Page 80 of Potion Sickness

“Exactly.”

She sits down in her own styling chair. “Does Damien know?”

“He said yes earlier,” I say. “In writing, because Pru insisted. He had two conditions. One was that the cape goes on from the first scene.”

“Why?”

“Because he got a discount from the dealer by telling him it’d be in every photo and that it’d be great press for the shop.”

“And?”

“And also the glamour has to be him at forty.”

“That tracks,” Tiffany spins a full revolution in the chair, thinking. “You understand what you’re asking, though, right? When my grandmother did the Easter bunny thing on Mayor Perkins she was in bed for two days after.”

“Line of sight and an anchor,” Annabel says. “I can help imbue the anchor. The glamour will mostly live in an object he carries. You just have to keep him in view and feed it when you can.”

“The cape has a clasp,” Englebert says. “I have examined it, and it will do.”

“I’d need to see him. All night. Every scene.”

“You’re onstage or in the wings for most of the night already,” I say.

“Third Witch would be the type to stare,” Tiffany says. “It’s in character. She’s invested in Macbeth professionally.” She fiddles with some pins in her hair while she thinks. “But what happens if I drop it?” Tiffany says. “Live. Middle of Act Three. My arms are tired or Ms. Pelham sneezes on me and the whole picture goes and two hundred and forty people watch Damien Carter turn into a cat.”

“Then Cody kills the lights,” I say. “We have a small interruption due to technical difficulties, and then Gabe walks on and finishes the play as a very bad Macbeth.”

Tiffany laughs, once, and then looks at Annabel. “Do you think I can hold it?”

“I think nobody knows,” Annabel says. “It’s never been tried. Or maybe it has, and it was successful, so no one would know. I can’t cast the spell, illusion’s not my craft, but I can help share the weight. I can help imbue the clasp with magic so it lasts longer between touch-ups and I can brew you a sustainer potion for your focus and I can sit in the front row and watch the seams and do whatever I can to help if things start to fray.”

“I’ll try it,” Tiffany says, standing up. “If it drops, it drops, but at this point my dignity has nowhere left to fall.”

“Company call is at three,” Englebert says, descending from the sink. “We’re calling an emergency rehearsal.”

“Mari. One condition of my own,” Tiffany says. “I know you can’t write about the actual magic in the column. But if the show is a success, I want you to write that Shear Magic had a hand in it. Tell them I did everyone’s hair or makeup or something.”

“Deal,” I say.

* * *

The emergency rehearsal ensemble includes around a third of the company. Vivian is in the front row, and she seems cautiously optimistic about the plan. It’s summer break, so Cody is at the light board with nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon. Most of the lords are at work, so, other than Ms. Pelham, the lords are being played by folding chairs with name tags. Banquo, despite Englebert’s objections, is being played by Bandit.

“I know the death,” Bandit says.

“You will not be doing the death,” Englebert says. “You will walk beside me and say nothing, which I acknowledge is against your nature.”

“Then why am I in the play?”

“You are not in the play. You are an unfortunately necessary stand-in who will exit this facility immediately after this rehearsal and will not return.”

Pru made it, surprisingly. Addie is perched on the edge of the stage, leafing through a script, ready to read in for any role that needs it.

Tiffany comes out of the dressing room in her witch costume holding the clasp from the cape, weighing it in her palm. Annabel worked on it for an hour at the shop before rehearsal.

“It’s heavier,” Tiffany says.

“It’s holding more energy,” Moonbeam says, nodding.