Chapter 15

Pillars of lightswept the night, shooting up into the sky from two enormous spotlights positioned on either side of the entrance to the Maharaja Majestic, as one Lincoln Limousine after another pulled up at the red carpet leading to the entrance of the busy theater lobby. Despite the rumors of a phantom inhabiting the place—or perhaps because of them—the who's who of Wilde City had turned out in droves to see the opening night of The Snake Charmer's Slave.

Raja Kahn and Serafina Somerset greeted everyone personally at the grand entrance leading into the lobby, smiling, shaking hands and air kissing the A-list of celebrities lining up on the carpet.

I snuck in through the side entrance, avoiding the limelight and trying my best to be invisible in the crowded lobby until—

"Buck?"

I knew that voice. It was the voice from the box of curiosities I'd found. I turned around.

"Harry," I said, my tone as muddled as my head and heart, and just as impossible to read.

He stood a short distance from me, taking two glasses of champagne from a waiter milling through the crowd with a tray of drinks. Harry stepped forward and handed me one of the glasses.

"I owe you an apology," he said, his eyes not straying from mine for a single moment. "I didn't mean it when I told you not to make me choose between you and my father. I will always choose you. I'm the one who came back for you after all those years."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because some things frighten me, and my father is one of them. Losing you, however, scares me to death. I said I owe you an apology…but not an explanation. At least not yet. Just promise me something. Don't go looking for secrets about me and my father. Don't go hunting for clues. Don't do anything to get his attention. Can you promise me that?"

"So I guess that means no Thanksgiving dinner at the Hart's residence this year."

"If you think I'm trying to hide you from my family, I'm doing it for a very good reason. I need to take over Hart Industries someday, and it's not for fame or fortune. It's something bigger than that."

I sighed, out of both frustration and a reluctance to make that promise. But Madame Chang's words circled my mind like a feather caught in a swirl of wind.

"Promise me, Buck. Promise you won't go looking for secrets you shouldn't know."

Eventually I nodded. "I promise."

He finished his drink and glanced behind him. Across the crowded lobby he spotted his father and mother, dressed to the nines and ready for the performance. "I have to go," he said.

He turned to leave and I called after him.

"Hey Harry. I know a great nightclub downtown. Maybe I can buy you a drink after the show."

Harry smiled. "Maybe I'd like that."

As Harry headed away, I felt the weight on my shoulders ease. I felt the puppet my heart was controlling begin to dance a little. I decided to head backstage for one last routine check before show time, just to make sure there were no snakes on the loose or phantoms ready to strangle someone with a feather boa.

I passed the dressing room of the leading lady, now Olivia Overton, whose seamstress was helping her on with an ornate headpiece covered in fake jewels.

"Ready for your first lead role, Miss Overton?" I asked.

She beamed at me. "Absolutely. This will be a performance to die for!"

Interesting choice of words, I thought, as I made my way further backstage, passing Stanley Small who was tying two ropes to the rigging.

"Welcome back, Mr. Small. How was your time in the cooler?"

Stanley took a deep breath. "Spending three nights in a cell with a guy named Bubba Brutus really gives you a new perspective on freedom. I think I've been to hell and back."

"I can imagine," I said… not wanting to imagine anything that happened between Bubba Brutus and Stanley Small.

A short distance away I literally bumped straight into Errol Hemingway, flipping through loose pages of script and rehearsing last minute lines under his breath. As we collided, papers flew into the air while Errol glared at me and shouted, "Why don't you watch where you're going? What are you trying to do, kill me?"

I apologized and kept moving, hoping that someone wasn't about to do just that… kill him.

A few feet on I pulled open a curtain and scared the living daylights out of Barnabas Blake who was trying to reposition the wig on his bald head in privacy. He plopped his mop in place, somewhat skew-whiff to say the least, and sneered at me. "Good grief, Mr. Baxter. You almost gave me a heart attack! Do you want to scare me to death?"

For a production that already had a body count even before the curtains had opened, I once again found the cast and crew's choice of words rather disconcerting if not downright ominous.

