Free Night Storm by Tracey Devlyn

others filed out. “My name is Edward Waters and I’ll be reading from Henry the Sixth ,act five, scene six.” He cleared his throat and lifted his hand. “Richard.”
     
    What will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
    Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
    See how my sword weeps for the poor King’s death,
    O, may such purple tears be always shed
    From those that wish the downfall of our house!
     
    Four more would-be actors followed Mr. Waters, each taking their place on the stage. During an excruciating long and unsteady monologue from Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure , Peter reappeared in their lofty viewing stand, his expression filled with panic. “Have you seen Felix, ma’am?”
    Charlotte straightened in her seat. “Only when he first appeared on the stage with everyone else twenty minutes ago. Why? What is the matter?”
    “He’s up next, and no one can find him.” Peter started back down the stairs.
    “Wait,” Charlotte called, her heart racing. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
    “If he shows up here, have him report backstage. Immediately.”
    “Of course, Peter.” Charlotte watched the stagehand rush back down the stairs, then turned to Piper. “Where on Earth could he have gone?”
    “I’ve no idea. Do you think we should help him search for Felix?”
    Charlotte’s palms itched with the need to do something more than sit and wait. “We don’t know this building well. Where could we look that Peter wouldn’t have already tried?” She forced calm into her voice and sat back. “I’m sure he’s suffering from a bout of nerves and merely stepped outside for a bracing breath of air.”
    Following Charlotte’s lead, Piper slowly eased back into her own chair, though her shoulders remained rigid. “I hope you’re right. Felix has been looking forward to this audition for days.”
    They sat in tense silence for fifteen unbearably long minutes. Charlotte no longer heard what was going on down below. All her concentration followed the horrid scenes her overactive mind conjured—Felix alone and incapacitated by a nervous stomach, Felix lying below an open trap door, Felix hanging from—Charlotte popped up from her seat. “I cannot sit here any longer. Come, Piper, let’s go find your brother.”
    Piper was at her side in less than a blink. “Oh, thank goodness. I was near to exploding with the need to do something.”
    Charlotte’s feet began the descent down the circular staircase; her hands skimmed down the railing with equal fervor. A few seconds later, the theater manager’s voice cut through the din of her heels clicking against the wrought iron staircase.
    “Mr. Scott. So glad you could finally join us.”
    Charlotte halted, as did Piper. Their breaths sawed through the air as they both strained to listen.
    “My apologies, Mr. Riordan,” Felix said. “I had a bit of trouble with my costume.”
    “Don’t be late on my stage again, Mr. Scott.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Glancing up, Charlotte caught Piper’s long exhale. She understood the young woman’s relief. Her own body sagged as her tension faded away.
    As she paused on the staircase, awareness of her surroundings crept along the edge of her consciousness, second by second. Her fingers clutched at the cold iron railing, and her backside pressed against the steep staircase. She was unable to go up or down.
    In her concern for Felix’s safety, she had blocked out everything but locating him—including her aversion of heights. But now, without that distraction, her fear had returned tenfold. Facing downward was far worse than the ascent. Everything below looked so small from this distance. Her world began to spin, and she closed her eyes to stave off her disorientation.
    “Mrs. Fielding, are you all right?” Piper asked.
    “Give me a moment.” Her assistant must have heard the quaver in Charlotte’s voice for she eased down several stairs until she could squeeze in next to her.
    “I’ve got you,”