Nearly every parent had shown up last night, after Esti suggested that Rodney call them all. If anyone could keep people from panicking right now, Rodney Solomon could do it.

She had made a point of deliberately tucking the necklace beneath her T-shirt while she hoped Alan watched. She couldn’t let Rafe know she wore it, but Alan needed to see that she hadn’t taken it off. The policemen were pointless, though, and the absurdity of the situation didn’t help her headache.

“What do you mean, a hurricane?” Rodney’s voice rose into a brief lull between hammering.

“Hurricane Alpha,” he said a few minutes later. The activity fell silent while everyone listened to him. “My wife said they’re calling it Hurricane Impossible on the weather station. It’s tripled in size since yesterday, and is headed toward Cariba.”

“When does it hit land?” Officer Wilmuth demanded.

“If it stays on this course, landfall tonight. Worst case, sometime around sunset.”

“That is impossible.” Frederick anxiously tapped his foot. “Hurricane season is long over.”

“Except this year,” Rafe said in amusement. “Ocean’s too warm, atmosphere too unsettled.”

“Too many jumbees around,” Carmen added, staring coolly at Esti. “They should call it Hurricane Elon.”

Esti forced a smile. She knew Carmen was still mad at her, but she didn’t know what to say. She deserved Carmen’s anger. She deserved everyone’s anger.

“We got sixteen hours before it hit,” Officer Wilmuth said flatly. “The play is now cancel. Everyone go home, be safe from the storm.”

“Absolutely not!” Frederick folded his arms across his chest. “I have too many friends who rearranged their busy schedules for this showcase. They don’t have the time for a tempest. The show will go on.”

“Don’t need no backchat from you, Mr. McKenzie,” Officer Wilmuth said. “’Tis God’s will, no matter if you, and you Yankee friends, don’t understand the danger.”

“Lester, I have live here long as you.” Rodney’s voice rose over Officer Wilmuth, his accent thick for once as he argued with the jandam. “De theater it have de best shelter on Cariba, have stood hurricane dem for two hundred fifty year, so don’t you go tell me we ain’t safe here.” He paused. “Long as you ain’t afraid of jumbee dem.”

Rafe grinned at his dad, then pulled Esti close to him. “Check this out,” he whispered, pointing at the ceiling. “I just noticed that round black thing up there.”

When she looked at the catwalk, he gently nudged her chin farther to the right. She tried to ignore the growing arguments around them, swirling like mini hurricanes across the stage.

“Looks like a satellite dish,” Rafe muttered into her ear, “painted black to blend into the ceiling.”

She squinted at the black ceiling, gradually making out a matte black circle among the black-painted pipes and wires and framing.

“It’s a parabolic reflector. We used those things in science class to make reflecting telescopes, parabolic microphones, car headlights, and . . .” Rafe paused with a grin. “Focusing a voice onto a precise location. Your jumbee’s pretty smart. He probably even controls the direction, aiming his voice anywhere onstage he wants to.”

Esti studied the thing in weary astonishment. Of course Alan would be capable of that.

“Yeah, mon, the building is safe,” Officer Wilmuth continued, “but—”

“Once it hit,” Rodney interrupted, “God Almighty know when de island does recover. You know how long it had take last time, Lester. Me and Frederick we got a lot does ride on this, mon.”

“I’m going up there right now to destroy that thing,” Rafe whispered. “If it is his, I ain’t about to let him use it on you again. I bet there’s speakers somewhere up there, too.”

Esti slowly nodded.

“Frederick have one show dis afternoon,” Rodney said. “We show off Esti Legard, and we all home safe before it hit. If it catch we early, we throw a big fête until it pass by. I bring party food and rum to stash under de desk.”

“I have a suggestion.” Everyone fell silent at Esti’s unexpected interruption.

Danielle had slumped against a plywood tree when Rodney said Esti’s name, and Esti couldn’t stand it. It was all so wrong.