I stepped out onto the stage and looked over the empty auditorium, its seats soon to be filled with the crowd of A-listers cramming the packed lobby. I could see nothing suspicious onstage. The markers had been chalked onto the boards so the actors knew where to stand. The gaslights lining the stage were already burning, ready to be dimmed for the opening and brightened for the performance. Even the huge iron chandelier dangling over center stage was aglow with candles and ready to be lowered for The Dance of the Cobra.

At that moment, someone seized me from behind.

I gasped and spun about, ready to fight for my life, only to see Stanley Small standing there.

"Mr. Baxter, the doors are about to open. You need to leave the stage."

Just as he finished his sentence, the doors at the back of the auditorium opened and the throng of theatergoers poured in. I quickly disappeared offstage and made my way to the two seats all the way up the back of the auditorium that Serafina had so graciously offered me and Stella. "I'm only giving you these tickets on one condition," she had said at the time. "No snoring and no causing a scene. Hopefully nobody will notice you all the way up the back. They're the cheapest seats I've got. Be careful not to die from a nosebleed."

As I took my seat, I could see Harry and his parents taking their seats in the private balcony box right at the front of the auditorium, mere feet from the stage. I saw him use a pair of opera glasses to look through the crowd below. I knew he was looking for me, and eventually he found me, all the way up the back. I was about to smile, perhaps even wave, but at that moment his father tapped him on the shoulder and took his attention away.

A moment later, the lights dimmed, the orchestra began to play, and the audience applauded as the red curtains rose to reveal the two lead performers: Errol Hemingway and Miss Olivia Overton.

I looked at the empty seat beside me and wondered where the hell Stella was. As if to answer my question, I heard a loud "Psst!" from the end of my row. While the opera began, I looked—as did the whole row—to see Stella urgently waving me out of my seat.

I quickly stood and began apologizing my way to the end of the row where Stella grabbed me by the hand and hauled me out of the auditorium and into the brightly lit lobby.

Stella was panting, she looked like she'd just run half the length of the city to get here.

"Stella, what is it?"

"The snake…" she said, gasping for air. "I found out what kinda snake it is. The damn thing is rarer than teeth on a chicken. It'd be worth a fortune if you hadn't squished it under a wardrobe!"

"Get to the point."

"It's called the Diamond-Masked Cobra of Calcutta. Fancy name, deadly venom, and totally illegal. You'd have to smuggle that thing in and really know what you were doing."

"It comes from Calcutta? You think Raja Kahn did it?"

"That's a rather racist assumption," Stella frowned at me, before adding, "And one that I made too. But I did my homework on him. He has zero connections in the snake-smugglin' world. There's only one man in Wilde City who could have bootlegged that bad boy into town and he's already in jail. A man by the name of Bubba Brutus."

Suddenly I saw in my mind everything that Madame Chang had somehow been able to see. It all became as clear as day.

"It's Stanley Small," I breathed, my brain sifting quickly through the clues. "When we first interviewed him he said everything in his job had to happen on cue, precisely when the timing is right. That's exactly what Errol's secret admirer wrote on the card the cop read out when they were searching through Errol's dressing room."

"Buck, you're not makin' any sense! Stanley's been in jail."

"Which is exactly where he wanted to be. He made himself look as guilty as hell for the murder of Dominique Duprey, intentionally leaving his glasses in the trunk and even planting her body in Errol's dressing room as some sort of trophy. But he did it all just so he would be put away while the second murder happened, in order to clear his name. Only he timed everything perfectly, right on cue, so that he'd land behind bars with the one man who could arrange for a snake to be smuggled into the theater by one of his henchmen on the outside. It's the perfect murder. Not only was Stanley Small not here to commit it, it got him let outta jail so he could finish the job. It's clear as day. Stanley Small is the killer."

"But why?" Stella asked, desperately trying to keep up.

"Don't you see? Raja Kahn was right. Love is the greatest motive of them all."

Stella took a stab in the dark. "You think Stanley Small is killing the divas because he's in love with them?"

