Fall of Light (21 page)

“Norman,” said Lauren. She gripped Phrixos's arm more firmly. Opal came up on his other side, and he crooked an elbow so she could hang on him, too. What the hell. This was why she endured his presence without protest. She hooked her arm through his.

The man walked into the light of the nearby streetlamp, staring at Lauren's face. He had an engaging best-friend type of face, not leading man; slightly disheveled and good-humored, friendly blue eyes and a wide smile. His bangs flopped half over his eyes. “Evening,” he said.

“Norman,” said Lauren.

“Lauren.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, waiting for you, I guess.”

“I told you to stop that,” she said. “It's over, Norman. Find someone new.”

“It's not that easy.” He came closer. “There's no one else.” He bent to peer at her. “No one else is you.”

“Well, okay, I'll live with that hypothesis. I'm the only me. And I'm telling you to leave me alone, Norman. Seriously. Get over it and move on.”

He smiled as though that would change things. Opal, an educated observer, had to admit that he had an excellent and inviting smile.

“I'm not ready,” he said. “I can't stop thinking about you, Lauren. You won't leave my mind. I need you.”

“I don't need you, and I don't want you,” said Lauren. “Do you hear me?”

He shook his head. “I hear you, but I don't believe you.”

“Phrixos,” Lauren said.

“Come here, little man,” Phrixos said, his voice gentle and rich.

Norman backed up a step. “I'm not getting in range of those fists of yours. I'm besotted, not insane.”

“I won't hit you. I just want to shake the hand of the man who recognizes treasure when he sees it.”

“I'm not touching you,” said Norman.

“Very well. I'll touch you, then.” Phrixos eased out from between the women. In one stride, he stepped into Norman's breathing space, crowding him. He cupped his hands around Norman's head, tilted it back until Norman was staring up at his face. Norman shoved at Phrixos's chest, but the taller man didn't budge, even when Norman pounded on him. “Quiet,” Phrixos said, his voice gentle and thrilling. Norman slowed and stopped, hung limply in Phrixos's grasp.

“Good,” said Phrixos. “Listen to me. Hear me. Your memory and desire for this woman fade. They seep away. She is not in your blood. She is not in your brain. You do not need or want her. She is just another woman you worked with once. A pleasant acquaintance, nothing more. You have somewhere else to go, something else to do. She leaves your mind and you find another star to fix on. Say it.”

“She is not in my blood. She is not in my brain,” Norman whispered.

“You release her from your thoughts and let her go her own way.”

“I release her,” he muttered, almost too low to hear.

“You are content.”

“I am content.”

Phrixos lowered his hands from Norman's head to his shoulders, stabilized him. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Norman shuddered, shook his head as though he could cast off thoughts like water, and said, “Okay.”

“Can you stand?”

“Okay.”

Phrixos lowered his hands. Norman swayed a moment, then found his feet. “What am I doing here?” he asked.

“We don't know. You were following us,” said Phrixos.

“I was? Where are we?” He glanced around at the nearby forest, the mist, the night. He looked closer to home. “Hi, Lauren. Who are you?” he asked Phrixos, ignoring Opal. “You were in a horror movie, right?”

“Several. We're in Oregon, shooting a movie, but you're not in it. You just showed up here. Where's your home?”

“Los Angeles.” Norman frowned and got out his wallet, checked the currency compartment, pulled out some receipts. “Looks like I ate at an IHOP this morning, but I don't remember it at all. Here's a keycard for a hotel, the Bugle Arms. Wonder which room I have. What time is it?” He looked at his watch. “That late?” He glanced around. “I don't know what's the matter with me. Maybe I'm having a psychotic break. What's the date?”

Lauren said, “November seventh.”

Norman looked confused, unfocused. “I've lost a week. Last thing I remember was calling the airline to book a flight. Guess I was coming here, but I don't know why.”

“Maybe there are clues in your hotel room,” Lauren said. “What are you driving?”

