Rosie slipped Alastor a drug that would keep him unconscious for an uncertain amount of time. The next morning, she confided in Beth and Angel about the shard lodged in his eye and its effects on him. The news left them feeling both frightened and relieved.
"I knew it." Beth said. "I knew something was wrong. Even if Charlie being a mermaid freaked him out, he wouldn't have been that cruel. But what's going to happen to him?"
"I'm afraid he'll only grow colder with each passing hour, until his frozen heart shatters, leaving him devoid of love or goodness." Rosie replied.
"Can you help him? There must be a way to undo this, right?"
"There is, but it's incredibly difficult. The only way to dislodge the shard from his eye is for him to cry. To do that, we need to thaw his frozen heart so he can feel a sadness strong enough to bring forth tears."
"Okay, so how do we thaw his heart?"
"Would that tea help?" Angel asked.
"No, the tea isn't strong enough for something like this. We need something far more powerful than mere heat."
"Like what?"
"You have to appeal to his heart. You need to reach him with something so significant and dear that not even the ice trapping his heart can keep it out."
"But we don't know what that is."
"I know, and that's what makes this so challenging. Understanding the inner workings of another person's heart can be incredibly difficult—sometimes even impossible."
"Maybe not in our case." Beth said. "We all know Alastor. I'm sure we can figure out what makes him tick. Let's think: what does he cherish most? What brings him the greatest happiness?"
"Cajun cooking?" Angel suggested.
"No, that won't work." Rosie dismissed.
"Old-fashioned technology?"
"No."
"Good entertainment?"
"No."
"The suffering of people who deserve it?"
"No."
"Bad jokes?"
"No!" Rosie exclaimed. "It can't be something simple or material. It has to be something meaningful."
"What about music?" Beth proposed. "That's his greatest passion, and I don't think anything on earth could make him give that up completely."
"Too easy. We live in Louisiana, music is all around here which Valentino knows. There's no way he would have put that shard in Alastor's eye if a simple song could break its spell."
"But what about that special song?" Beth theorized, recalling the events of the previous night. "When Alastor came to get me, he briefly looked like his old self, as if he were on the verge of snapping out of it. And we just happened to be singing Mom's favorite song at that moment. Maybe that's the key—a song from the heart."
She paused, then had a eureka moment.
"I've got it! We need to get him to hear Charlie sing!"
"How will that work?" Angel asked.
"Music is everything to Charlie. It's not just a hobby; it's her life, her essence. Any song she sings comes straight from her heart, and if I know Alastor's heart, he won't be able to resist."
"That might actually work." Rosie said, considering the idea. "But Valentino won't let Charlie get anywhere near Alastor."
"Then we'll bring him to her. Rosie and I will head to the circus to get Charlie to sing. Angel, you stay here, and when Alastor wakes up, tell him where we are. He'll come to find me, hear Charlie's song, and return to normal."
"Alright." Angel replied. "But what if he tries to call the cops?"
"Just remind him of the time he evaded paying taxes for the hospital's new plastic surgery district."
"He did that?"
"Yeah. The rent was ridiculously low, and he absolutely refused to contribute to plastic surgery. He calls it a waste of money and insists that people should just seek therapy instead."
Meanwhile, Rosie and Beth carefully snuck around to the circus tent, peering through the curtains to see Charlie dancing in the center, her legs moving gracefully.
"Very good." Valentino said, clearly pleased with her performance. "You almost dance better than Vaggie. What do you think, Mr. Pentious?"
"She dances divinely, but doesn't she look a bit pale to you?"
"She's a mermaid; she lives underwater, far from the sun. Of course she's pale, you idiot."
"All I'm saying is she looks like she might be getting sick."
"She's fine."
But she wasn't fine. Her dress was tattered and worn, her body exhausted, her eyes weak, and her legs barely supporting her. Her face was tear-stained, and she looked like she was in sheer agony.
"You know she can't perform well tonight if you work her to death. Why not give her a break?" Mr. Pentious suggested.
"Fine." Valentino scoffed. "Take five, sea maid. I need a drink anyway. Mr. Pentious, go feed the animals."
As soon as Valentino and Mr. Pentious left, Charlie collapsed, wrapping her arms around herself in a desperate attempt to hold it all together. The pain she felt wasn't from being forced to dance; it stemmed from her heartbreak, a heavy burden that threatened to overwhelm her. She feared she might not last another two days.
"Charlie!" Beth whispered urgently. "Over here!"
Every movement sent sharp pangs through her body, but Charlie willed herself to stand and walk toward her friend.
"Listen to me, Charlie. When Alastor rejected you the other night, he wasn't himself. I don't have much time to explain, but he'll be here any minute. When he arrives, you need to sing to him." Beth urged.