"No… he's killing them because he's in love with Errol! He wants Errol all to himself and can't stand to see him with his leading ladies."

At that moment, the strains of Miss Overton's Dance of the Cobra filled the entire building, from the auditorium to the lobby.

"Oh God." Stella and I realized at the same time. "Miss Overton's next!"

That's when I broke into a sprint, heading not for the auditorium, but for the side entrance, which was the fastest way to the backstage of the theater. I ran so fast I left Stella far behind as she tried hard to keep up. I burst through the side door of the theater and raced through the backstage area. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Miss Overton between the curtains of the theater wing, singing and dancing on center stage with veils twirling all around her.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Stanley Small standing at a rope tied to the rigging. But he wasn't securing the line… he was cutting it with a six-inch knife.

My gaze quickly ran up the length of the rope… to the candle-lit chandelier suspended from the rigging… hanging directly above Miss Overton onstage.

I saw the blade cut through the twine and knew there was no stopping it from breaking now. The rope was fraying fast.

All I could do now was try to save Miss Overton.

I sprinted onto the stage.

I heard the rope snap.

I caught sight of the giant chandelier as it shuddered then began to fall.

The spotlights blinded me as I threw myself across the stage at Miss Overton.

The audience gasped.

Miss Overton's notes turned to a scream as I caught her and tumbled across the stage with her in my arms.

A fraction of a second later the chandelier crashed to the stage, launching candles and wax into the air.

Several candles rolled across the stage and hit the curtains, and in the next moment—

Foooomp!

The curtains on both sides of the stage ignited in flames.

Screams filled the auditorium.

I pulled myself to my feet and Miss Overton along with me. She was more doe-eyed than ever, her face full of confusion and panic. From behind her Errol Hemingway suddenly appeared.

"Get out of here," I told them both. "Now!"

As the flames began to lick their way up the wings of the theater, the shrieking, screaming audience spilled out of the auditorium through every exit possible. I spotted Serafina, Raja and Barnabas all clamoring to escape. Errol and Miss Overton leapt from the stage and joined the terrified exodus.

Stella finally caught up and came rushing toward me. "Buck! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just get outta here," I told her. "And get some help."

Stella was already clambering off the stage. "Help? What kinda help?"

"I dunno! The cops! The fire department! Whoever you can find! Just do it!"

A billowing curtain shot flames across the auditorium and several gas lamps exploded. Ash began to rain down as though a volcano was erupting. I glanced up to the box where Harry and his parents had been sitting. Harry was shoving his parents out through the exit behind the box before turning back to look at me onstage.

Before I could shout to him to get out, he was climbing onto the balcony of the box and leaping onto the stage. He came hurrying toward me, shouting, "Buck? Are you all—"

But before he could reach me, Stanley Small appeared from behind him. He seized Harry by the shoulder and pressed the six-inch blade against his throat.

Harry froze.

More gas lamps exploded all around us as the last of the audience fled the burning theater.

I raised my hands, as if to try and calm the crazy look in Stanley's eye. "Stanley, put down the knife. You don't wanna hurt him. Just let him go and put down the weapon."

"Buck, get outta here," Harry told me. "Save yourself while you can."

"Shut up, Harry," I told him. "I'm not leaving without you."

Stanley snarled over the increasing roar of the blaze. "His name's Harry, is it? You two sound very familiar with each other. What is he to you, Mr. Baxter? Your boyfriend?"

I took a deep breath and answered, "He's everything. That's what he is to me. And if you hurt him, I will kill you. Now let him go."

Stanley laughed at me. "You're in love? How poetic… yet so tragic given the circumstances! But isn't that the way true love is supposed to be? At least according to the stage. Romeo and Juliet. Antony and Cleopatra. Buck and Harry. True love always ends in tragedy. Do you know why?"

He jammed the tip of the knife harder into Harry's throat and drew a drop of blood. "Why?" I was forced to ask.

"Because the ones who find true love are the ones who never deserve it. Unlike me and Errol. We deserve to be together forever."

