Douglas Rees - The Juliet Spell

“Ow! Blessed Saint Mary, save me now,” he yelped.

“Damn it, I told you that leg was weak,” I said.

“Don’t turn me into anything,” the boy begged. “I implore you, spirit, or fairy, or whatever thing ye be, have mercy on a poor lost soul.”

I put the cell phone to my ear again.

“—in the order it was received—”

The boy was cowering in the corner now.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen,” he said, crossing himself a couple of times.

Well, at least I had him off the table and into the corner.

“Sit. Stay,” I commanded, like he was a dog, and pointed the phone at him.

He whimpered and drew his knees up to his chest.

One of the things Dad always said about dealing with crazy people was that, before you could help them, you had to find out what reality they were living in.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll have mercy on you, I promise.”

“Swear you will not turn me into a toad or other loathsome creature,” the boy said.

“I swear not to turn you into anything. Now, my name’s Miranda. What’s yours?”

“Edmund’s me name.”

“Fine,” I said. “Now, where are you from, Edmund? And how did you get here?” My voice was getting calmer. Almost like Dad’s shrink voice. He would have been proud of me.

“London,” he said. “Though as ye can tell from me accent I’m not born there.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t have known that,” I said. “Where are you from originally?”

“Warwickshire, of course.”

“Okay. And who’s this Doctor Dee?”

“As I told ye, Doctor John Dee is the greatest man in England. A mighty mind that knows everything, a valiant heart that dares everything, even the darkest depths of knowledge. Cousin of the queen, friend of all the greats of England. Ye must know of him!”

“Nope. Never heard of him,” I said, kind of amazed he expected me to know some guy half-across the world. “But go on. Tell me what he has to do with you.”

“We were in his secret rooms in Cheapside…. Doctor Dee was casting a spell. A necromancy.” He crossed himself again. “Greatly have we offended. Thus am I punished. Oh, my God, have mercy.”

“Just get back to your story,” I said slowly and calmly. “What’s a necro—what you said?”

“We meant to raise the ghost of Helen of Troy,” he said. “For Doctor Dee, necromancy remains the last great thing undone. He wished to question her about the Iliad. To know how truly it depicted the battles. For me—fool that I am, I wanted to see Helen. To see ‘the face that launched a thousand ships and burned the topless towers of Ilium.’ ’Twas why I addressed ye in Greek at first.”

I was actually calming down a little. And because I was, my legs started shaking really bad. “Edmund, I’m going to sit down now. Don’t be afraid.”

He didn’t say anything.

I sat down beside the broken table. That felt better.

There’s a quick test they give you to find out if you’re crazy or not. If you’re ever taken to the hospital unconscious they’ll give it to you when you wake up. Here it goes.

“Edmund, I’m going to ask you five questions. Real easy ones, okay?”

“What means ‘okay’?”

“Okay? It doesn’t mean anything. I mean, it means a lot of things. It just means okay, okay?”

“I’ll not answer any more questions of yours, save you answer as many questions of mine,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “In this case, that means ‘yes.’ Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“First question. What’s your name?”

“Edmund Shakeshaft,” he said.

“Almost like the writer.”

“Writer?” he said, as if he didn’t know the word.

“Never mind. You’re Edmund Shakeshaft. Fine. Second question. What country is this?”

“I’ve never a notion,” Edmund said. “What country is this?”

I decided to tell him. “The United States of America.”

“The what of America?”

“Let’s go on,” I said. “You can ask your questions next. Third question. What year is this?”

“1597.”

“Fourth question. What day is this?”

“’Tis the Ides of March,” he said.

“Which is what day of what month?” I said.

“’Tis March the fifteent’, o’course, or a day on either side.”

Maybe it was the Ides of March where he’d been, but here it was the beginning of May.

“One more question,” I said, knowing it would make no sense to him. “Who’s the president of the United States?”

“Who is the what of the what?”

“That’s good, Edmund. We’re done. Now you get five questions.”

Edmund shifted a little. He was getting a bit more comfortable, too.

“First question. Tell me what ye truly are.”

“I already did. I’m a girl named Miranda Hoberman. I’m not a fairy, or a demon, or any of the other things you think I might be. I’m a human being just like you.”

“’Tis easier to believe ye are a fairy…. But ye said a bit of the Lord’s Prayer, which they say no unhallowed wight could do. So I suppose I must believe ye. Well, me next question is, if this be the Americas, what part of them am I in?”

“California,” I said. “It’s part of the United States.”

“Nay, ’tis part of the Viceroyalty of New Spain,” he said. “Nueva España. Doctor Dee has shown me maps. Why d’ye not speak Spanish?”

“I’ll try to explain later,” I said. “Go on.”

“What year is it?”

When I told him, he turned pale. “How can it be? I’m never four hundred years and more in the future.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” I said.

Edmund was quiet for a long string of minutes. Then he said. “Everyone’s dead. All me friends, all me family. Doctor Dee and everyone. Even the queen must be dead by now, and we thought she’d never die.” He looked so shocked I felt sorry for him. And, I realized right then that I believed him. I had to. Nothing else made any sense.

I held my phone to my ear.

“—order in which—”

I switched it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Being lost in time while Elizabethan wasn’t a crime in California.

“I have just one more question,” Edmund said. “’Tis a boon I would beg of ye. Will ye help me back. Back to me own time?”

“Edmund,” I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know if it’s something Doctor Dee did, or something I did, or something that just fell on you out of nowhere. I don’t know how to reverse it. But I will help you all I can. And so will my mother when she gets home. Okay?”

Edmund began to cry.

Edmund’s shoulders shook. His breath came in terrible gasps. He cried out to God, Saint Mary Mother of God, and Jesus. He called to his mother, his father, to Doctor Dee, and a lot of other names. Then he just wept. I’d never seen a man cry like that. I’d never seen anybody cry like that except my mother when my father left.

I felt so sorry for him. Strange as this whole thing was for me, at least I was still in my own time, with everything I knew about still around me. My mom and I had lost my dad. But Edmund had lost a whole world. And there was no way to get it back. I just sat with my hands in my lap wishing I could think of anything that would help.

Finally, when he had cried himself out, he crossed himself and said, “I am an Englishman. Many of us have been cast on strange strands before this. Come what may, I am still Edmund Shakeshaft. I thank ye, Miranda Hoberman. May God reward your kindness to me.”

“You’re welcome, Edmund,” I said. And then suddenly I had a brilliant idea. “Would you like some tea?”