The Dead Hamlets: Book Two of the Book of Cross Read Online Free PDF

stood in the pit with all the other people who’d bought the cheap tickets. It was raining now, so it wasn’t long before I was soaked. It was just like it had been in Shakespeare’s time. Strangely, I didn’t feel any warm glow of nostalgia.
    The play was supposed to be
A Winter’s Tale
, but that didn’t meet my needs so I changed it. I took my ticket from one pocket and the thorn from Kew out of my other pocket. I jammed the thorn into my finger deep enough to get a good well of blood. Then I wrote the name of the play I wanted over the name on the ticket.
    There’s more to it than that, of course. There are a few particular words you have to say, in a particular order. But I’m not about to share them with everyone. It wouldn’t do to have random people changing a play the instant they get bored. No play would ever finish its run if that were the case.
    If you
really
want to know the proper incantation, you can always make a deal with the Witches like I did. But I’d advise against it, unless you’ve got the same divine blood running in your veins that I have in mine. The Witches charge a high price—one I doubt you could afford.
    It was the Witches I was here to see. If they were responsible for the curse that was wreaking havoc with the faerie shows, then they’d know how to lift it. Finding the Witches is a problem for most people. But, as you may have noticed by now, I’m not most people.
    So I stood there in the rain for a while, and then the actors came on stage and started the play. It was two women and a man, all wearing business suits. The man carried a briefcase, the women had phones. The stage directions for the play I wanted called for thunder and lightning to accompany the arrival of the witch characters who start the play, and the sky overhead obliged. The whole world’s a stage and all that.
    “When shall we three meet again?” one of the women asked. “In thunder, lightning or rain?” She wasn’t enough of a pro to hide the surprise at the unexpected words that came out of her mouth. They weren’t the lines she’d memorized for
A Winter’s Tale
, after all. Well, I’d done worse things in my lives, and there were even worse things to come yet.
    The man hesitated a few seconds before blurting out the answer to her question. “When the hurlyburly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.” He half-raised his hand, like he was about to clap it over his mouth.
    The other woman was quick on her feet, at least. She raised her eyebrows a little and then gave a shrug, as if she’d decided to roll with it. She said her words like she believed them, like they were the ones she’d been practicing for months.
    “That will be ere the set of sun,” she said.
    Now the people around me started to look at their tickets, wondering what had happened to the play they’d paid their money to see. I put my ticket back in my pocket along with the thorn. I didn’t want to just drop those things on the ground and have the Witches find them. The real Witches, not the actors on the stage right now. Who knew what tricks the actual crones could manage with my blood?
    “Where the place?” the first woman said, looking at the other actors for help.
    “Upon the heath,” the man said, looking into the wings for help.
    “There to meet with Macbeth,” the other woman said. She gave the audience a look that seemed to say, hey, we may as well enjoy the ride.
    If you hadn’t figured it out yet, I’d summoned the play
Macbeth
up onto the stage. Some people summon demons, I summon plays. I’m not sure what that says about my character. Make of it what you will.
    The first actors exited stage confusion and there was a pause before the next ones entered. But they had to step onto the stage. It was the nature of the spell. So they eventually came on stage right and continued with the play. The show must go on.
    Although the show definitely changed as it went on. Each new character that stepped onto the stage