by Tanya Huff
“So what’s with the lights in the sky?”
Jack straightened, allowing the subject to be changed. “Sammy Kline’s a janitor out at SFU. Every payday he goes on a bender and reports lights in the sky.” Pale brows drew in. “Any chance he could be right?”
Another shrug. “Beats me. I don’t do aliens.”
“I can’t work like this!” Mason’s protest cut off whatever smart-ass response Jack was about to make. When he wanted to get his point, across the star of Darkest Night fell back on skills he’d learned doing summer theater unmiked in leaky tents situated by a major highway that was uphill—both ways—from his drafty and unheated garret room. No one had suffered for their art like Mason. “Look! Right there! There is a cherry in my coffin!”
“Mason…” Peter’s voice faded just below where they could hear it.
Mason and a cherry; that was just too easy. Even across the soundstage, Tony could hear the snickers.
“I called quiet, people!” Adam had been around the business too long to allow any amusement to show in his voice. “Settle down! And rolling!”
“Rolling,” Tony repeated softly.
“Mark!”
They couldn’t hear the scene called, but they heard the clapper.
“Action!”
“Action…” He wanted to be by the camera watching Mason overact, the only demons on the set the metaphorical demons in Raymond Dark’s past. He wanted bad coffee and long hours and he very much didn’t want to be tucked off to one side while he dealt with the weirdness du jour. He wanted his life back. There had to be a way he could deal with this shit instead of just reacting to it. Leah’s original idea of preventing the demons from crossing over was a good one, but finding them by driving around the lower mainland was stupid and inefficient.
He had to stop thinking like a TAD and start thinking like a wizard if he ever wanted a chance to be a TAD again.
Yeah. That’s it. Aim high.
“So this is the infamous game of spider solitaire.”
“Infamous?” Tony smacked Jack’s hand away from the keyboard and winced as it returned to impact against the back of his head.
“The game that masks the wonders of wizardry.”
Tony shot him a sideways look as he scrolled down the index. “You’ve been talking to Amy.”
“No law against it.” He winked over the cardboard lip of his coffee cup. “And like I said, she’s cute.”
“She’s not your type.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re not her type. You’re way too normal.”
A pale brow arced up. “I took a sick day to hunt demons.”
“Maybe normal isn’t the right word.” Tony paused and frowned at the screen. “Here it is. Finding.”
“What? Nemo?”
Tony double-clicked the icon. “There’re a few files in here. Finding Living Creatures…”
“The demons are living.”
“Yeah, but we’re not trying to find demons, we’re trying to find where demons will be.”
“Time travel?”
“Not allowed.”
Jack finished his coffee and crushed the cup. “Too bad.”
“Finding Inanimate Objects.”
“I’ve lost my TV remote.”
“It’s in the sofa cushions.”
“I am in awe of your power. Nothing on finding your way to hell?”
“Wrong reference material.” Tony grinned as Jack snorted. “Here it is. Finding a Power Source.”
“You need to be plugged in?”
“I don’t think so.” He scanned the instructions. “I need a map.”
“I’ve got one in my truck.”
The wardrobe department needed more space. Which was pretty much true of every department but finance; they had plenty of space but needed more money. Wardrobe made it obvious with a leaning tower of shoe boxes, shelves six deep in hats, and bolts of fabric piled by color and weight. Since most of the fabric had been bought as remainders, some of the colors were a little frightening. A huge chart delineating what costumes were needed and when covered one wall. Sketches had been pinned up to every nonmoving surface as well as a couple of surfaces that weren’t moving now but would be later. The actual clothing hung out in the hall.
When Tony came in with Jack’s map, he found Alison Larkin on her knees in front of the thinnest of the staff writers, adjusting the length of an apron over a full peasant skirt. Dana, her most recent assistant, sat bent over one of the three sewing machines.
“I need to iron a map.”
“We’re busy,” Alison snapped without looking up.
“I don’t need you to iron it,” Tony amended, wondering if she’d ever swallowed a pin. “I need to iron it.”
“Why? Never mind. Don’t touch that dirndl on the ironing board! Toss the sheet of white felt down on the cutting table and do it there. And Roger…” She slapped a hairy calf. “…stop fucking moving, or I’ll stick you on purpose. We’ve got another eight of these to get through.”
Be sure the map is free of creases.
Ironing the map, not a problem. Not much of a problem anyway. Getting it back to the soundstage without folding it was a little trickier. Tony shuffled sideways through the costumes, arms outstretched, swearing softly under his breath and wondering why they had half a rack of silver lamé jumpsuits.
The door out into the production office opened as he passed and only a last second, desperate lunge to the right kept Leah—and Lee right behind her—from slamming new creases into his map.
“Tony! Good news!””
He continued shuffling toward the soundstage. “I could use some.”
“It’s possible that because of the way the energy is being used this Demonic Convergence won’t go on as long as it has in the past.”
“According to?”
“According to the book that your friend Henry provided last night.” Following close behind, she waved it in his general direction.
Tony peered at it over the upper edge of the map. It didn’t look much like a book. It looked more like a lot of loose, yellowing pages crammed inside a worn, brown leather cover.
