Any Man So Daring Read Online Free Page A

intrigue.
    Did he plot?
    Three years ago, with Marlowe, he’d rescued the king and queen of fairyland — and the whole mortal world with them — from a power darker than any dreamed by cloistered monks in their worst nightmares, or the darkest visions of mystics who saw apocalypse and destruction in the shadowed years ahead.
    Oh, Will plotted, had plotted and now he wanted to plot no more. He wanted to remain a mortal among mortals and to know no more of fairyland and its dark corners.
    His laugh halted, abruptly, on something like a hiccup, and Will read alarm in Ned Alleyn’s scared features.
    Ned’s eyes looked like they’d drop out of his face, and their panicked look had become something else, a stare of great cunning, an examining glare, like that of a physician with a very ill patient. “If it’s not plots,” he said. “If it’s not plots, then perhaps it’s witchcraft, friend Will.” Ned’s hands grabbed Will’s sleeves and held tight -- white, thin fingers grasping the black velvet, like spiders clinging to the sides of a gallows. “Perhaps it’s witchcraft. Perhaps you’ve been charmed.”
    Will felt blood respond to his cheeks, though his lips remained mute. Had he been charmed? Who knew? Once you’d been touched by the fairyworld, would you ever be clean again? Had not the fairyworld sought Marlowe out, thirteen years after Marlowe’s last involvement with them?
    Will shook his head to Ned Alleyn’s question deferring answer.
    Ned sighed impatiently. “You actors and playwrights are all the same — those of you who keep your wives far away. Looking for young ladies to still your pain and idle away your solitude, you scant notice if the lady is good or means you evil. And most such bawds, perforce, mean you evil. I, myself, always thought that was what brought Marlowe down — an evil word pronounced by some hag in some black midnight.” Now Ned pushed his face close to Will’s and asked in a confidential whisper, “Did you, perhaps, Will, disappoint some woman, lie to some bawd, and bring on yourself the cooking of bats and dead man’s fingers in a spell that makes your blood boil and your mind race?”
    Will tried to shake his head, but what if his problem were truly enchantment? For Marlowe had died in a horrible manner, killed by a supernatural being. Perhaps Marlowe walked the Earth, full of hatred or need for revenge. Perhaps Marlowe...
    Again, Will felt as though Marlowe stood just behind him, Marlowe’s grave-cold breath brushing his neck and making the hair there stand on end.
    Should Will turn he would see Marlowe standing there, staring at Will with amused pity in his one remaining eye.
    The feeling was so intense that Will did not dare turn and instead stared at Ned’s face and remained still feeling like a hunted animal brought to ground and unable to move.
    “That is the problem, is it not?” Ned said, softly. And, without waiting for an answer, added, “Get yourself to Shoreditch. There, beside the sign of the snake, you shall find a small brown door, which, when knocked upon, will reveal a mistress Delilah. Mistress Delilah will remove the ill that’s been done to you quickly enough and then can you write my play.” Ned smiled, the sweet smile of the completely deranged who, having obsessed on something, care for nothing else. “And have it ready a week hence.”
    Will swallowed and made a sound that might be interpreted as assent. Was Marlowe’s ghost truly standing behind him? And if he were, would Ned Alleyn see Marlowe?
    Ned looked only at Will, and spared no look at the shadows behind Will. “Good. Get you to Mistress Delilah. She will not disappoint.” Thus, with a tap on Will’s shoulder, he turned on his heel and left the room, never turning back.
    Will wanted to scream for him to turn back, wanted to yell that Ned should turn back and look — look behind Will and see if Marlowe’s ghost stood there.
    Mistress Delilah , Will thought . Beside the sign