Midnight Reign

by Chris Marie Green

  Wait. Good God, she’d never even looked beyond her own shock.

  She calmed herself, thinking rationally for once. What if Jac/Eva could lead her to the Underground? Shouldn’t she be wondering about that?

  “Go. To. The. Party,” Kiko was saying. “There’s nothing pressing happening tonight anyway. Breisi wanted to go over what we know about Jessica Reese again, then she’ll probably hermit up in her lab.”

  She saw a flash of something off-kilter in his gaze, but he looked away before she could call him on it.

  “Why don’t you and Breez come with me?”

  “Because Jacqueline Ashley isn’t…Dawn, you can’t go around thinking everything, including Jac, is going to attack you. Believe me, you gotta get out of that phase. When I saw my first monster, I went through it, too, but you need to chill before you do even more damage.”

  She knew he was talking about the homeless woman. How many times had she told herself the same thing?

  How damned many?

  He got out of his chair. “Clear it with the boss if you decide to go. And”—he turned away—“I hope you do. I hope Jac helps you get out of this funk.”

  He left the room in a rush, never looking back.

  But Dawn barely noticed because she was already thinking of ways to get the truth out of her starlet “pal.”

  Even if no one else believed in her suspicions.

  JAC had gotten a new Prius and, while she drove up the Pacific Coast Highway to Paul Aspen’s home in Malibu, she chattered away about her new ride.

  “I decided on cherry red because I’m still such a sorority girl at heart, but the flip color doesn’t scream ‘tree-hugger hybrid driver.’ That’s what my PR guy said—buying this car, no matter what color it is, shows I’m concerned about the environment, even though I’m not giving interviews about it.” Jac grinned. “Isn’t all of that so major? All I wanted to do was save some gas.”

  Jac’s window was only slightly gaped, ensuring that her hair didn’t get messy, even though faint huffs of the summer-night breeze still played with her long blond waves. Tonight, she wasn’t wearing her usual sunglasses and, at first, Dawn had flinched when looking into Jac’s brown irises. The last time that had happened, Dawn had seen Eva with all the clarity of a knife shearing into her stomach. This time…not so much.

  Maybe the shock had worn off?

  As Dawn tried to return Jac’s grin, she noticed that the starlet really did look like she’d been in a boot camp for the last month; it wasn’t that she’d lost weight—no, she looked like the usual slender Jac in her white silk tank and a pair of tight black pants. It was just that her skin was duller than the usual pearly complexion. Or maybe it was just Dawn’s vampire-steeped imagination taking over.

  Jac noticed the visual inventory, so Dawn casually said, “Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”

  “I know, I know,” Jac said. “Nerves—total nerves! But that’s all going to change. I’ve been assigned a nutritionist. Can you believe that? Someone’s going to tell me how to eat, like I don’t have a clue.”

  “There’ll be a lot of someones telling you how to do everything from now on.”

  Jac nodded, respecting Dawn’s own moviemaking expertise. Sure, she’d “just” been a stuntwoman, but she knew the ropes.

  The ride went quiet, a little tense. As they drove along the surflined highway, the radio DJ talked gossip: Justin Timberlake in Vegas, Paris Hilton’s most recently discovered sex video, Darrin Ryder’s recovery from last month’s mugging and his big night back on the town—

  Jac snicked off the radio, not that Dawn cared. She wasn’t a big Ryder fan; his harassment on a movie set was just one of many reasons she’d found herself on the outs in her stunt career.

  Minding her seat belt, Dawn pulled her jacket tighter around her. After The Voice had given her permission to “take care of some personal business” for a few hours, she’d armed up and driven to Jac’s. Chances were there’d be a security check at the door—unless Jac had enough clout as the production’s ingénue to get them out of it—so Dawn had adjusted her weapons accordingly.

  Item one: if Jac were Eva, she might be like Robby Pennybaker, who’d been basically unaffected by holy objects; this meant Dawn had forgone most of those items except for a few just-in-case standbys, like a bit of holy water and the crucifix she always wore. Item two: Dawn might never get inside the party with a gun or blades, so she’d brought less obvious weapons. Silver, which had poisoned Robby, was her greatest ally right now so, among other things, she’d worn a necklace, bracelet, and earrings that were sharp enough to pierce a vamp’s skin if they got too close. Breisi had constructed the jeweled set a while ago, so Dawn had borrowed them. She’d also grabbed a lighter and a mini aerosol hairspray—a makeshift flamethrower in case fire could stop an attacking vamp.

