Page 30 of No Charm Done

Elias raised an eyebrow. “I see. And the audience participates?”

Frank clapped and laughed delightedly—“Oooh, he’s fun!”—while Luna, on the other hand, had to pick her jaw up off the sidewalk.

“What did you people get up to in the Twenties, anyway?”

“Participation takes place in every possible way,” Frank said. “Shouting, throwing props, dressing up as characters. It’s all about breaking down barriers, darling. Be they social conventions, gender stereotypes, sexual inhibitions. The tedious boundaries between performer and audience, reality and fantasy . . .”

There’s something about the way he talks, she thought. Something that feels less like theater and more like . . .

“How are you kids holding up?” Frank asked, expression intensifying. “Time travel can be so very exhausting, can’t it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, darling. Did you really think you could portal here, seeking my assistance—for a second time, I might add—and I wouldn’t notice? Really, Luna Melrose. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Myrna,” Luna whispered. “Oh, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“In this aspect, I go by Dr. Frank, if you please.” The god bowed theatrically. “One must commit to the role, after all.”

Luna expected Elias to be completely lost, but when she looked at him, he was nodding. “You’re the god Luna mentioned, yes? And you collect your hosannas through . . . what did you call it? Participatory theater?”

“Whenever someone shouts ‘asshole’ at poor Brad over there, whenever someone throws rice at a wedding scene or dresses up in fishnets and corsets . . .” Frank shrugged elegantly. “It’s all an offering to me.”

“Clever,” he said approvingly. “No churches to maintain, no formal ceremonies to organize. Just⁠—”

“Attention, attention, attention—I love it so. Now then. I can only assume by your presence in 1977 that your little time-travel adventure didn’t go quite as planned?”

“It went horribly,” Luna admitted. “We’re stuck in the wrong year, our magic is all wonky, and we need to get back to our respective time periods.”

“Oh, how delicious! Let me guess. You want to go forward, he wants to go back, and you’re both too stubborn to admit that what you really want is to stay with each other?”

“Absolutely not! That’s not—we don’t⁠—”

“Oh, of course not,” Frank cooed. “You want my help? That’s going to cost you.”

“Such as?” Elias asked.

Luna was surprised to hear no wariness in his voice. Just curiosity. What happened to the uptight jackass I arrived with?

Frank’s grin turned absolutely wicked. “Oh, darling. Given my current . . . incarnation . . . I think something appropriately theatrical is in order.”

Given the vibe of Rocky Horror, Luna had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going. “What did you have in mind?”

“A kiss, naturally.” Frank’s red lips curved into a smile that would have sent the Cheshire cat into a fit of envious weeping. “For me, from each of you. A real kiss, mind you. None of this air-kissing nonsense or pecks on the cheek you reserve for grandmothers.”

“No way,” Luna replied immediately. The words came out sharper than she’d intended. All around, she could hear the shadow cast tittering, feel them watching her with undisguised delight. “That’s . . . that’s completely inappropriate.”

“Oooh,” Columbia cackled. “She’s such a Janet.”

“Slut!” shouted the crowd.

“Inappropriate?” Frank looked genuinely curious. “How so?”

“Because . . .” Luna struggled for words that wouldn’t reveal herself. “Well, look at this crowd! We can’t do . . . that . . . in front of all these . . .” Trailing off, she gestured helplessly at Frank’s fans.

“Darling, in front of a crowd is the best way to do it.”

“But . . . but . . . okay, also? He’s from 1926! You can’t him expect to kiss a, uh . . .”