“We’re all counting on this,” Esti said tiredly, ignoring Rafe as he made his way to the catwalk’s ladder. “We need two shows, just like we always planned. One this morning, and one this afternoon.”

“Excuse me, miss?” Officer Wilmuth glowered at her.

“Two shows.” Esti glanced at Frederick. “If Danielle doesn’t get a chance to prove herself in front of your friends, I won’t do it either.”

“Yes, my darling. Of course.” Frederick clasped his hands together, his eyes shiny with stress and exhaustion. “Two shows it is.”

At Danielle’s stunned look, Esti could only shrug. “Would you rather go first, or second?” she asked.

Danielle just stared at her. “Why?” she finally said.

“Because.” Esti shook her head, then glanced at Carmen. “It’s not all about my name.”

Carmen gave her a half smile. “Go, Jane Doe, go.”

“You’re brave,” Esti added sincerely to Danielle. “And you’re a good actress.”

To her surprise, Danielle shuddered. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t . . .” After a moment, she straightened and shook out her blond hair. “You’re an impossible act to follow. I’d better go first.”

“Brilliant,” Frederick said briskly. “It’s settled, then. The sets are good enough. You all go home and get five hours of beauty sleep. Everyone back here at eight o’clock sharp. First performance starts at ten. I’ll get the word around.”

“Wait jus’ a minute,” Officer Wilmuth snapped. “Hurricane does take preparation, and the kids need to help they family board up they house and—”

“No problem, mon,” Rodney said smoothly. “I think of no better job for de jandam dis morning.”

Officer Wilmuth slowly shook his head as he studied his friend. “You gon owe me big-time after this one.”

As Frederick’s friends sampled rum in the courtyard during lunch, Rafe snuck into the dressing room.

“The bigwigs like it,” he said, with only a slightly lopsided grin. “My dad says their appetites are whetted.”

“Meaning they’ll eat Esti for lunch?” Carmen asked.

Rafe laughed. “She always makes me hungry.”

Esti winced, wondering if Alan was listening. When Rafe leered at her, she whacked him with Juliet’s cap, pretending to be more lighthearted than she felt. “What about the hurricane?”

“On course,” he said, growing serious. “The rain quit, but the clouds are looking scary.” He shrugged. “My dad was right, though. We’re in the safest shelter on Cariba. Standing room only, and it’s not just for the show. Word’s gotten around about our hurricane fête.”

Pushing back her exhaustion, Esti stared into the mirror. She just hoped Alan wouldn’t be stuck in the theater during her celebration party, brooding alone in his eternal solitary confinement

Esti stared at Romeo in wonder as his fingertips lightly brushed hers. Although his performance with Danielle had been perfect, Greg spoke even more beautifully now. She felt the magic growing, as it had during the Christmas shows. Despite herself, her Juliet automatically responded in delight.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this.” She shyly turned away. “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” he asked softly.

“Ay, pilgrim.” Esti felt her body warming as she looked at him again. “Lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.”

The warmth in her body grew stronger, and she smiled in astonishment. Greg was beautifully controlling her mood, drawing her along with him.

He leaned forward, blue eyes gentle with love behind the masquerade disguise. “They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

“Saints do not move, though grant . . .” Esti trailed off as her eyes flicked down to his gloved fingers, then back up again. Romeo’s mask was different this time, subtly covering his entire face. And Greg’s eyes weren’t blue.

She stepped back. The audience waited in silent anticipation, but the eyes had become wary. Alan knew she had recognized him. The show had to go on, she thought desperately. They were counting on Esti Legard to bring magic to the stage. You’re in control, Esti.

“. . . though grant for prayer’s sake,” she whispered. Her throat closed around the words.

“Then move not,” Alan murmured, “while my prayer’s effect I take.”

His voice twined around her like the web of an exquisite spider, trapping her with a longing that wasn’t his alone. Juliet wanted to kiss Romeo, no matter who he was, how he looked, what his name might be. She had so often dreamed of playing Juliet to Alan’s Romeo. She couldn’t stop him now; she didn’t want to stop him.

