Opal dug through her messenger bag, sorting through various pieces of multicolored script pages, looking for the call sheet for the next day. All she dug up was a couple of crumpled call sheets from earlier in the shoot. “What are we shooting tomorrow?”
Neil went to the door, stooped, lifted an envelope lying on the floor. “George didn’t get them made up until after we finished our meeting. He was supposed to wake everybody up when he passed them out, make sure everyone knows what the plan is for tomorrow. Guess he figured I’d clue you in.” Neil slipped a finger under the envelope’s flap and pulled out a call sheet. “First we’ll shoot the girls on the soundstage, and then the seduction scene between the devil and Serena on location. What I really need to know is whether I’m going to be the director, or if everything will go to hell again.”
“I don’t know,” Opal said.
He glared at her with intense dislike. His eyes narrowed, and he said. “Very well, then. One more day like today, though, and—” He snarled and paced away from her, then glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hand, which he had crumpled in his fist. He straightened it, then handed Opal the sheet. “You’re supposed to prep Weather at ten A.M. We shoot at noon. George said you budget four hours for prep time, but it doesn’t take that long, does it?”
Opal stared down at the call sheet.
“Rod said you whiz through it,” said Neil.
“It’s true,” she said in a low voice. “It’s been going much faster than I expected. The possession helps speed it up.” Rod was ratting on her now? She’d have to find out what that was about.
“I don’t care how you do it. I don’t want you padding my budget and charging for extra hours you don’t need, understand?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Get some sleep and be ready for anything, all right? Did you put my star to bed yet?”
“No.”
“Is he here? I could take him back to the B&B.” Neil shuddered, then firmed his chin. “If you come with us.”
“I think we’ll stay here tonight,” she said.
“Where is he?”
“In Bethany’s room.”
Neil glanced toward the ceiling, shook himself, and headed for the door. “Get him to the location on time and in costume,” he said over his shoulder.
19
When she went upstairs, Opal found that Travis had come back from the restaurant, and he and Bethany were knee-deep in arguments, which continued even as Travis answered the door and let her in. Corvus sat on the couch, arms along the couch’s back, eyes closed, head back, apparently asleep. Death takes a holiday, she thought, appreciating the contrast between his large, black-robed presence and the standard beige furniture and vanilla floral prints and landscapes on the walls.
There was an energy in his presence that hinted he was awake on several levels.
Opal sat down beside him, touched his hand. His arm slid around her shoulders, though he didn’t open his eyes. “Who’s awake in there?” she whispered to him.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. The green glow showed in a subdued rim around his irises, so she guessed he was both Corvus and Phrixos. Maybe that was who he would be from now on. “Where’s your uncle?” he asked.
Travis and Bethany paused to look toward her, interested in her answer.
“Gone,” said Opal.
Corvus leaned closer, studying her face, his own concerned. “Why?”
“I wasn’t sure what to do with him,” she said.
His fingers tightened on her shoulder, then relaxed.
“Let’s go to bed,” said Opal. “We’ve got a ten o’clock call tomorrow.”
“Shooting what?” asked Bethany.
“Did you get a call sheet?” Opal said. She looked at the floor by the door and saw another envelope, production stationery. “I guess George dropped it off. But he didn’t knock and give it to you. Do you guys ever get called?” She tried to remember. During the shoot Opal had never seen the writers on the set except on their own time, and then, if Neil noticed them, he chased them off.
“Just on the phone,” said Travis, “or when he comes in here to scream at us. That’s one of the reasons we write in the restaurant. Even Neil doesn’t want to make a scene there. Fran really gets on his case when he alienates locals, especially in places where cast and crew need service. When Neil needs something, though, we better be ready to write it, print it, leap in the car, and drive it to wherever the hell he is, and he needs it yesterday.” He went over, picked up the envelope, opened it, and shook out the call sheet.
To save him time, Opal said, “We’re shooting the seduction of Serena tomorrow.”
