Someone tapped her shoulder. She opened her eyes, broke contact with Phrixos’s mouth, and looked up. Magenta stood above her, frowning.
Opal pushed away from Phrixos. He let her go, his fingers lingering and sliding along her hips as she pulled away.
“It pisses me off to no end that he doesn’t smear,” Magenta said. “Anyway, it’s time to get to the set.”
“But I thought—” How long had the kiss lasted? Lauren and Blaise were no longer in the trailer. Opal checked her watch. All the time budgeted for applying makeup had melted away. Weird that a kiss could relax her instead of exciting her, and weird that whatever it was had happened in spite of her shield. Things had changed while she’d been lost; a kind of nervous energy flooded her now, something ambient that almost sounded like a song. “Come on, big guy.” She tugged Phrixos to his feet.
Everything felt electrified. Phrixos’s hand in hers was hot and buzzing, as though she touched bees. “What is it?” Opal asked. The mirrors on the trailer walls reflected back scenes brighter than the one they were standing in.
Magenta looked around, too. Rod glanced up from his magazine. “Here we go again,” he said. “I think I’ll lock myself in the restroom this time. I didn’t like who I ended up with last time.”
“Is that what’s happening?” Magenta asked.
“Don’t you feel it?” asked Rod. “That urge to merge—but maybe different from yesterday. I don’t—I’m not sure what I want, but—”
Magenta cocked her head. “There’s some kind of weird sound, like one of the generators is running too fast or something, but I don’t feel anything.”
“You are shielded,” Phrixos said. “Do you want to open to this?”
“Nope, no thanks,” said Magenta. “Rather sit it out, like I did yesterday.”
“As you like.” Phrixos tugged Opal with him toward the door to the trailer. She grabbed her messenger bag on the way. Rod headed toward one of the trailer’s restrooms. Magenta took her duffel and followed Opal and Phrixos out, locked the door as she left the trailer.
Everyone they passed on their way to the altar looked alert and itchy, most glancing this way and that in search of something nobody seemed to find. Suspicious glances followed Phrixos.
“This is where I get off,” Opal said as they came abreast of the cast corral. Phrixos’s grip on her hand tightened, then released.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said. “I need you.”
“Sure,” she said, uncomfortable. Did he really need her, or did he just want to own and control her? “Something’s going to happen today.”
“If everything works out,” he said.
“It’s not going to be the same as yesterday, is it?” she asked.
“No,” he whispered, and walked on, toward where Lauren, in her character’s dumpy-phase clothes, stood. Lauren looked lost and sad. Corvus’s stand-in, Fred, walked into the circle of light and stood facing her. They murmured to each other. Everyone glanced around uneasily.
Blaise stood in the trees, out of sight of where the cameras aimed at the moment, a pale forest dryad spying on invaders.
Magenta set her duffel on the ground and sat in Lauren’s chair, her hands gripping each other in her lap.
Opal settled in Corvus’s chair and closed her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked Other Opal.
Other Opal took shape in the air beside her, glanced around. “Interesting,” she said. “Gearing up.”
“For what?”
“Can’t tell, but it feels like everything around us is awake.” Other Opal looked toward the ground. “We’re standing on another kind of person. He lies there and smiles at us. He’s glad we’re here. He wants us.”
Opal stroked her shield. Part of it had opened for Phrixos’s kiss, but now it gloved her. She could resist what was about to happen. As long as that door Phrixos had made in the shield stayed shut. Damn.
“You gonna keep that shield up the rest of your life?” asked Other Opal.
“Maybe,” said Opal. She had lowered it during the kiss, though, and whatever Phrixos had done to her still resonated inside. She sighed and opened her eyes to the outside world.
Neil yelled by the altar. “Am I surrounded by dolts and donkeys? Would you all stop shaking the equipment? News flash: we’re not sitting on a volcano!”
Opal went to the Props department to get a camera-eye view.
“Blocking rehearsal’s over,” Joe said. “Looked good. Neil’s like a cat on a hot griddle today.”