  So here she was—a real live vamp hunter. She hadn’t even rubbed down with garlic, deciding not to offend everyone at the party tonight. Instead, she’d been sneakier, bringing along a small perfume dispenser full of garlic essence that she could mist onto her skin. It would work for lower-level vamp repulsion if she needed it. Subtle yet armed.

  Jac pulled onto Malibu Colony Drive, where they came to guarded gates. After Jac’s ID quickly ushered them through, she continued to Paul Aspen’s mansion, which also boasted security at the entrance. As they pulled into the drive, tropical vegetation loomed above them, lush and still.

  While the guards checked the car ahead, red taillights glowed through the windshield. Dawn turned to Jac, and the girl smiled brightly, washed over by the sanguine shade.

  A bolt of anguish at seeing her mother covered in red again ripped through Dawn. Her stomach went sour. Still, it was time to start working. Time to solve what the hell was going on.

  “Know something funny?” Dawn asked.

  “I can always use some comedy.”

  Here it goes, she thought, primed to pay careful attention to every detail of Jac’s reactions.

  She let out a tiny, uncomfortable laugh, Acting! like her comment was about to embarrass her. “Last time I saw you in person, back at the hospital…”

  Dawn trailed off purposely.

  Jac merely tilted her head in a casual listening pose.

  “I…” Dawn laughed again. “Well, seeing you all made over…For a weird second, I actually thought you were my mom, like you’d come back to life. Isn’t that messed up?”

  Dawn waited for the clues to surface: a gleam of understanding in Jac’s gaze, a flinch, a tell.

  But there was nothing. Just Jac reaching out to Dawn and patting her knee.

  Dawn’s instincts told her to push away, but it was a nice touch, lending her some ease. Inexplicably, she put her own hand over Jac’s, but as soon as she realized it, she retreated.

  Jac didn’t seem to mind. “I know how that made you feel, and I understand why you needed to take some time before seeing me again. I’m still so sorry about the surprise.”

  “I’m over it.”

  Jac squeezed Dawn’s knee. “Now that we’ve gotten the awkwardness out of the way, I’m actually flattered that you’d say I’m like her. Gosh, to even be in the same realm as Eva Claremont is just…”

  It was like stars were shining in the girl’s eyes. Stars with pointed edges that jabbed and tore.

  If she were Eva, she was a hell of an actress. Or was Jac truly just another innocent bystander, one who was in direct firing range of Dawn’s agenda?

  You can’t go around thinking everything is going to attack you, Kiko had said.

  Once again, she thought of the throwing star speeding toward the homeless woman, the snick of it hitting her arm, the blood on the stuffed animal.

  “Hey,” Jac said, leaning closer. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is it still me?”

  The car ahead of them drove away, and the security officer waved Jac forward. Dawn was saved from answering as the starlet pulled up.

  And when Jac rolled down her
window, allowing the scent of jasmine to permeate the car, Dawn relaxed. She wasn’t alone.

  It didn’t take long for them to clear the checkpoint. Paul Aspen’s people had probably prepared an extensive list of who to let through easily. Yeah, Dawn got the evil eye, but the fact that the beefcakes let her through without more of a scene spoke a lot about Jac’s status on the set.

  And she went right on thinking that way, too, at least until after the valet parked their car. It was only when she and Jac got to the exquisite teak doors that she started to feel like an outcast among the beautiful people again.

  Bodyguards took one look at Dawn and stopped her. Oh well, that’s what she got for wearing the regular I-don’t-give-a-shit gear. She was Jac’s entourage, but she wasn’t a star herself, so that meant she couldn’t get away with the grunge.

  As they patted her down, she casually checked out the exotic, chicly overgrown foliage, the torches burning fake fire from wall sconces. The house was a quasi-Mayan temple. How sacrificial nouveau.