As he stepped forward, she licked her dry lips, trying not to panic. How would he kiss her through the mask? What would he do when this scene was over?

She heard an uncomfortable cough from Frederick.

Alan couldn’t play Romeo without a mask. Greg would have to do it, but . . . Reality slammed down on Esti, crushing the breath out of her.

“Where is Greg?” she whispered.

Alan backed away from her now, and Esti heard cast members stirring restlessly in the wings. No, she thought numbly, gasping for breath. She had dreamed of playing Juliet to Alan, but not like this.

“What did you do to Greg?” Her voice rose.

“Madam!” Carmen ran out onstage, trying to save the scene. “Your mother craves a word with you.” She took Esti’s arm.

“Did you kill him too?” Hot fear blazed through Esti as Alan spun away from her. She wrenched her arm free from Carmen, reaching out to grab him. He ducked, and her hand swept across his head. With a crash of plastic hitting the floor beside a rustling wig, Romeo was unmasked. Alan froze, fear and disbelief on his hideous face.

“The jumbee.” Rafe’s stunned voice rang across the silent stage.

Alan moved before anyone else could react. Grabbing Esti’s arm, he yanked her behind him into the wings. She was too shocked to struggle.

Aurora’s scream and Rafe’s enraged shout were instantly followed by Danielle’s shriek from the audience. “The jumbee killed Greg?”

Alan dragged Esti to the electrical box on the wall. With a vicious swipe, he flipped the main breaker. The theater plunged into darkness. More screams rang in the air as he pulled Esti behind him again.

“Let go of me,” she cried. “Let me go!” She tried to pull free, but Alan’s strong fingers tightened on her wrist. She heard a door click shut, then she swung around to look behind her at diffuse light coming through a grille-covered vent. Alan had brought her into a new passageway, one she’d never seen before.

Small video screens surrounded her, detailing every aspect of the theater. In one screen, Esti saw people running up onto the stage. A terrified jolt rocked her as she saw Greg, crumpled lifelessly on the floor in another. A familiar shape raced through a third screen, briefly darkening the vent opening beside her.

“Rafe!”

As Rafe spun around, trying to find her voice, Esti felt a gloved hand clamp across her mouth.

“If he finds us,” Alan murmured, his breath tickling her ear, “I will do whatever it takes to stop him.”

Icy fear swept through her, starting at her scalp and crawling down her spine. Alan let go of her, stripping off the masquerade costume that covered his black clothes. As he grabbed her wrist again, she looked back at the stage. Several police officers had their guns drawn, sharply ordering people off the stage. Someone called out in horror as they discovered Greg. Aurora’s voice cried Esti’s name.

Esti opened her mouth, then closed it again, light-headed. She was no longer Juliet, so what was the reality of Esti? If Alan was kidnapping her, her life had become a nightmare straight out of Leroux. But she would never brutally expose Alan to the world with a cruel sweep of her hand. He would never threaten her. George couldn’t be brandishing a gun on Manchicay’s crowded stage. Greg wasn’t really dead.

None of this was happening.

Rafe yelled in vain for everyone in the noisy theater to shut up so he could hear. Then Alan dragged Esti around a corner, and they all disappeared.

“Please,” Esti gasped, “you don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve no idea what I have to do,” he snapped.

The light disappeared behind them as they reached the back stairway, but Esti needed no light for the familiar steep steps. Alan dragged her across the musty basement, then shoved open the tiny back door and drew her outside.

The sullen afternoon light shocked her. Although it no longer rained, warm air draped across her skin, silent and muggy. Holding her wrist in a steely grip, Alan locked the door with his other hand, then turned and pulled her down the narrow trail behind him.

“Alan, wait.” As she twisted her arm in an attempt to free herself, she tripped over her gown. Without slowing, he yanked her back to her feet. Still stumbling, she frenziedly gathered red velvet up into her free hand. “Where are you taking me?”