The fire started to climb the entire left wall of the theater and dozens of seats burst into flames.

"Stanley, if you don't put down that knife, you'll never see Errol again. None of us will ever get out of here alive."

With a sneer, Stanley said, "So be it."

Dragging Harry along with him, Stanley swiftly headed backstage between two burning curtains.

The last of the gas lamps exploded and the flames devoured the balcony boxes on both sides of the auditorium as I bolted backstage after Stanley and Harry.

The smoke hit me instantly. I coughed and staggered, my eyes stinging as I looked up to see Stanley already clanging along a metal-grated walkway of the rigging, pushing Harry in front of him, poking the knife into Harry's back to keep him moving.

I spotted a ladder nearby and started climbing, the hot metal burning my hands. All around me the flames rose, engulfing the set backdrops and racing up ropes and curtains. As I reached the walkway, I heard a thunderous crash and saw the mezzanine balcony of the auditorium collapsed in a fiery eruption.

I didn't know how the hell we were going to get out of this blazing inferno.

But I didn't care. All I knew was, I had to get to Harry.

I looked around but couldn't see them, then above me, I heard more clanging and realized Stanley had taken them even higher into the framework of rigs above the stage.

I looked up and saw their shapes moving across another walkway, just as the flames jumped and climbed higher still, consuming ropes, sending sandbags crashing to the now burning stage far below and in turn sending blazing backdrops shooting up toward me, showering me in hot embers and tattered pieces of burning scenery.

I found the next ladder and climbed even higher.

When I reached the walkway, Stanley was waiting for me, still holding the knife to Harry's throat.

"It's the end of the line, Mr. Baxter," Stanley announced.

I saw that behind them there was nowhere left to go. Far above us was the colossal glass dome of the theater. A web of ladders, gangplanks and walkways weaved their way to the top, but there was no access from where we stood. To reach the dome from here seemed more than just futile… it was impossible. While far below—climbing higher and more ferocious by the second—raged a blaze that none of us could possibly survive.

Everything was gone now.

The stage.

The auditorium.

Nothing left but an inferno ready to destroy the entire building and raze it to the ground.

"Are you ready to die for your love, Mr. Baxter?" Stanley hissed. "I am. It's time to let your blood roast and let the flames of love consume us all."

He took a step to the edge of the walkway with Harry still at knifepoint.

"Not just yet!" I gasped through the smoke. "Let me go with him. If we're all going to die anyway, let Harry go with me."

Metal groaned and began to warp all around us.

Ladders broke from the rigging and plunged into fires below.

Several panes of glass in the dome ceiling above us shattered and shards showered down into the all-consuming fire rising fast.

The metal beneath our feet began to glow orange.

Stanley lifted a shoe and saw the sole was melting.

He laughed, then lowered the knife and pushed Harry toward me.

Harry stumbled forward and I caught him, his clothes drenched with sweat, his body hot… but at last, he was in my arms.

I glanced back at Stanley.

He held the knife out to me.

I took it and he smiled.

"I have a feeling none of us are going to need that now. I know I'll see Errol in heaven someday."

And with that, Stanley Small stepped off the edge of the walkway and plummeted into the fires of hell below.

Another explosion rocked the building and I heard a crash as somewhere amid the blaze another section of the building collapsed.

Harry looked at me, his face wet with sweat, his eyes furious. "Why did you come for me?"

"After all those years, you came back for me," I said. "You're not getting rid of me now. Anywhere you go, let me go too. That's all I ask."

Harry cried a tear of joy and laughed. "It's a little late, don't you think?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

I glanced beside me and saw a smoldering rope leading up to a pulley dangling over the network of walkways and gangplanks leading to the top of the dome. I grabbed the rope in one hand and the knife in the other.

"Hold on tight," I told Harry.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

I slashed the rope just below the point where I was holding it.

A giant cluster of sandbags dropped from above—

—as Harry and I soared upward to the dome.

As the sandbags exploded on the burning stage below, Harry and I landed on a walkway above, with a jolt.

