Renee’s typewriter begins its daily clatter. She prefers to write outdoors, sitting at a little table on the deck that overlooks the ocean. Her face healed but the scars will never disappear. Eleanor put her in the way of script work. She’d been doing the work but found it tedious. Renee loves it. She always had a flair for a scene and now is writing whole scenarios, adapting other writers’ stories and even creating a few from scratch. She receives requests from many directors who knew her during the early part of her career. All of her work now appears under R. Lin, rather than Renee Love.
I gather up my sketchbook, my pencils, and my fabric swatches. I have costumes to design, meetings to attend later in the day, and Fred will be coming over for dinner.
As I walk through the house, I hear Renee call. “Any letters today?”
There are. Letters from Eleanor, Betsy, and Pola. We will read them together over breakfast on the deck. As I sort through the mail, I find one envelope from the studio. I stuff the others in my sketchbook to share with Renee. This one I slit open and read by myself. The neatly typed letter is the same as all the others. A request for any information that we might have on Sydney’s final film, any footage that might have survived the fire, any copies of the script, particularly Sydney’s original manuscript. The last part is underlined.
I treat it as I treated all the rest of the studio’s correspondence. I rip the letter into tiny shreds and throw the pieces off the edge of the deck. Let the wind take those words. Let the ocean drown them. I will never help the studio that encouraged Sydney and Max in their madness.
I will never tell them about the trunk filled with all those things, including the smoke-stained silver mask that Renee tore from her face. Humbert helped me empty the crates that had been marked for the studio and transfer everything into a sturdy steamer trunk. A trunk now locked and buried under old hay in the barn behind the Fitzmaurice house. Humbert checks on the barn, the house, and the trunk. He has instructions on what to do if somebody comes to Arkham with my key and a letter from me. He will show them the trunk, he will introduce them to the others. Humbert will let the crows know that there is somebody else to protect if they become lost in the woods.
I just hope that it is not Betsy. She wants to find Max. I would want the same if it was Fred. But still I fear for her. Despite her laughter and her courage, Arkham might destroy her. I feel in my pocket for the trunk key. It’s there. It is always there. I never go anywhere without it.
The key is a reminder, like the letters, that I led my sister and my friends safely out of the hall of mirrors and flame. I hope that nobody who I love will ever return to Arkham. But if they do, I will help them as much as I can. And I am comforted by the thought that the professor, Pete, Darrell, and the others are still there. The ones who protect those who wander lost in Arkham’s shifting ways.
Renee calls again. I answer and stride out into the California sunshine, to begin a new day with my sister.
Acknowledgments
There is not enough room to list all the people who contribute to the making of a single book. For all of you, especially the many librarians and booksellers who helped me find information about early Hollywood and the lives of Chinese-Americans in 1920s California, please know that your suggestions from idea to finish were greatly appreciated. The mistakes are my own.
I do want to say a special thank you to Dawn, who sent a website link, Lottie, who answered an email with a tweet, and Phoebe, who asked “how many words today?” Without these ladies, there would be no book at all.
While the characters in this novel are fictional, a number of 1920s historical figures are mentioned in passing. I hope you have the time to learn more about Tye Leung Schulze, Anna May Wong, James Wong Howe, and others. Their histories deserve to be better known.
This story would not be possible without the many researchers, preservationists, and historians who documented the vast international silent movie industry, saved what footage they could, and worked hard to present the diversity of the industry. I greatly enjoyed seeing your contributions at film festivals and theaters in Seattle. I look forward to meeting again in the dark to watch the silver shadows.
Best wishes to all the readers who shared this journey and thank you.
About the Author
ROSEMARY JONES is an ardent collector of children’s books, and a fan of talkies and silent movies. She is the author of bestselling novels in Dungeons & Dragons’ Forgotten Realms setting, numerous novellas, short stories, and collaborations. She lives in Seattle, Washington.
rosemaryjones.com
twitter.com/rosemaryjones
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City of the Dead
Crypt of the Moaning Diamond
Cobalt City
Wrecker of Engines (in Cobalt City Rookies)
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Collector’s Guide to Children’s Books 1850-1950 volume 1*
Collector’s Guide to Children’s Books 1850-1950 volume 2*
Collector’s Guide to Children’s Books 1950-1975*
Boys & Girls Book Series - Real World Adventures*
Encyclopedia of Collectible Children’s Books*
The Wizard of Oz and Friends: A Reader’s Checklist*
John Carter, Tarzan, and Friends: A Reader’s Checklist
*co-authored with Diane Jones
Table of Contents
Cover
Advance Reading Copy
Arkham Horror
Mask of Silver
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
By the Same Author
The Worlds of Arkham Horror
Aconyte Mailing List
Mask of Silver Page 27