He ignored her, but Esti knew it was a pointless question. They were going to the cay. No one could follow them there, not even Rafe. Especially not with the hurricane coming.

“How could you—”Her voice broke in fear. “How could you kill Greg?”

Alan spun around so fast she ran into him, his awful face inches from hers. She stiffened at the sight of his scaly, tortured skin in full daylight.

“I did not kill Greg.” He immediately turned around again, pulling her forward with wiry strength.

“Please.” She couldn’t let her terror overwhelm her. “You’ve sworn you won’t hurt me. Will you be forsworn?”

“So will I never be.” She heard his muttered words, but he didn’t slow down, nor did his grip lessen on her wrist.

“Is this how you repay my dad’s compassion, then?” Her voice sounded shrill and unfamiliar to her.

“Compassion!” Alan tossed the word over his shoulder. “Yes, Legard showed me compassion. I don’t doubt that he respected me. He acknowledged the mind and feelings behind my face when no one else would. Did you know that I was the one who convinced him that darkness was the best way to control his voice? I told him that practicing in the dark would keep his acting honest.”

Esti gasped as Alan continued, his voice bitter.

“He told me to get involved with the theater department at Manchicay School, but again, the actor was stronger than the friend. He didn’t wish for you to come here.” Alan dragged in a deep, painful breath. “The thought of you becoming friends with me frightened him. His compassion was limited, Esti.”

She stumbled again, and again he smoothly kept her from falling. She knew her dad had told Rodney that Manchicay School wasn’t the best place for her, but she had never dreamed the true reason.

Alan barely seemed to notice her frantic struggles as he pulled her into the water, plunging through a swampy thicket of red mangroves. The sea was very different now. Rhythmic swells brought the water from Esti’s knees to her shoulders, Juliet’s gown floating absurdly around her.

Her fingers involuntarily tightened on Alan’s hand as she saw the tiny boat in front of them. He waited until the swell subsided, then turned and lifted her, depositing her in the boat. As the water began rising again, he grabbed the branches of a mangrove tree and swung himself in after her.

“Alan,” she tried one last, desperate time. “Please let me go.”

“The sea is rough with the approaching storm,” he replied flatly. He sat down, then planted his feet wide in the boat and picked up the oars. “When we emerge from the mangle, I recommend you stay as low as you can.”

The sea wasn’t rough, it was terrifying.

The boat dipped and swayed in a macabre drunken dance as Alan pulled on the oars. They rode to the top of each ten-foot swell, hovering at the crest before plunging into the troughs between. Esti clung to the bottom, cringing with each new wave.

Alan watched without expression as Cariba Island retreated behind them. He automatically shifted his weight with the motion of the boat, but Esti saw the tightness in his scaly jaw as they approached Manchineel Cay. Huge waves crashed against the northern cliff, jets of seawater spraying them as they drew near.

Esti didn’t know how they could possibly maneuver through the crashing water into the cave, but Alan didn’t hesitate. He glanced over his shoulder, timing the waves and using the oars to keep them moving. A swell caught them, and he pulled with all his might. Esti swallowed a scream as they hurtled toward the face of the cliff. As the wave washed under and past them, the boat fell into the deep trough just in time for Alan to turn them around and slide between the narrow slot in the rocks.

The cave echoed with familiar deep booms that shook Esti’s bones. In the dim light, she saw a rocky ledge in front of them. The sea rose again as they reached the ledge. Alan leaped from the boat and pulled it over the lip of rock, then dragged it as far as he could until the water began subsiding.

“Get out,” he ordered. “Quickly.”

Her heart in her throat, Esti scrambled out, gathering her skirt into her arms and running several feet up the path. The tunnel quickly narrowed, becoming pitch dark. Although she listened for the eerie wailing, the cave ahead was quiet this time except for the gathering wind. She sagged against the wall, waiting for Alan to lead the way. Whether she liked it or not, her life was in his hands.