“Which draft are we on with that?” Travis asked Bethany.
“I think it’s the marigold pages,” Bethany said, searching down through her stack of many-colored papers, some sheafs of them fastened together with brass brads.
Opal had left her messenger bag in her room. She couldn’t remember if she had any marigold pages. “Do you have an extra copy? I didn’t get the call sheet until about ten minutes ago because everything was so chaotic on the set today. Neil just stopped by my room—”
“Why?” said Bethany, her expression a mixture of fascination and distaste.
“To pick my brain, ask me if I could make whatever happened today not happen again.”
“He thinks you’re the agent of strange?” asked Bethany.
Opal smiled. “He did. I told him it was really the local god. He doesn’t believe in any of this, but he kind of believes in that.”
“Oh?” said Corvus.
She looked at him directly. “As long as you support the film instead of trying to sabotage it, he’s happy. When we go back to the forest location, are we all going crazy again?”
He smiled. “Wait and see.”
She held a fist up to his chin, tapped it. “Don’t tease me. I’ve had a long, weird day.”
“The answer is, I don’t know.”
Bethany pulled some pages out of her stack, leafed through them, brought them to Corvus and Opal. “This hasn’t changed a whole lot. This is the most recent version we’ve written, though with Neil, who knows, maybe he wants the pink pages or something. It’s my only copy, though, so don’t you dare lose it. I want it back when you’re done.”
Corvus took the pages and read through them. “Pretty close to what I’ve already memorized,” he said. “Let me just make sure.” He went back through the pages and reread them.
“Travis, we’re going on location tomorrow,” Bethany said.
“But the retool on the big finale?”
“I don’t think we should do any more work until Neil gets his head out of his ass and figures out where the film is going. Which probably depends on what happens on location tomorrow. Can we ride with you, Opal? Maybe he won’t notice us if we come in one of those black cars instead of that powder blue Nissan we got.”
“Corvus?” Opal said.
“Fine with me.”
“Okay.” Opal slipped from the claim of Corvus’s arm and rose. “Breakfast at 8:30, and we’re out of here by 9:30.” She took his hand and tugged him toward his feet. It helped when he got the message and cooperated with her. “See you tomorrow.”
“Night,” said Travis.
Downstairs, Corvus sat on the bed and Opal on a chair and she ran his lines with him. The energy she had given herself from her internal stash was wearing thin; she read the lines without paying attention. Corvus tried several different readings on some of his lines, but he noticed her sagging at last, took the pages out of her hands, lifted her onto the bed, and pulled off her shoes. She was asleep before he stripped and crawled in beside her.
The next morning, Opal didn’t recognize the waitress at the IHOP, a teenager with pink hair, black lipstick, and an eyebrow piercing, but the girl seemed to know them. She nodded to Bethany and Travis and put them all in the big corner booth. “Will you have enough room?” she asked.
“We’re actua
lly eating today and then leaving,” Bethany said with a smile. “We don’t need to spread out.”
“Oh, so you’re down to two pots of coffee instead of six?”
“Probably,” said Travis. “Thanks, Tera.”
“You guys have the menu memorized already, right? What would you like this lovely morning?”
They ordered, ate, paid, and left. Opal called Hitch at about 9:15. He had the car waiting out front by the time they got to the parking lot.
On the drive to the location, Opal glanced at Corvus. He looked back at her, his gaze quiet. Where do we go from here? she wondered.
The closer they got to the location, the stronger and wilder grew the buzzing under Opal’s skin. The ground was wide awake today. She put up her shield as Hitch drove, thickened it as more and more energy radiated against it. She wasn’t ready to collapse into Other Opal this time.
By the time they parked, Corvus’s face had already changed partway. Leaf outlines lay just under his skin.
“How’d you do that?” asked Bethany as they climbed out of the car.
He gazed at her. She swallowed, backed up, and grabbed Travis’s arm. Corvus raised the hood of his robe to cover his head.
