The Dead Hamlets: Book Two of the Book of Cross Read Free Page A

death, as it had when Morgana stole her from Penelope’s dead womb long turned to dust and birthed her. Amelia was still dead, like Penelope, yet somehow still living and aging.
    “Oh yes, our daughter is older now,” Morgana said, as if she’d just remembered.
    “She is not your daughter,” I said.
    “Isn’t she?” Morgana said. “I seem to recall bearing her.”
    “You took her,” I said. The words were like ash in my mouth. “You took her from Penelope.” And me.
    Morgana shrugged, like the distinction was lost on her. Maybe it was. The faerie had always had peculiar ideas about children and ownership.
    “She was entertaining at first, as a child,” Morgana said as I stared at Amelia wandering aimlessly about on the stage. I tried to imagine her as a child but couldn’t. I had seen none of that time. Morgana had stolen Amelia’s childhood from me just as she had stolen Amelia herself. I didn’t know I could feel even emptier inside until that moment. “But I grew weary of her endless questions and so hurried things along a little,” Morgana added.
    “What is the meaning of this?” I said. I wanted to run to Amelia, to take her into my arms and spirit her away. But I knew it would not be so easy to take her from the faerie queen and her court. Especially as long as I wore that ring.
    “Amelia is going to appear in our performances of
Hamlet
from now on,” Morgana said. “She is going to play the part of Ophelia.” Morgana put a hand to her lips, like she was trying to suppress more laughter, or maybe something else. Who knew what. “I certainly hope nothing happens to her.”
    “We must be patient,” Amelia said, moving to one of the stage wings now. She didn’t look at me. “But I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him in the cold ground.”
    I recognized the passage. The madness scene after she has learned of the death of her father. I waited for her to look at me, but instead she looked at the corpse of Polonius on the stage.
    “Poor Ophelia,” Morgana said. “Such a tragic fate for one so young.”
    I would have killed Morgana then if I had been able. Or, failing that, I would have warned her of the wrath I was capable of. But she knew all that. And she knew I couldn’t do such things when I was under her spell, even if I had grace. Just like she knew I would agree to anything to save Amelia from another death.
    Amelia wandered off the stage, back into the wings, without looking at me. So I turned my attention to Morgana again.
    “What do I get in return for helping you?” I asked.
    Morgana leaned in and kissed my left cheek. “I will give you visitation rights to your daughter,” she breathed into my ear. She kissed my right cheek. “And you will have my gratitude,” she breathed into my other ear.
    I felt myself nodding, even though I wanted more than that. I wanted my daughter back. I wanted ownership of my soul back. But I couldn’t resist Morgana. Damn that enchantment!
    Morgana stepped away from me, and the new distance between us physically hurt inside.
    “We will call you for our next performance,” she said. “So ready yourself.”
    “I’m ready now,” I said and stepped out into the aisle. To my credit, I was only swaying a little. The events of the night had rapidly sobered me up. Well, somewhat sobered me up.
    Morgana looked me up and down. “You are far from ready,” she said. She turned and walked away from me. “I can’t believe I once took you into my bed.”
    “It was more than once,” I muttered, but I shouldn’t have said anything. The thought of those nights made me fall back into my seat again.
    “Enjoy your memories,” Morgana called over her shoulder. “They are all you will ever have of me now.” She went back down the aisle toward the stage. The house lights went out, and the spotlight flickered and spun wildly about the theatre for a moment. When it settled back on the stage, I could see that Morgana was gone, as were Puck