“Who isn’t?” asked Opal.
“Good point.” They watched Lauren and Phrixos. The scene took place after Caitlyn had practically kidnapped Serena and forced her back to the forest, where Serena had sworn she would never go again. Caitlyn told Serena she had to help Caitlyn figure out how their mother had died. At this point, the flashback of the mother’s death would show, as Serena regained her lost memory. And then the Dark God would talk her into accepting his proposal. There was a lot of verbal persuasion involved; it was one of Corvus’s best scenes in the movie, all talking instead of anything that smacked of scare tactics. Opal had drowsed through the scene the night before, even as she mouthed Serena’s lines, but this time she leaned in close as Phrixos and Lauren spoke the lines. Joe’s TV didn’t pick up sound, but as Opal watched the actors’ lips, she remembered.
DARK GOD
All your life you have denied your power and hidden from yourself. It is time for you to become who you really are.
SERENA
Wouldn’t my sister be better? She’s already given heart and soul to you.
DARK GOD
You are the one with the gifts I want. Accept your destiny. How long will you hide in the shadows? Show the world your true self. Open to your power.
“Last looks,” the A.D. called.
Opal and Magenta went to check their respective charges. Phrixos’s leaves had darkened, turned more realistic. Opal wasn’t sure how to reverse that. “Can you step it down a notch? This is bad for continuity,” she said to him.
“I can’t,” he said. “It’s not in my control. It never really has been.” The green in his eyes was only half-lit, and he spoke to her in Corvus’s voice. She stepped back and stared up at him. The nervous energy in the air vibrated against her shield.
“I can’t wait until you get all trampy and rampagy,” Magenta was saying to Lauren. “That’s going to be the fun makeup.”
“Looking forward to it.” Lauren’s voice sounded tight.
From just behind Opal’s shoulder, Neil said, “What’s the problem here?” He touched a leaf on Corvus’s cheek and grunted. “The color palette changed, eh? Why’s that?”
“Um,” said Opal, “it wanted to, I guess. I don’t know how to change it back, unless I cover it with something lighter, which would take a while.”
“Oh fuck oh dear.” He stepped back. “Well, maybe we can fix it in post. Prognostications for today?”
Opal shook her head.
“Damn and thunderation. All this itchy energy, too. Please. Just let us shoot the scene as written at least once, all right?”
Opal wasn’t sure who he was talking to. She knew she couldn’t say yes to that; like Corvus’s makeup, the whole situation was beyond her control.
“Maybe if we do it quickly,” Corvus said.
“I despise quickly,” said Neil, “no matter how many people tell me it’s important. Today, though—let’s do this thing right now.”
“Clear the set,” George yelled.
Opal and Magenta hid behind the backdrop. Someone yelled for quiet on the set. The bell rang, sound rolled, the camera assistant called scene and take number, the slate was bumped, Neil yelled, “Action,” and the lines ran.
How long will you hide in the shadows?
20
Corvus spoke with a clarity that brought the lines to her even this far from the set. Was she hiding in the shadows still? No, people were looking at her in the light, more than she was comfortabl
e with. She wanted to fade into the background again.
Which was hard when everyone was aware of her now. She glanced at Magenta, Blaise, random other not-working-at-the-moment crew. Everyone was silent while the scene played out, but none of them were reading, puzzle solving, distracting themselves today. They all stood listening, and many of their gazes rested on her.
Were they remembering her as half of the center of yesterday’s tossed human salad? Or was everyone remembering she was a witch equivalent?
Oh, come on, thought Dark Opal, it’s not always about you.
It’s almost never about me, thought Opal. That’s the way I like it.
Keep telling yourself that. I’ll hang onto the other thoughts for us.
Are you saying I want to be the center of attention?
Every little once in a while, thought Dark Opal.
Opal straightened, pushed her shoulders back, and took a deep breath. Okay. Yesterday was enough of that for now. Agreed?
Dark Opal laughed. You got it, sister.
Maybe everyone was tense because of the ubiquitous hair-raising, nerve-tingling energy, its pitch rising, that tightened the air until it was hard to breathe.
