PANTOMIME
“Cut!" Mr. Reddy cried out for what was surely the hundred and nineteenth time that evening.
I sighed, scooting back from Ronan's grinning face and sitting on his chest, drawing out an oof. Upstage, at the throne, Alexa and Evie groaned, dropping their massive feather fans to the floor again.
"Isabella, you're being tortured, you're not meant to be torturing the audience in the process," Mr. Reddy barked.
"I thought it'd be easier here than Drury Lane," Evie muttered, leaning back against the makeshift throne that Hugh was seated on. "More fucking, less dropping a scene and starting over dozens of times."
I stretched out on the rug next to Ronan, prepared for a long lecture from Reddy to offer me a break from the scene. Evie was right, in a way. Scenes at the theater were usually short and with one easy point to make: sex. This was different. Reddy was trying to create a pantomime version of Birsha's origins and crimes against humans and monsters alike. There were costume changes, blocking, props, and dozens of cues for everyone. It took up all of the third act and was the most ambitious production I'd ever seen at the Company of Fiends.
It was a clear and loud condemnation of Birsha. It would create whispers, conversation, all of which would spread quickly once our audience walked out of our doors. Rumors our allies would be feeding and adding more information to. I just worried it would be a slow poison against Birsha's reputation in the monster community. Constantine was still missing, or hidden away in Birsha's collection, and I was impatient, missing and worrying over my demon.
"If we're supposedly in such danger from this Birsha, why are we intentionally doing an act that will surely make him more determined than ever to punish us?" Isabella hollered back at Mr. Reddy, rising from the floor and setting her hands on her hips.
"Girlie, if you don't listen and do your job properly—" Reddy snarled.
"You'll what? Have Goliath torture me for real?" Isabella shouted.
"Iz, stop," Evie snapped as Goliath reared back, a wounded look on his gentle face.
"Or will you have me chased down in some alley and killed like Beth and Margaret?!" Isabella finished at a crescendo, and the appropriate silence answered her.
Our guests, Esther and her clan, and the lamia, Valentina, all gaped up at the human girl in horror. Mr. Reddy's jaw dropped and his eyes widened at that statement, openly gobsmacked by the idea that he might've been directly responsible for the girls' deaths.
"How dare you?" Myra gasped, rising from her seat and resting her hand over Mr. Reddy's shoulder. "You know better. You do!"
"All I know is that I wish I'd never walked through your horrible doors," Isabella said, eyes glassy with tears, chin high and jutting out.
Silence fell over us like a stage curtain. I wished Isabella had never walked through our doors too, because now she was the reason Goliath was hunched in on himself and Frank was flushed with shame. She'd been hurt, I supposed. It was no excuse to throw that damage back at the monsters around her now.
Mr. Reddy's lips pursed, and his gaze narrowed. "I'm going to offer this, and I don't mean it as a threat, but do you want me to call the man and have your memory erased and send you out of here? If you've had enough of the company I won't try and keep you, but you can't leave us all at risk."
All eyes turned in Isabella's direction, her cheeks flushing red with anger and embarrassment. Only one girl had chosen to leave the theater in all the time I'd been here, but she had done it quietly and with no hard feelings I'd heard of.
"Maybe we ought to take a break," Myra whispered to Reddy.
But Isabella ignored her, round toward upstage, turning that bright blue stare onto one person only. Hugh, sitting on the gold throne, acting as our Birsha. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair as she faced him, his expression pale and hard.
"Is that what you want?" Isabella asked him. "For me to leave? To forget you?"
Hugh's brow crumpled, and he rose but didn't cross to her. "Bella, no, of course not. I love you."
Her bottom lip wobbled and her head whipped back and forth. "You don't."
"I do. But I love this theater too. I love the acts and the lights and the audience and—"
"The monsters. The ones you fuck," Isabella spat. "You love me, but not as much as you love fucking monsters."
Hugh's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. "I love you. But I think you want me to make you happy, more than you want to be happy with me. I love you, but no, I never wanted to leave the theater for you. If I'd known from the beginning that was what you wanted, I would've…" His head shook in refusal, shoulders dropping with a sigh.
Isabella turned away from him again, cold nobility surrounding her as she stared down to Mr. Reddy in the front row. "I need a few minutes."
He sighed heavily, but Isabella didn't wait for her permission, marching herself and all her wounded dignity to stage right and around the back to the downstairs.
"Someone should follow her," I whispered to Ronan, who nodded.
"Take ten minutes, everyone," Mr. Reddy called out.
The stage was a flurry of activity, Christine running after Isabella, monsters slipping into the wings, Hugh falling back into the throne with a weary resignation painted over his face. Evie rose and perched on the arm of the chair, speaking to him in a low voice.
"Reddy should've given that hire a little more thought," Ronan muttered.
"It wasn't quite his fault. Isabella came to the theater on the arm of a vampire. He left that night without her," I said, stretching my back and then rising up from the rug, offering my hand out for Ronan. "Myra convinced Reddy to take Isabella on rather than have her memories of the night stolen. Monsters can be careless with girls' hearts, every bit as much as we can with theirs."
Ronan stood, tugging on my hand and pulling me into his chest. His head dipped, lips landing on my nose. "I'll watch your heart if you watch mine, nut."
"He'll have help."
I twisted to smile back at Nireas as he approached us. "Deal."
Nireas's lower arms looped around my waist, two more hands resting on my shoulders, and his chin settling on the crown of my head. Ronan's thumbs stroked over the back of my hands and my eyes fell shut, sinking into the comfort of them.
"What would you think if I asked Reddy not to partner me with anyone else?"
I blinked, staring back at Ronan in the wake of his quiet question. "Anyone else…but me?"
His smile tilted, and he nodded.
"Would he… Do you think…" I swallowed and reminded myself that this wasn't about Reddy. Ronan just wanted to know how I would feel. "I'd like that. Very much."
"Yeah?" Ronan asked, brightening.
I nodded, grinning back at him. "I wish I could get away with asking the same."
"You could, if you wanted," Nireas said immediately. "Between Ronan and me, Constantine when we free him, and visits from Hunter and Jude, you'd have more than enough of us for scenes."
I bit my lip. Reddy had always used me with the guest acts who were too challenging for human girls—centaurs, trolls, a very notable tentacle monster. I wasn't sure he'd be thrilled to give up that advantage.
He doesn't have to be thrilled. It's my choice, I realized, releasing a deep breath. "That sounds nice. I won't bring it up now—Isabella's caused enough of a stir—but I think that's what I want."
"Then that's how it will be," Nireas said, kissing the top of my head. Mr. I-Own-Fifty-One-Percent-of-the-Company had spoken, apparently.
"Good, I have enough other men to be jealous of," Ronan said, gaze sparking with mischief.