Fall of Light (18 page)

“Can I ask you more about the Last of the Lost?” Opal said. “Did anybody ever know where he came from or why he was here?”

Myrna closed her eyes and thought. “Collected girls,” she muttered. “Nobody ever said what he did with them, but it was probably about sex, which we never talked about, or murder, which we did talk about, but only from what we saw in the movies. Nobody ever found bodies or bits of them. We said the missing girls were runaways in the police reports. Why was he here? Well, because he'd always been here, forever and ever. Before there was a town, he was here. He was here because of the people who were here before.” She opened her eyes, stared into Opal's eyes. “Isn't that odd? I don't think there
were
any people here before. Maybe Kalapuya Indians, but I don't think so.”

“Opal, I've got to get to my seven thirty makeup call. I'm going to head over now,” said Blaise.

Opal checked her watch. “Shoot. I better go, too. Mrs. Partridge, thanks so much for everything. Is there anybody else around who might be able to tell me more about this Last guy?”

“Old Bessie Gates at the Early Bird Bed-and-Breakfast, where you folks are filming. She's even older than I am, and she's lived here all her life. Haven't spoken to her in a long time, myself. Don't get along with her. But if anybody knows local history, she's the one.”

“Thanks. Should I wash this?” Opal held up her bowl.

“No, no, don't worry about it. You kids just go. A pleasure, Opal.”

“Likewise,” said Opal. She grabbed her messenger bag and followed Blaise out.

“So that was quite the fishing expedition,” Blaise said.

“You know there's something going on with Corvus,” said Opal. “This is all background.”

“You think the thing she was talking about is the thing that's taken him over and molded him into a better actor?”

“He could always act!” Opal said. “You are such a snot!”

Blaise laughed. “You're easy to tweak,” she said.

“Why would you want to?” asked Opal.

“I need to find out who you are,” said Blaise. “If we're arming for some kind of war, I like to know who I'm fighting with.”

“Okay, maybe you're right. Who are
you
?” Opal asked.

“It's not that easy,” said Blaise. “It's not my habit to get along with anyone, and I have my reasons for that.”

“You're sleeping with the director, and suddenly you have more lines.”

Blaise laughed again. “Sure. I want to shine in this picture. It has potential. People aren't expecting much, but some of the writing is sharp, and I must say, your work with Corvus, however it's happening, is quite astonishing. I wouldn't be surprised if you were nominated for an Oscar—or, I guess Dathan would get nominated for art direction, and take all the credit. Of course I'm angling to get more and better lines. Lauren's not good at guarding her territory. Right now, the picture has two leads, and I don't like that. I'd like to emerge the winner, the one people remember. The writing isn't quite aimed that way yet. But I can work it around.”

“So you really are a bitch.”

“Yep.” She smiled. “We all would be, if we weren't so busy being nice. Let that be a lesson to you. You could use a little bitching up, too.”

9

They arrived at the Makeup trailer. “Be right back,” said Blaise. “Gotta make a pit stop.” She headed toward the B&B.

Opal unlocked the trailer door. She figured she could nap in Corvus's chair until he arrived—that would be easier than sneaking back into the B&B or driving her little economy car back to the motel in Redford.

Lauren, Rod, Corvus, and Magenta were already in the trailer. Corvus sprawled in his chair, his reading glasses perched on his nose, a novel in his hands and one of her lights angled so it shone on the pages. He straightened.

Opal wondered why he hadn't gone either to his room or to his private dressing room in the trailer next door. Maybe he was feeling social. She said good morning to everyone and hopped up on the makeup counter to think about Blaise. She had seen principal actors behave in ways that led to increased roles for them, decreased roles for others, but she'd never had an actor be so up front about it. You were supposed to maintain an attractive surface.

Well, in public. Lots of stories made the rounds about stars whacking their personal assistants with phones or other handy objects. Opal had observed some bad behavior, experienced some herself, and heard many stories about much worse.

Corvus watched her. “Where'd you go?” he asked.

“I had breakfast with Blaise,” she said.

He quirked both eyebrows.

Lauren was already in her clothes for the shoot. The fight Serena was having with Caitlyn today was apparently early in the picture, when Serena was still dressed in dowdy, repressed clothes—a khaki skirt, a bulky oatmeal-colored shirt with long sleeves—before her relationship with the Dark God opened her up to her dark side, and she went wild and vampy. She was in her chair, waiting for makeup. Magenta was still setting out her tools.

“How'd that happen?” asked Lauren.

“We were leaving the B&B at the same time,” said Opal.

Magenta and Lauren looked at each other, then at Opal with varying degrees of dismay.

“Well, okay, I heard something like that was going on,” said Lauren, “but I didn't want to believe it.”

“Believe it,” said Opal. “Corr said you mentioned rewriting last night, losing some of your lines, Blaise getting extra.”

“Yeah. It makes sense now.”

“She's angling for even more, Lauren. I hope you figure out how to handle this.”

“I'll come up with something.”

“Meanwhile, at breakfast, Blaise's landlady told us about a local monster that stalked women here in the fifties.”

“What?”

“We need to ask the woman at the B&B about this. Blaise's landlady said she would know about the monster if anybody did.”

“You could ask me,” said Corvus, “sometime in the near future.” His voice was deeper than usual. He stared at the new face of the Dark God, on its life-mask head on Opal's counter where she had set it out the night before. She had already altered the rest of the stack of latex to add the horns and the other slight changes the Dark God had made, matching the rest of her mask supplies to the Polaroids, using magic without qualm because there was no other way around the continuity problems.