Barefoot, an almost unrecognizable Erika came to stand beside Opal. This Erika’s hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore not a single camera around her neck. She had on some kind of springy, flower-laden dress and wore an unfamiliar nongloating smile.
Brainwashed, Opal decided. “You okay?” she whispered.
“I’m so happy,” Erika murmured. “I’ve found my true happiness.”
“Cut. Print,” called Neil and two bells rang.
“Weren’t you happy before?” Opal asked Erika. “Taking pictures and torturing people?”
A shadow of Erika’s triumph smile flashed across her face. “Yes,” she said. Then she looked confused. “This is different.”
Handmaiden, thought Dark Opal. She’s a total handmaiden. Don’t go there. I’m sick of being a handmaiden.
I’m with you there.
The cast and the director came off the set. Phrixos took his own chair. Lauren retreated to the cast trailer.
Neil grabbed a cold frappuccino from the Craft Services cooler and came over to Opal. He said, his gaze directed between Opal and Phrixos, “The master shot is in the can. Three takes, at least one of which is good enough, if we revert and follow the original script, and ignore everything that happened yesterday, which, at this point, I’m inclining toward.”
She wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, or how to respond. She tried a smile.
He scowled and strolled off to where Blaise was lurking, then wandered back to watch people position equipment. Lauren returned from the trailer and sat in her chair.
The undertone of frenzy intensified.
“What is it?” Opal asked Phrixos. “What’s going to happen?”
“It takes the right trigger,” Phrixos said.
“And then what?”
“I’ll ask you a question. I’ll ask everyone a question.”
“What’s the question?” Magenta said from beside Lauren’s chair. Lauren looked anxious and sweaty. She was drinking orange juice.
“You have to wait for it.”
“Waiting is driving us all crazy,” said Lauren.
“Only a little longer, and all the steps will be complete,” said Phrixos. He closed his eyes and leaned back, cutting off the conversation.
The next shot was of the Dark God, speaking seductively to Serena, or, more realistically, directly into the camera. Lauren wasn’t in the shot, but she stood nearby to speak her lines off camera. Opal hovered behind one of the cameras filming the shot.
The energy erupted while the Dark God spoke.
DARK GOD
Will you spend the rest of your life hiding from your true nature? Now is the time to surrender all the things that keep you locked up inside yourself. Come to me. Worship me. Give me strength, and I will set loose the power you already have.
His voice, Corvus’s best voice, reasonable, enticing, seductive, was everywhere. Opal heard it in her ear, felt it sliding through the clearing and even into the trees. Her heart raced. Heat flooded her face. She yearned toward him, almost stepped past the camera, then recalled herself, glanced at the cameraman and the focus puller, and saw that they were leaning forward, too.
DARK GOD
All you have to do is say yes. Will you say yes to me?
He held out his hands, palms up. His voice was irresistible. The green rose from the ground, coruscating around his hands and face. He smiled, turned to look straight at Opal, then swept the crew with his gaze.
“Yes,” said Lauren, her line, but “yes,” cried everyone else, everyone, boom mike operator, electricians, grips, director, cameramen, set dressers, wardrobe, props, supervisors, writers, everyone.
Opal opened her mouth, a “yes” shaping her lips. Dark Opal invaded her muscles and changed her response to “No!” spoken in a whisper. No! You don’t need him to make you whole. You have me! You have all of us. Frozen baby, marble child, your internal forest, all those rooms you haven’t looked in, all the yous you’ve locked up, and even Flintfire that’s you and not you. I can help you out of the shadows.
Can you help me let go of everything holding me back and locking me up?
Oh, yes, thought Dark Opal. You know I can.
After the chorus of “Yes!” swept the clearing, the Dark God laughed and held out his hands. Green rushed from him, enveloped each one of them and sank under their skin. It tried to enter Opal. She could feel its promises and whispers: warmth, love, safety, the death of worry, the comfort of being cared for. She held out a hand, but it shone faintly orange—shielded—against the invading green.