  When it was over, Jac seemed to think it was a good idea to make her friend forget all about the second-class treatment. Linking her arm through Dawn’s, she guided them both into the house, clearly excited at her big movie-star party. Sad. Maybe this was the first time anyone in the cast had invited her.

  “I wonder how many hearts you’ll break tonight,” Jac said as they walked through the foyer. The blaring recorded music—something so hip the band probably didn’t even have a name—was making Jac talk loudly.

  Dawn stiffened as they approached the main area. “I don’t break hearts, I eat them.” She was kidding. Pretty much.

  Her rigidity had made Jac back off. But then, pulling an impressed face, the undaunted actress reached out and gave her friend’s biceps a feel.

  “Look at that. I wish I had these guns! You make everyone here look lazy!”

  Even though she was oddly pleased by Jac’s comment, Dawn pretended she wasn’t. It appealed to the part of her that believed she wasn’t inferior to these people, and Lord help her, she liked knowing that someone else thought the same way.

  They drew nearer to the action, and Dawn tried to remain placid, keeping her rebellious facade intact, presenting the girl who’d spurned all the other Hollywood kids while growing up. It’d been one of many ways to distance herself from Eva, and it’d worked.

  As the main room opened up in front of them, she saw that the mansion’s interior was created to seem brittle and broken, the walls fashionably crumbling, the décor utilizing everything from long-stemmed candleholders shooting up from the floor to a polar bear rug in front of an empty grand fireplace.

  But the partygoers provided a modern touch. Near a flat-screen TV, a crowd of young hipsters from Aliantrance, a fantasy that had scooped the number one spot at the box office for the past three weeks, yelled while maiming each other by proxy with their gory PlayStation street fighting. Scattered throughout the rest of the room, less enthusiastic men and women in silks and chunky jewelry swayed to the techno-flavored music, drinks in hand, cigarettes burning from extended fingers. They were standing against walls, draped over couches, mingling with each other and probably working deals with every breath.

  Well behaved, Dawn thought. The party must’ve just started.

  As a tabloid socialite strolled by, her boutique perfume made Dawn want to choke. And it made her realize something else: the jasmine had disappeared, replaced by acrid smoke, the expensively bad perfume, and emerging perspiration.

  “I can’t get used to this!” Jac said, sounding half-afraid and half-fascinated by her surroundings. “You’ll protect me from trouble though, won’t you, Dawn? My fencing buddy? My own personal bodyguard?”

  “Why not.” Dawn led Jac away from an oily guido approaching due right and headed for a private corner. Even though she didn’t know what to think about her friend, she felt protective. Weird but true.

  On their way, they were intercepted by the man himself, Paul Aspen. Reportedly in his late thirties, he was the type who wasn’t actually a “man,” but more of a “guy.” A perpetual Hollywood Peter Pan, he’d shaved off his sandy hair for this buccaneer role, probably hoping to age himself, and had gotten his ears pierced, too. Tall and full of that star-making “X factor,” he was a producer’s wet dream.

  His hazel eyes seemed friendly enough as he offered Dawn and Jac two drinks. “I heard on a security scanner that my favorite costar had arrived, and I’m not talking about Will.”

  Dawn belatedly recalled that Jac’s other costar was Mr. Independence Day himself.

  “Who’s your friend, Jacqueline?” Paul added.

  Dawn wanted to be ornery and tell Paul Aspen straight out that she was about ten years too old for his tastes, but she shut up for Jac’s sake.

  Just about bursting with smiles, Jac made short work of the introductions, telling Paul about Dawn’s stunt work and how she wanted to get Dawn on staff.

  Was Jac just starstruck or was there some crushing going on here?

  Dawn shifted around, refusing Paul’s cocktail offer. Jac took him up on it though, inspecting the red liquid in the martini glass before testing it.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Paul sipped at the one Dawn had rejected. “Death by Sangria. Damned if I know what’s in it, but it’s supposed to be the same old classic with a twist.”

  “Mmm.” Jac laughed and stopped drinking. “Good. Dawn, you sure you don’t want one?”

  “I don’t drink, really.” Frank had sworn her off booze.