Charlie looked at her, doubt etched across her face.
"I know it doesn't make sense now, but trust me—it will work. Just sing to him with all your heart."
Tears streamed down Charlie's cheeks as she shook her head.
"I understand you're angry with him, but he's not acting this way by choice. Valentino did something to him; he's under a spell."
"It's true." Rosie chimed in. "Somehow, Valentino got the mirror and put a shard of it in Alastor's eye. It froze his heart, and now he can't love anyone until that shard is removed. We believe that if he hears you sing, it might thaw his heart enough to make him cry."
Charlie shook her head again.
"Do you not believe us?" Beth pressed.
For a third time, Charlie shook her head, then touched her throat, opening her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged.
"Oh no!" Beth face-palmed. "Don't tell me—he took your voice!"
Charlie nodded sadly.
"What did he do with it?" Beth asked.
...
When Alastor woke up, fury coursed through him, and he was ready to attack Angel. He seized him by the shirt and pulled him into a headlock, poised to inflict serious damage—until Angel revealed he knew where Beth was and could take him to her. Angel prayed that Beth's plan would succeed; if it didn't, he was certain Alastor would make him pay dearly.
"You better not be lying to me, Angel." Alastor warned, his voice low and menacing. "Because if you are—"
"I'm not! I swear! They're right outside the circus!" Angel insisted.
Just as they stepped out of the cabaret, Angel heard a familiar voice drifting from a bar two blocks away. It sounded like Charlie singing, but with a more seductive and teasing tone.
"I thought you said they were at the circus!" Alastor snapped, impatience creeping into his voice.
"They are, but wait a minute; you need to hear this." Angel replied, heading toward the bar with Alastor reluctantly in tow.
Inside, men were whistling and cheering for a woman captivating their attention. She sounded just like Charlie, but she certainly didn't look or act like her. It wasn't Charlie at all—it was Portia, Alastor's eccentric fan. There she was, singing and dancing on tabletops, driving the crowd wild.
"What the hell?" Angel thought, bewildered. "What's going on here? That skank can't sing. Last time she performed at karaoke night, I was ready to hack off my own ears."
But today, she sang with an astonishing brilliance.
"La-da-da, la-da-di, la-da-da, la-da-da." She sang out to the crowd, putting almost all of them into a trance. "La-da-da, la-da-di, la-da-da, la-da-da!"
A man, drawn in by her allure, leaned in for a kiss, only to be callously kicked away as she laughed and flipped her black hair. With a sinister smile, she then turned her attention to Alastor and made her way toward him.
"La-da-da, la-da-di, la-da-da, la-da-da!"
She sang loud and clear, ensuring he heard her—and he did. The other men reached out for her as she passed, but her gaze was fixed solely on the bespectacled young man. Believing she had ensnared him like a fish on a hook, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss.
"Would you be so kind as to take your hands off me?" Alastor said, unaffected by her charms.
Confused by his indifference, she sang again, but the result was the same.
"Lady, you have exactly three seconds to remove your hands before I forget I'm a gentleman and throw you into a table."
Portia jumped back.
"I don't understand." She lowered her top, exposing more cleavage. "Don't you want me? Doesn't my song fill you with desire?"
Desperate, she sang one last time, and that's when Angel noticed the black pearl hanging around her neck, glowing with each note.
"Portia, let me make this perfectly clear." He said. "You're a filthy hag, and I wouldn't let you shine my shoes."
Her shock quickly turned to anger.
"Well, I didn't really like you anyway!" She scoffed. "I don't need you to be famous! I can sing now!"
"Yeah? And how exactly did that happen?" Angel shot back.
"None of your damn business!"
Angel's gaze returned to the black pearl.
"Nice necklace." He remarked. "Where'd you get it?"
Her hands instinctively clutched the pearl, as if it were her lifeline.
"I don't have time for stupid questions!" She snapped. "Get out of the way! My adoring public awaits!"
Portia shoved Angel aside and returned to the lecherous, drunken men, howling and moaning like shameless dogs.
"Can we go now?" Alastor asked.
"Yeah, sure." Angel ushered him out of the bar.
"What was the point of dragging me in there?" Alastor demanded.
"Never mind, it's not important. Let's just go find your sister."
"Today, if you don't mind?"
As they headed toward the circus, Angel couldn't shake the feeling that this plan wouldn't be as simple as Beth had made it sound.
"One freaky thing after another." He thought. "Cursed mirrors, a shard in Al's eye making him act crazy, and now some woman who can't sing suddenly can? I've got to find Vaggie. She has to know what's going on here."
He quickened his pace. There was no time to waste.