“You are mine now,” said Phrixos. He turned and stared at each of them in turn. Not in the script. “I thank you and welcome you. We will do great things together.”
He smiled, a benediction. Even shielded, Opal felt its glow.
“Is that it?” said Magenta, and everyone turned on her.
“Cut,” cried Neil. “Damn you! How dare you interrupt my take?”
Everyone did their jobs; stopped taping, finished the shot. Second bell rang shrilly through the clearing.
Everyone again turned on Magenta.
“What? It’s a special effect? Everybody gets a green dot? What?” she asked.
“A green dot?” Neil said. People glanced at each other and saw that she was right, everyone else had a small, glowing green dot just above their noses.
Nice redirect, thought Dark Opal.
Opal touched her forehead, glanced at Magenta, caught her attention, and lowered her finger. Magenta’s eyes widened.
Corvus stepped out from under the lights, touched his own forehead, and frowned. Opal walked to him, stared up into his leafy face. There was green among the leaves; she couldn’t tell whether he had a dot. His eyes were his own color, no trace of Phrixos in them. “What just happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Um,” said Magenta. She pointed past them, and they turned.
A giant green figure faded into view on the altar, spinning out of air, sunlight, and diffused klieg lights. People gasped.
“Cameras,” Neil yelled, and dazed camera people started film rolling.
The green mist took vaguely humaniform shape as a seated person. It pushed stumpy arms toward the sky, opened a hole the shape of an orange slice in the lump that was its head, and sighed with pleasure. “So long,” it said, its voice warm and musical, “since I’ve had the strength to manifest. Thank you, my new children.”
“What are you talking about?” Magenta asked, striding toward it.
“My poor orphan,” said the creature. Something Opal could barely see was rising from all the people in the clearing, including those who had come from behind the backdrop and out of the trailers while Phrixos was talking. A faint mist lifted from each of them and flowed toward the green thing. Th
e form got solider and better defined. It looked cheerful, benevolent, and enormous; it stopped being lumpy and turned nearer to human, as muscular, sculpted, and sexless as an Oscar. It smiled at all of them and rose to its full height, perhaps nine feet tall.
“Do you want to join the rest of your people, or are you determined to be alone?” It leaned toward Magenta, its face blank but somehow attentive.
“Join my people in what?” She thrust her jaw out. “Did you turn them all into your handmaidens? What kind of verbal contract did they just agree to, huh?”
“Nothing that will kill them,” it said gently.
“That covers a lot of ground, some of it pretty bumpy. I say no thanks.”
The god brushed Magenta’s cheek with a fingertip—she flinched from his touch, and he smiled gently—and walked past her to Opal. He towered above her. He bent, his face kind, his eyes irisless almonds.
“You,” he said. “My most ardent supporter.”
“Me,” Opal said.
“We have made homes in each other. Why do you cast me out now?”
A whir of replies whizzed through her head—I don’t like your use of force/I’m not sure who you are or what you want/I don’t trust you, and for good reason/You hurt me, and you hurt my friends. Ultimately, she said, “I got a better offer.”
He looked sad. “I want you back.”
She studied everyone else. They stood quiet, almost like the trance state they had been in yesterday, waiting. Opal shook her head. “No.”
He gazed at her, his attention concentrated, a force that almost made her take a step back. Then he rose. “I will never stop wanting you. For now, I don’t need you. I’ll ask you again later.” He straightened to his full height. “Now,” he said to all of them, “where shall we start?”
Everyone woke. “We start with making this a damn good film,” roared Neil, “and that’s going to take the lot of you working like demons, hear me?”
“We hear you,” said someone, and the rest of them laughed.
“So what else is new?” muttered Magenta. She grabbed Opal’s hand and stomped back to the Makeup trailer while the crew, supervised by the tall green man, set up for the next shot, which would be Lauren saying her lines on camera, with Corvus interpolating his lines out of sight. The god helped the electricians and grips move equipment. No one said anything about him being nonunion.
Fall of Light Page 27