Opal tried to remember what kind of car had followed her last night when they left the restaurant, but it had been dark.

Norman reached into his pocket, came up with a key attached to a plastic tag with writing on a slip of paper inside: Enterprise Rent-A-Car, and SILVER CAPRICE LIC. # KKO 951.

“Huh,” said Norman.

Lauren glanced around at nearby cars. She pointed. The Caprice was parked down the block from the B&B. They strolled over and checked the license plate. The numbers matched. Norman unlocked the passenger-side door and looked in. A litter of fast-food wrappers and white paper bags with a doughnut shop logo emblazoned on their sides lurked in wadded disarray in the footwell, and on the seat were a pair of binoculars, three bottled waters, a half-eaten sandwich falling out of its paper wrapper, a notebook with crabbed blue ballpoint handwriting in it, and a handheld digital recorder.

“Jeez,” said Norman. “What the hell have I been doing?”

Opal reached in and snatched the notebook and recorder.

“Hey!” Norman said.

“I'm pretty sure you don't need these anymore,” she said.

“How would you know? Have we even met? If that stuff belongs to me, I want it back.”

“No, you don't,” Phrixos said, a hand on Norman's shoulder.

“I sure do. Are you people robbing me?”

Phrixos rested a hand on Norman's head again, only this time Norman sidestepped. “Quit touching me! What are you, a pervert?”

“That and much more,” said Phrixos, gripping Norman's shoulder in one hand and his head in another. He aimed Norman's eyes toward his own again, and stared down with that peculiar intensity. “Let go of any records you have of Lauren. She's just someone you know, not someone you obsess about. You don't need anything you wrote down or spoke about her. Let it go. Repeat that.”

“Let it go,” Norman whispered.

“You feel all right, and you don't suspect us of any ill intentions toward you. You feel we are your friends.”

“You're my friends.”

Opal slipped the notebook and recorder into her messenger bag.

“You remember what number your room is in the hotel, and where it is. You remember a creative reason why you came up here that has nothing to do with Lauren. Maybe you're researching something for your career. Understand?”

“Yeah,” said Norman.

“Good,” said Phrixos. He stroked Norman's hair, then released him again.

Norman shuddered and said, “Where were we?”

“Hard to tell,” said Phrixos. “You ready to go back to your hotel now?”

“Yeah. I feel tired. Can't remember what I've been doing, but I'm worn out.”

“We'll see you later,” Phrixos said, and gave Norman's shoulder a little shove.

“All right. Good night.” Norman slammed the passenger door shut and rounded the car to climb in behind the steering wheel.

Opal stood beside Phrixos in the cold evening air and watched Norman drive away. When the car turned a corner and the taillights were no longer visible, Lauren let out a sigh.

“I don't know that that is permanent,” said Phrixos, one arm dropping to lie across Lauren's shoulders, the other resting on Opal's. “I didn't want him to forget forever, because there might be something in his memory we need later. Also, I'm low on energy right now. I could do a better job if you would feed me more.”

“Quit whining,” said Opal. “You drew from him, didn't you?”

He laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “A little. He can't supply the quality of energy I get from either of you. So, Lauren, a kiss as thanks?”

“Must I? I'm tired, too.”

“I see I have not sufficiently impressed you with my awesome majesty,” Phrixos said, but it was hard to tell whether he was joking. “In any case, my internal self grows restless, so I'll say good night. Opal.” He bent and pressed his lips to hers, and she let him, because no matter how tired she was, she was glad he had solved Lauren's problem, even if only temporarily. When his lips touched hers, though, he jerked back, and she realized Flint's shield of fire was still working, bless the boy for giving her weird energy that didn't get used up. She thought her lips free of the shield and reached for Phrixos, pulled him down and kissed him, sending him some of the extra power she had collected during the day.

He moaned with delight and drew more, but just when she was going to struggle and stop him, the draw halted; his taste changed, and so did his posture. She was kissing Corvus, who held her closer, then finally raised his head and looked around. “What a nice way to wake up,” he said. The green glow in his eyes had dimmed but not extinguished. “What are we doing now?”