“While you were sleeping,” she continued, “I was working on a translation.”
With first Jack and then Lee in the office with her, Tony doubted that was all she’d been doing. A glance past her at Lee showed the actor was looking a little ruffled. And wizards saw what was there, didn’t they? Hey, more power to him. Tony was all in favor of everybody getting some. A happy Demonlord was a…well, he was a happy Demonlord, that’s what he was, and a happy Demonlord was probably less likely to send over demons to slaughter his favorite handmaiden. More’s the pity.
“Are you grinding your teeth?”
“No.” He stepped over a pair of old steel-toed work boots painted in patterns that might look like urban camouflage on a thirteen-inch TV. In HDTV, not so much.
“Ryne Cyratane is using the energy up.”
That was enough to stop him. The ironed paper rustled. “What?”
“The Demonic Convergence produces a limited amount of energy. Usually, it’s spread out more and the world is dealing with small shit for months. One or two demons show up near the end.”
“Because the energy burns through the hells like acid rain,” Lee expanded. “As time passes, stronger drops burn right through the upper layers and end in deeper, nastier places.” From his tone, he’d been the one to come up with that bit of description.
Before or after the two of them tested the strength of CB’s coffee table? They wouldn’t have used the couch, or the floor, or the desk…it had to have been the coffee table. Why am I thinking about this? he asked himself as he started moving toward the soundstage again—which meant moving away from Leah and Lee. Giving them room. They, of course, followed. So much for symbolism.
And hang on…
Another look at Lee. “She told you?”
The actor nodded. “End of the worl
d as we know it.”
Was he blushing? The light in the hall was so bad Tony couldn’t tell. Not that it was any of his damned business. “So all this means the Demonic Convergence is going to end…when?”
“Sooner. We’re not talking months; a month maybe. Maybe not even that if he keeps up this pace. Which raises the question, why is he going to all this effort? If demons always show up at the end of the Convergence—which, according to this…” The book was waved for emphasis. “…they always do.”
“Always?” Tony interrupted.
“According to this book.”
“Didn’t you tell me they sometimes show up at the end of the Convergence?”
“That was before I had a first-person account to read. And they happen more often than I thought, too.” She smiled. It was a remarably sarcastic expression. “So now I’ve proved I’m not infallible, can we move on?”
He shrugged, careful not to crinkle the map.
“Ryne Cyratane is not big on…” Dark brows drew in. “Why are you carrying a map of the lower mainland and why you are carrying it like such a spaz?”
“It’s for a spell.”
“Oh. All right, then.”
He managed to hold back a bitchy Glad you approve long enough for Leah to continue talking.
“Ryne Cyratane,” she repeated, “is not big on personal effort. It would be more like him to wait and use whatever was going to get through at the end regardless. This is bigger than we thought. He’s really motivated.”
“Why?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Okay.” Good to know the time frame had been shortened—a half season of Convergence instead of the full twenty-two episodes—but from where Tony stood, that didn’t make a lot of difference. He flattened against the soundstage’s outer wall to give them room to get past. “Can one of you get the soundstage d…”
The soundstage door opened.
“…never mind.”
“Hello, pretty lady!” Framed in the doorway, Mason smiled unctuously down at Leah. “If you’re here to watch me tape, we’re done for the day, but I’d be happy to make the trip worth your while and sign a few photos. I have some in my dressing room…”
“She’s not a fan, Mason,” Tony interrupted before Leah took him up on it. Not the signed photos but the other nonverbalized offer. “She’s a stuntwoman here to talk to Peter about the last episode.”
“Ah.” Red-gold brows drew in as he visibly retreated back out of sexual harassment territory. Fans wanted his attention. Coworkers weren’t fans. “Am I throwing you off the windmill?”
“Very likely.”
Gray eyes gleamed. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy having you in my arms.”
Ryne Cyratane flickered as she smiled up at Mason. “You have no idea.”
“Leah! The stunt!”
“What st…oh. Right.” She reluctantly dialed it back and the Demonlord disappeared. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Reed.” Dimples flashed. “My mother loved you in StreetCred!”
Tony winced as Mason deflated. This was the first he’d ever seen Leah turn off a guy’s interest as fast as she turned it on. Nothing like a reminder you used to be a network cop and now you’re a syndicated vampire, he mused as Mason stepped into the hall and squeezed past his costar. With the soundstage open before him, he could move a little faster.
Too fast to catch just what Mason muttered to Lee that Lee denied so vehemently. Given the salacious tone to the muttering, and the source, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks.
“I hear stuntwomen are very athletic and flexible.” Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.
“I would never take advantage of a coworker, you cad!”
Great. His brain seemed to be lifting dialogue from Henry’s books.
“What’s the spell?” Leah demanded, catching up.
Tony listened to be sure Lee’s footsteps were following behind them. “I’m going to search for the power signatures of the weak spots. The spell should tell us not only where they are but how close they are to opening, so we’ll know which ones to close first. It’s possible…” Not very likely, he admitted silently to himself, but possible. “…that it’ll also map out where the next few weak spots are going to be.”