But the flames had chased us.

More panes of glass cracked in the heat and shattered above our heads.

I grabbed Harry and pulled him along behind me, clambering upward along a crisscross of walkways and gangplanks until we reached the very top of the dome. The flames lapped against the glass ceiling now, cracking pane after pane until almost all of them had smashed and splintered.

I jumped from the top of the highest walkway and managed to pull myself up onto the roof of the dome. Smoked billowed up into the night from the shattered panes. I reached down and pulled Harry up after me, the heat from below almost intense enough to melt the metal structure of the dome.

Together we stood on the very pinnacle of the blazing Maharaja Majestic, the fire aglow beneath us as the theater collapsed piece by piece. From the streets below, I could hear the wail of sirens. The police, fire department and ambulances were all gathered, amid a crowd of people eager to witness the last show ever performed at the Majestic.

Spotlights had been turned toward us, singling out the two men stranded atop the dome of the burning building.

But there was no hope of anyone reaching us in time.

The blaze inside the Maharaja Majestic was melting the theater into the ground, and with it, Harry and I would soon go.

"What do we do?" Harry asked calmly. He already knew the answer.

"There's nothing we can do," I said, looking into his smoky blue eyes.

That's when he wrapped his arms around me and held me more tightly than anyone had ever held me… more than anyone could ever hope to be held.

"That's okay," he whispered into my ash-smudged ear. "If I'm going to die, there's no place else I'd rather be than in your arms."

Metal beams snapped.

Pillars of fire burst through glass and jetted high into the sky.

The entire building rocked and quivered on its foundations.

I drew Harry's face into my hands, looked him in the eye and said, "There's no place else I'd rather be too. I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, Buck. I always have. I always will."

We closed our eyes.

We kissed.

We held each other in that final moment and waited for heaven or hell to take us.

I felt the soles of my shoes melt—

—and yet I had never been happier in all my life.

I held the man of my dreams in my arms… and he held me.

As the fire rose from beneath us, I waited for a chorus of angels from above.

Strangely enough, what I heard instead was Stella's shrieking voice—

"Hey jugheads! Get a room or grab the ladder!"

Harry broke our heavenly, eternal kiss. "Did someone just call us jugheads?"

I opened my eyes.

That's when we heard the drone of the airship.

That's when Harry and I both looked up to see the enormous shape of the Zephyr dive between the skyscrapers of Wilde City, heading straight for us with Lois at the helm. The door of the passenger cabin under the belly of the ship was open. Stella was leaning out, holding on to a rolled-up rope ladder, with Lucy holding her by the heels.

With a mighty groan, half of the Maharaja Majestic lurched, the fangs of the fire pulling it into the ground.

Harry teetered, almost falling into the inferno below before I grabbed him with both arms.

The airship veered towards us.

Stella let go of the rope ladder.

It unfurled into the night, dangling behind the airship and flapping through the air as the Zephyr sped towards us.

I knew we only had one shot.

The drone of the airship became louder and louder.

The fire beneath rose all around us.

As the ladder passed over the dome, the end of it caught fire.

I looked at Harry and told him, "Don't let go. Ever!"

He smiled and held me. "I won't."

The ladder swept towards us.

The airship blotted out the stars above us.

The flames ascended beneath us.

That's when I grabbed the ladder as tight as I could.

It lifted us off the dome of the building, just as the whole of the Maharaja Majestic collapsed into a colossal pit of fire below.

An explosion rose from the crumbling building and Harry and I held on to each other—and the ladder—as tight as we could.

The giant burst of heat pushed the airship upwards, lifting us away from the flames of the burning building as Lois veered the ship left and right through the maze of Wilde City, eventually taking us up into the night, away from the sirens and streetlights and skyscrapers—

—and towards the stars.

Holding on to that ladder… with Harry in my arms… well, maybe I had just died and gone to heaven. Because if this was heaven, I was happy.

As the lights of Wilde City disappeared in the clouds below us, Harry kissed me.

We said nothing as the stars passed by.

We didn't need to.