“I'll do that,” said Opal. “You ready for this, Corr?”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and nodded. “Let's go. Wait. A kiss for luck first?”

She held his head between her hands and touched lips to his. He ringed her with his arm and drew her closer. She thought about what she had learned about him overnight, and some of it was funny and sad. She still loved him. Plus, he tasted wonderful, even flavored with coffee. At last he loosened his hold around her, and she pushed up and away.

She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, as though to print his kiss on memory, and said, “Try to hang on while I'm doing this, okay?”

“I will.”

She shaved him and moisturized him, and he watched her, smiling. “How can I not love somebody who treats me this way?” he asked as she mixed the adhesive.

“How many of your barbers have you fallen in love with?” she asked.

“All of them.”

She lifted the brow piece and applied fresh adhesive to the back of it, then laid it carefully across his temple. She checked the Polaroid she had taken the night before and nudged it a little sideways, then lifted the second piece of leafy latex skin. By the time she turned around, his eyes had changed, and it was the Invader looking at her with most of Corvus's face. The effect was eerie. She hadn't seen him using Corvus's real features before. He looked almost natural there.

“Thanks,” he said. “I respect your honor.”

“Well,” she said, and laid the next piece of his face on over Corvus's. “Are you an ancient entity?”

“I don't care to discuss that.”

“Did you steal girls fifty years ago from this town?”

“Let's get to know each other better before I tell you my personal history,” he said. “Where's my kiss?”

She wondered if she still had Flint's energy to shield her from him. It hadn't stopped her from kissing Corvus, or even sleeping with him. She held out her hand, trying to ignore the shudder in her flesh. He took it in hands she had just been embraced by and brought it close to his mouth. The burn of Flint's blessing heated her hand as the Invader drew her hand toward his mouth. “Clear a little space,” she said to herself, reassured and again charmed by Flint's gift. She gave him the back of her hand to kiss, but then brought back the shield before she lost much energy to him.

“Strict,” he said.

“We have work to do,” she said. “If you're hungry, I'll get you food. Right now, let me finish putting on the mask, okay?”

He stared up at her, and leaves pushed up out of his skin, tracing themselves in the same paths as those on the mask she had made, changing his face from within.

“Don't!”

“It's more comfortable this way,” he murmured.

She saw Lauren watching her and Corvus. Magenta watched in the mirror. She looked pale.

“Turn him back and let me do it my way,” she said. “You have to be honorable, too, or I'll leave right now.”

“You won't,” he whispered. “You can't.”

She set down her tools and walked toward the door.

The whisper followed her. “You'd leave him to me?”

She gripped the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door. He asked a good question, but she had to stay strong, or she might lose Corvus altogether. She stepped out of the trailer onto the landing. The door almost closed behind her before she heard the voice of the Invader.

“All right,” he said. “Come back.”

She stood on the landing under the overcast sky, savoring a brief moment of the other choice. Walk away from all of this. Never do this job again. Her mother still kept her room for her at home. It would drive Opal insane to live at home for any length of time, but she could rest there and figure out a different way to use her gifts, begin a whole new career. It wasn't too late.

Or, less dramatically, just get a job on a movie filming on another location.

Lose Corvus, with whom she was still hopelessly in love. There was a chance he would be back. Maybe she could increase the likelihood of that if she stuck around.

She turned and went back into the trailer.

Corvus looked like himself again except for the two pieces of prosthesis she had attached. His eyes had extra light in them, so she knew the one she loved wasn't present.

“I
will
walk,” she said.

“I understand,” said the Invader.

“All right, then.” She went back to work, and he left the face in its natural state, letting her do the crafting to make it unnatural. She did not let even a little magic help her.

By the time she had almost finished fitting the Invader into his face and looked up again, Lauren was gone; Blaise had come and gone without her noticing; and the two girls who were playing Serena and Caitlyn as adolescents were in the chairs. Magenta was working on them; Rod was undoubtedly on the set with Blaise and Lauren.

“Have you met the girls yet?” Magenta asked Opal, her tone flattened.

“Not yet,” said Opal. She dipped a brush in gilt, another in adhesive. She painted a thin outline around one of the leaves on Corvus's cheek and scattered gold over it. The Invader watched her, smiling. She checked his face against last night's Polaroid and decided he would do.

Opal called Kelsi, who said she'd bring Corvus's robe right over. There was something to be said for the convenience of a simple costume without changes. She wandered over to where Magenta was working.

“Hey, guys,” Magenta said. “This is Opal. She's the creature wrangler. Opal, this is Gemma Goodwin and Bettina Lysander.”

“Nice to meet you,” Opal said.

“Hey,” said the darker girl, slightly plump, who looked pretty much like a younger version of Lauren. She looked about twelve. Her voice was deep. “I'm Serena the younger, aka Gemma.”

The other girl, who looked even younger, was a match for Blaise in cherubic beauty and silver-gilt crinkled hair. Maybe she also matched Blaise in temperament; she scowled at Opal, turned back to Magenta. “Yeah, so? Finish up, will you?”

“You're done,” said Magenta.

Bettina slitted her eyes and glared at Magenta. “You spent ten more minutes on Gemma than on me. I'm telling.”