“Predictive magic? Wow. You worked that out yourself?”
“Thanks for sounding so surprised.”
“No.” Hand against her heart. “I’m impressed. You’re taking charge.”
Hey, he was a hero. “Yeah, I am.”
As they crossed to the chaise, Sorge left Jack’s side with a wave and instructions to have a good weekend.
“What were you two talking about?” Leah demanded as Tony carefully laid the map on the floor.
Jack snorted. “I have no idea.”
Somehow, staring down at the map lying flat made Tony intensely aware of how thin most people’s versions of reality were. Most people believed that this was all there was. He kind of missed believing that. Dropping to his knees, he bent carefully and began to breathe on the paper.
Leah broke off explaining demonic acid rain to Jack to ask him what he was doing.
“The instructions say that the map must know the wizard. This was the least gross option.” He finished up by panting at Richmond and stood. “Jack, could you…” His open laptop appeared at the edge of his peripheral vision. “Thanks. Now everyone step back. I need to circle the map three times.”
“Shouldn’t you be naked? What?” Leah protested as he turned. “So nothing would happen; I still like to look.”
Jack waved a hand. “Pass on the naked: public indecency. I’d be forced to use the cuffs.”
“Don’t worry about the naked,” Tony snorted. “I’ll just be reading some words out loud while I walk. Long, complicated words so, once I start, no interruptions.”
“You don’t go through this when you call things to you,” Lee reminded him. “You just reach for things and they’re there.”
He’d reached for Lee once.
“That’s a good point.” Jack nodded an acknowledgment at the actor. “What makes this different?”
“Do you play an instrument?” Tony asked him, grateful for the redirect.
“Yeah.”
“What?”
The RCMP Constable glanced over at Leah and Lee and dragged a hand back through his hair, fingering it up into pale spikes. “Accordion.”
Much mutual blinkage.
“Okay,” Tony said quickly before Leah found her voice. “You know how, when you were learning, you had to think about everything you were doing—right hand, left hand, bellows, melody, words, rhythm, and mostly, you had to wonder why you didn’t learn a cool instrument? And then, after a shitload of practice, a song clicks and you could just play without thinking about the bits? Come to Me is like that. It clicked. Other spells, I’m still figuring out as I go.”
Since that was as good a cue as any, he started his first circle. The words were not only long and complicated, but there were a shitload of them and he barely managed to get them all in. Third circle complete and the last few words crammed in tongue twister fast, he knelt by the edge of the map, breathed on his fingertips, and pressed them down on the edge of the ironed paper.
“What are you…?”
“Shhh.” Leah. Who’d worked with wizards before.
He concentrated. Nothing happened. He could feel the map waiting. Could feel the information he needed just beyond his fingertips. He concentrated harder, focusing power. He could do this. He had to do this. This is what I’m supposed to do. Wait. Not do. He didn’t do wizardry. He was a wizard. Something shifted and blue light spread out from his fingers pouring like water across the map. Then, suddenly a flare. And another.
And a burst of light.
Coughing and waving away streamers of smoke, Tony looked down at the light dusting of ash on the concrete floor. “I think I’m going to need another map.”
The four of them stared down at the pattern of little burns on the sec
ond map. Bad news, there were a lot of them. Maybe he was pissed about losing so many demons, but Ryne Cyratane was definitely motivated. Good news, most of the burns were very faint. Only three were significantly darker than the rest.
“What’s it mean?” Lee asked, arms folded.
“If it worked…” Tony rocked back off his knees, picked up the map and stood. “…it means there’s a lot of weak spots building at the same rate, and when they break through…”
“Wall-to-wall demons,” Jack finished grimly.
Leah shook her head. “That can’t be right. Henry’s book said the Convergence had a limited amount of energy.”
“Atomic bombs have a limited amount of energy,” Jack snorted. “You need to define limited.”
“We know for sure that Ryne Cyratane wants you dead and his gate open,” Tony reminded her over the upper edge of the map. “I’m guessing he’s working the convergent energy to create a lot of weak spots, so he can send through a whole bunch of demons at once, figuring at least one will get through me to you.”
“And these darker ones?” Lee tapped the back of the map where the darker burns showed through.
“Best guess: they’re distractions. I figure these guys won’t be after you, they’ll be free agents. If even one gets through, it’ll start rampaging through the lower mainland and keep me too busy to close the multiple weak points before they open.”
Arms folded, Leah sighed heavily. “That’s one complicated assumption there, Tony.”
“He’s smarter than he looks.” Jack gently pushed the top edge of the map down and stared at Tony. “Now, let’s fill in the blanks. Who is Ryne Cyratane?”
“He’s a Demonlord.”
“Tony!”
Whoa. If looks could kill. “Jack’s involved in this, Leah. He has a right to know.” Still holding the map, he jerked his chin toward the actor. “You told Lee, and he’s less involved.”
“Whose fault is that?” Lee muttered.
“You’re a civilian,” Jack snapped. “Tony had every right to try and keep you safe.”