“Do you sense anything different about this place?” Opal asked Bethany. On this project, Bethany had been the first one influenced by the god under the ground. Was she still being affected by it? To Opal, the trees shimmered with energy, and there was a glow surrounding the altar stone she wasn’t seeing with her eyes.
“I’m totally spooked by Corvus,” Bethany said, “so yeah, I’m feeling kind of fucked up.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ve got this crawly feeling under my skin,” said Travis. “More static than anything else. I feel jumpy.”
“Want to leave?”
“No way,” said Bethany, as Travis said, “Are you kidding? We’ve got to see what happens next.” He grabbed Bethany’s hand and pulled her toward the altar.
Opal shrugged and headed to the Makeup trailer, trailing Corvus.
Kelsi intercepted them, gripped a fingerful of Corvus’s robe. “So that’s where that got to,” she said. She frowned. “Did you clean it?”
“I did,” said Opal.
Kelsi narrowed her eyes, leaned closer, peered at the material, sniffed it. “Looks like you didn’t destroy it, so okay. Next time, ask before you take something off the set.”
“We didn’t have anything to change into yesterday.”
“Sure,” said Kelsi, “that’s what everybody says. And yeah, I was there, so I guess I know it’s true, though I’m kind of fuzzy on what happened. You should see what the kids did with their clothes, damn it. Yesterday was a nightmare with those kids’ clothes! First the blood, and then the dirt! There wasn’t one intact dress for either of them, so Betty and I were up all night making new ones . . . Glad you took good care of this robe. The other two we have are still spattered with that damn peppermint blood. It’s supposed to be washable, but I soaked them all night, and they’re still not right.” She released Corvus’s robe and headed for the Wardrobe trailer.
Inside the Makeup trailer, Lauren was sitting in one of the normal-sized chairs, with Magenta working on her. Rod lounged in another chair, flipping through a magazine. Blaise sat cross-legged in the chair next to Rod’s. She wore a gauzy purple and gold Indian-print hippie dress her character wouldn’t have worn, and she gripped her bare feet with her hands. She gazed at Opal and Corvus as they passed the other chairs to get to Corvus’s custom chair.
“Blaise?” Opal paused next to the actress. “You’re not on the call sheet.”
“Right, I’m not working today, but I decided to come watch. Neil was interesting and mysterious and way too secretive when he got back last night.”
“We heard we missed the party of the year yesterday,” Lauren said.
“Don’t talk.” Magenta was outlining Lauren’s lips.
“Sorry,” Lauren said, without meaning it. “Would someone please fill us in? Blaise said Neil wouldn’t tell her much. Everybody in town seems to know something except us; my hostess at the B&B was all, ‘You wouldn’t believe what happened at the altar yesterday,’ and then she wouldn’t give me any details.”
“The townies know?” Rod said. “Oh, God. Can the media be far behind?”
“Neil was trying to keep it under wraps,” said Magenta. “I wonder how they found out.”
Rod said, “Everybody and his sister was out here working yesterday. It’s hard to keep every mouth shut. I didn’t think the crew knew the townsfolk, though, since we’re all staying by the highway.”
“Some of the hotel staff live in Lapis,” said Blaise. “One of the grips is sleeping with the desk clerk, and the desk clerk’s parents are second-generation Lapislanders. That could be one avenue of information.”
“How do you know these things?” Lauren asked.
“Please,” said Magenta. “Keep still.”
“It pays to be informed,” Blaise said. “Stop being evasive and tell us what happened. Opal?”
“Drugs in the water, or mysterious spores, that’s what I’ve heard,” said Opal.
Blaise glared at her. “Right, those are the fake stories Neil’s telling. Cough up a few actual details, witch.”
Opal grinned. “Calling me names, great way to get me to talk to you. I’ve got something else on my mind.” She turned to Rod and lost any impulse to smile. “Why’d you tell Neil it doesn’t take me long to put Corvus in his makeup?” Corvus moved past her and settled into his chair, his head still hidden in his hood.
