The Juliet Spell

I’d cast a spell and it had worked. But it hadn’t worked right. Something was very, very wrong, and I didn’t have a clue what it was, or how to fix it. I was scared, more scared than I’d known I could be.

“Damned spirit, I charge thee, make Doctor D. appear!” the boy shouted. “By the power of the Cross I command thee!”

That made me mad. It was like some guy coming to your door trying to sell you his religion. And being scared already, being mad on top of it made me furious.

“Who the hell are you?” I said again. “What did you just do?”

“I am friend and follower to Doctor D.,” he said. “Who has power over such as ye. Ye know better than I how I come to be here. Release me and return me to him.”

“Get out of here,” I said. “Go back where you came from.”

“Summon Doctor D., or send me back,” the boy said. “I’ll not leave this circle.”

“Shut up and get off the table,” I said, and my voice was so tough even I was scared of it. “Get off right now. It wobbles.”

“Ha, ha. Ye’d like that very well,” the boy sneered. “Ye know well ye cannot hurt me so long as I remain within me circle.”

“It’s my circle,” I said.

“It is?” He looked down, and saw my round tabletop. “Oh, God, I am truly lost. Saint Mary, help me now.”

“If you don’t shut up and get off my table and get out of here, I’m calling 911,” I said, pulling out my cell phone.

He cringed when he saw it.

“No hellish engine shall conjure me from this spot,” he said. “Fetch ye Doctor D. at once, devil thing.” He waved his cross around some more.

I punched in 911.

“All of our lines are busy now,” a so-friendly recording told me. “Please wait and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.”

“Shit,” I said.

“Doctor D.! Doctor D.!” the boy shouted. “Come ye to me.”

“The cops are coming,” I said, waving my cell phone. “I just said ‘shit’ because I’m excited.”

“Doctor D.!”

Then I had a wild idea. Before Dad went off to develop himself, he used to work out of the house. Maybe this guy was some new kind of crazy, and had come looking for him. This wouldn’t explain little things, like how he got here out of thin air, but like I said, it was a wild idea.

“Are you looking for my dad?” I said. “He’s a doctor, but he’s gone. He left us. But nobody calls him Doctor D.”

“Nay, ye evil wight, I call on Doctor John Dee—John Dee, the greatest man in England. What have ye done with him?”

I held the phone to my ear.

“—your call will be answered—”

A weird cold calm came over me. Whatever was going on, this guy was more frightened of it than I was. I could take control of this situation if I could get control of myself. Treat him like Dad would have: like a patient. Even if he wasn’t crazy, the situation was.

“If you get down off the table and sit down at it and calm down a little, I’ll put the phone away and try to help you,” I said. “Otherwise, you can explain it to the cops when they get here.”

“If ye are not a demon, give me a sign,” the boy said.

“What kind of a sign do you want?”

“Ye must say the Lord’s Prayer.”

“I’m not going to pray,” I said.

“Aha! I knew ye were a servant of the evil one! Help me, Doctor Dee, help me!”

“Oh, all right, damn it. One line. Okay?” I tried to remember Sunday school, but I’d only gone about six times and I hadn’t really liked it. Then I recalled something… “‘Our Father who art in heaven.’ Now get the fuck down.”

The boy looked really confused now. “Ye said the words,” he said. “Ye said the words and did not burst into flames.”

“Yessss… Now get down. And sit down over there.”

“If ye are not a demon, are ye an angel?” the boy asked.

“No,” I said. “Get down.”

“Then are ye a fairy?”

“Not even close. Get down. That table really does have a weak leg. I’m not kidding.”

“Return Doctor Dee and I will,” the boy said.

“I don’t know where he is,” I replied. “You’re the only one here besides me, and you shouldn’t be. But if you’ll start calming down I’ll try to help you.”

“Tell me first what manner of creature ye be. Tell me truly by the power of the Cross.”

“I’m just a girl who doesn’t like people breaking into her house and pitching their religion at her,” I said. “Especially when they erupt out of thin air.”

“A girl? Nay, wench. Ye are like no girl on earth. Ye dress in pants like a Tartary savage, ye’er arms are bare as sticks. Ye’er hair is shorter than mine own. Ye speak strange words in an unknown accent. And ye’ve a—a conjuring thing there in ye’er hand to summon— Copse, ye’er familiar, I doubt not. Tell me what ye truly are.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” I said, trying for calm again. “Why don’t you get down off the table and sit over there in the corner and tell me what you think is going on? ’Cause I don’t have a clue.”

“I’ll not—ye are Queen Mab, or one of her servants.”

Mab, I thought. Queen of the fairies. Mercutio talks about her in Romeo and Juliet. He thinks I’m her?

Then the table collapsed. The boy fell backwards, my little round tabletop flew out from under his feet, and his head hit the wall.

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

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