instantaneously transformed into Necessity. Leaping to her feet, Bertie trumpeted, “I’m exhausted. I vote we make camp and get a fresh start in the morning.”
    “At the cock’s crow?” Mustardseed said behind her.
    Moth opened his mouth, but Peaseblossom pointed a stern finger at him. “Don’t you dare!” she admonished. “Not before company!”
    Waschbär stretched until several vertebrae popped like champagne corks. “It would be good to start your merry romp on the morrow,” he said with a yawn that revealed his back molars. “It’s full dark, and the hour is late.”
    Ariel slanted a wicked look at Bertie. “And let’s not forget that there are dangerous creatures afoot.”
    The sneak-thief mistook his meaning but still concurred. “Lurking beyond the firelight are things larger and more fearsome than our friends the wolves.”
    As though summoned, the shadowy silhouette of an enormous bird dipped low over the campsite. Its cry sent dark, curved talons down Bertie’s spine as she followed Nate’s vague shape toward the caravan.
    Already