  “Well, I’ll be…” Ever the social sentinel, Paul was watching the foyer and raising a welcoming hand to a well-known producer who’d just sauntered in. “There’s Robert, so don’t mind me while I pay homage. I’ll see you girls later?”

  “Definitely,” Jac said.

  Paul leaned in close to both of them. “Here’s a tip. If anyone offers you a tour of the place, say no. We’ve already had one incident tonight with an anonymous supporting actress, a horny director who shall go unnamed, and a secret room behind the fireplace. Beware of these old houses, ladies.”

  He winked and rushed off, Jac’s gaze trailing him.

  Dawn got her attention. “Please don’t tell me you’re—”

  “No. Oh, heck, no. It’s just…I’m working with him, Dawn. I watched him on Co-Ed Nights when I was a teenager.” She lifted her glass, but then lowered it when she caught something from across the room. “Oops—nine o’clock. Someone’s checking you out.”

  Okay, it was beyond Dawn’s power to resist, especially when she was surrounded by all these reminders of how she’d had to compete with Eva day in and day out. Yup, the old resentment was back and flourishing, so if a man was looking at Dawn and not Jac from across a room, that was a small victory. Disgusting, but pitifully true.

  She glanced over and, what do you know. A typical pretty boy was indeed giving her the once over. But when he realized he had her attention, his gaze predictably shifted to the girl next to her.

  Eva was winning again, even if she wasn’t actually here….

  “Go get him,” Dawn said to Jac, fixing her attention elsewhere.

  “No, that boy likes you. I can tell.”

  “Forget it.”

  Dawn saw a chest full of iced bottled water near a couch, so she went over to it. As she grabbed one, she tuned in to a conversation between two industry types sitting nearby.

  The woman had a streak of white dust under her nose and was waxing on about how Hollywood would always be “in the know.” They weren’t irrelevant at all, she kept saying, gesturing madly. Fuck the red states. Fuck the conservative press.

  Dawn unscrewed her water and took a sip, hiding a laugh.

  Jac was laughing, too, casting Dawn a knowing glance as she guided her outside, where it was much quieter. Jungle plants hovered over a glowing blue pool. Two women were skinny-dipping, watched over by a group of appreciative men discretely smoking weed.

  “So how’s work going
?” Jac said, turning her back on the scene and taking the opportunity to make a can-you-believe-these-people face.

  “Work is work. PI stuff. Top secret. All that.”

  “It sounds exciting.”

  “Not so much.” Dawn took another drink. “Detecting involves lots of waiting around and running into barriers. And my boss…” She shook her head. “He’s…”

  Whoa. Time to shut up.

  “He’s what?” Jac seemed ecstatic that Dawn was actually communicating.

  Suddenly, Dawn wondered if she was actually a project for this girl. Some people were like that—they gravitated toward fixer-uppers. It drove them, just like fearful bitterness seemed to drive Dawn most of the time.

  “My boss is uncommunicative,” she settled on saying. It didn’t give anything up. “He kills me.”

  “Aw, just let go of it. Negative feelings suck. Life is so much easier without them.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah, all the bad medicine you take in?” Jac made a dismissive motion, graceful, balletic even. “Who needs it?”

  I do, thought Dawn.

  Jac touched her arm, spreading a ray of comfort through Dawn’s skin. Still, she couldn’t help shirking away.

  “Sorry,” Jac said.

  Dawn tried to make like she didn’t know what the other girl meant.

  “No, I am.” The starlet tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I look like her. I’m sorry I make you squirm.”

  What was there to say? Dawn took another quaff just to have something to do.

  “Can I ask?” Jac said. “What was she like, your mom?”

  Shit. “I don’t know. She died when I was about a month old. I was raised by my dad because she wasn’t around.”

  “You say that like she meant to abandon you.”

  Dawn gripped her bottle. “She didn’t. Abandon me, that is. She’s always managed to be with me.”

  Knowing she should be marking the other girl’s reactions, Dawn locked eyes with her, but Jac only seemed confused.

  “What do you mean?”

  Dawn drank again, waiting. Baiting.

  Finally, the actress’s gaze broke away. “It seems like you don’t like her much.”