“Solving Lauren's stalker problem, at least for the moment.”

“Oh?”

“Let's get food,” she said, and they headed back to the lot by the supermarket/soundstage where Hitch had left the Lincoln. On the drive to the IHOP, Opal brought Corvus up to speed on the Dark God's new name, Phrixos's behavior on the set with the girls, and his confrontation with Norman.

“He wanted to kill him?” Corvus asked as Opal parked on the edge of the IHOP lot.

“He didn't exactly say that,” said Opal.

“But he implied it,” Lauren said.

“Do you think he could?” Corvus asked. He held the restaurant door for them as they went in.

Tonight a different waitress seated them, a small, young brunette with black-framed glasses, a narrow smile, and a mouthful of chewing gum. “Hi, Erin. Jenny off tonight?” Corvus asked.

“Yeah.” The girl glanced down at her nametag, as though confirming her name was Erin. “You guys in the movie?”

“Sure,” said Corvus.

“Cool. This table all right?” She showed them to a table for four, not the corner booth they'd been in the last two nights.

“Sure.”

Opal hesitated to look around, wondering whether she would see someone she knew and get drawn into someone else's drama. She had plenty of her own. She hadn't seen any of the cast or crew's rental cars in the lot, but that didn't necessarily mean no one was here. It was a short walk from the crew hotel to the IHOP.

She saw only strangers. She sat facing the door, and Corvus seated himself beside her, Lauren on his other side. After the waitress asked them about beverages and went to get them, Corvus leaned forward, inspiring the women to lean forward, too. “Do you think he could kill someone?” he repeated.

“We don't know enough about him,” said Lauren.

“This morning one of the town old-timers told me a story about a monster who used to haunt Lapis during the fifties,” Opal said, then remembered she had mentioned this to both of them that morning. “He was called the Last of the Lost, and he stole young girls. Nobody ever found any bodies though. Plus, it's one of those stories you tell tourists to make your town more interesting. But what if there's some truth to it?”

“Did you ask him?”

“Yeah. He only answers questions when he feels like it.”

“We need you to be more active,” Lauren said. “Be our spy. Pay attention to what he's thinking. Were you awake at all today?”

“I was asleep again the whole day,” he said. “I kissed Opal in the morning, and then I woke up kissing her in the evening. Nice, but odd.”

“Your eyes are still glowing,” Opal said, “so I think Phrixos is still awake. Can you tell?”

“What?” He sat back, stared beyond her, then looked up at the ceiling. He put his hands on his cheeks, touched his lips. He held his palm in front of his eyes and stared, as though looking for a reflection of the glow. Frowning, he lowered his hand.

Opal dug a mirror compact out of her bag and presented it to him. “Take a look.”

He stared into the little mirror, blinked at his own green-enhanced eyes. “You left the contacts in.”

“Didn't use them today.”

“That's eerie,” said Lauren. “I never noticed.”

“I think you're blending now, Corr, and you should stop pretending you're not. Phrixos, are you present?”

Corvus frowned. He looked so like himself and so unlike Phrixos she felt like backing down, but she changed her mind. They needed to know who they were talking with.

“I don't feel like he's here,” said Corvus at last. “Still, there's the evidence of my eyes. Maybe we should talk about something else. Lauren, how did your day go?”

The waitress came and took their order, and then Lauren talked about the fight scene she had shot with Blaise that day. “Neil yelled at both of us equally. The writers were there, and he made them rewrite a piece of the scene so Blaise lost a couple of lines. They both seemed kind of irritable.”

“I wonder what's going on,” said Opal. “Tonight, I'll try a glass against the wall to see if I can hear them better. Trouble in paradise?”

“They have my corruption scene scheduled for tomorrow afternoon if you guys can finish up with the kids on time,” Lauren said, “which, considering how things are going so far, seems likely. Did you look at the pages?”