Rod glanced at her, then back down at his magazine. Without looking at her, he said, “All these years, Opal, working side by side, I thought we were friends.”
“I did, too.”
“But I don’t even know you,” he said to his magazine. “Blaise is right, you’re a witch. You never told me.”
“I never tell anybody. That’s your excuse to snark about me behind my back?” She leaned forward, tilted Rod’s chin up so he was looking at her.
“A small, petty revenge, but mine own,” he said.
“You were friends with the person I used to be,” she said. “Due to circumstances beyond my control, I don’t think I’m that person anymore. You might think about whether you want to be friends with who I am now. I imagine I’m a better friend than an enemy.”
“Do you really care about your hours, Opal?” asked Rod, staring unflinchingly into her eyes. “Does any of that matter to you, given what you can do? The minute I said that to Neil, I regretted it, but I couldn’t take it back. Now that you’re acting like Threaten-Me Barbie, I’m not sure what I want. Would you quit being such a badass?”
“Um,” she said. She released his chin and straightened, felt the starch drain from her shoulders. “Okay. Sorry about that. I’m pretty confused.”
“And scary,” muttered Magenta.
Opal glanced at Magenta before she headed for Corvus and her tools. Magenta was focused on her work and didn’t meet Opal’s gaze. Another thing to worry about?
Not right now.
Opal opened her locked cupboard and pulled out Corvus’s head mold, with its mask of leaves. It looked alive, the blank eyes forbidding. She knelt and searched the cupboard for the leaf skin she had taken off him yesterday, but there was no sign of it. Well, that was going to be trouble—today’s scene had chest nudity in it, and the leaf skin had made that simple. She might need more time after all.
“You guys, sorry to interrupt a personality conflict, but nobody’s answering my questions. We’re not the public,” Lauren said. “And we’re not just asking for fun. We need to know what happened yesterday, and if we’re expecting more of the same today. I didn’t volunteer for total insanity.”
“Stop talking!” Magenta said. “You made me smear!”
“Opal, please. Please tell me something,” Lauren said, even though Magenta looked mad enough to spit fire.
“Yesterday we were all pos
sessed by a spirit of sex, and some of it got on tape,” Opal said. “We fucked like rabbits. No one was in their right mind except Magenta, who was protected. Something’s going to happen today, but I’m not sure it’ll be the same. That’s what I know. Okay?”
“Um,” said Lauren. “No.”
“If you would let me do my job,” Magenta said, “maybe we could film everything and get out of here before another sexquake happens. Will you please shut up now?”
Lauren subsided.
“Why were you protected?” Blaise asked Magenta.
“Opal fixed me up way before it happened.”
“Like with a charm or something?”
“I don’t know. Don’t say it,” she said to Lauren. She finished filling in the lip color, having repaired earlier mishaps, and Lauren sat still for it.
“Opal,” said Blaise.
“Give me a break. I have work to do.” She tapped the mask, whispered, “Shed, skin.” It split neatly down the center of the face. It was warm in her hands as she fitted it over Corvus’s head. It molded to his skin immediately, and a gilded flush ran over it. Buried leaves rose from the skin of his neck, raced down under his robe. She undid the brooch at the throat and bared his chest, which was now as leafy as his head. “Good,” she said, and got out yesterday’s Polaroids for comparison. He looked exactly the same, down to the green glow in his eyes.
She put the Polaroids in a drawer and came back to take more pictures and another look at him, just to make sure everything worked together.
He pulled her into his lap and kissed her.
At first she resisted. This was where she worked, not where she kissed. She was working with materials she didn’t understand and wasn’t sure she could fix if they got messed up.
But her work was done, by someone other than herself, and even though she didn’t like or trust Phrixos, his kiss felt wonderful, promising that she could relax into the self who didn’t have to be in charge. He tasted of forest and sleep and comfort. Her Flintfire kept her from sinking into him completely, but she let herself respond to the promises as though she believed them.
Fall of Light Page 26
