Fall of Light (35 page)

Opal sighed and sat on the bed. Neil dropped into a chair facing her and leaned forward, his hands gripping his thighs, his face thrust toward hers as though he were about to bite off her nose. “What the hell have you done to my film?” he yelled.

Opal took a breath and felt her Flintfire spark up. Suddenly her shield was back, a second and invisible skin. She laughed, because she hadn't thought of the fire in terms of shielding her from a normal human assault, but she still felt better than she had without it.

“What are you laughing at?” Neil yelled, even louder.

“What the hell
could
I do to your film?” she asked.

“Rumor has it you're some kind of witch,” said Neil, in a more conversational tone of voice. “After what I saw in that flaming handheld playback and what I know about where I've spent our special effects budget, I believe it. Of course, I absolutely do not believe in anything supernatural. I know how people get effects. I can debunk anything—one of the reasons I relish making monster films. Gives me a chance to see what fools these mortals really can be. But this afternoon, you—and he—and good Lord, the rest of us—Fran can say anything she likes about spiked water or hallucinogenic mold spores or some kind of hypnotism, but that doesn't explain what I saw on the handheld.”

“I like the mold spores theory,” Opal said.

“I don't give a damn what you like. Tell me what happened today, and whether you can make it happen again.”

Tobias had talked about the atmosphere of people believing what they usually wouldn't. Atmosphere. Hmm. “I'm not making strange things happen. There's a local power that's doing it,” she said.

“What does that mean,
a local power
?” Neil jumped to his feet and paced the narrow aisle between the end of the bed and the dresser. “Politics? I've met the mayor in Lapis. Fran told me I had to make nice. Guy couldn't sell shelter in a blizzard.”

“Do you have a religion?” Opal asked.

“Religion is for idiots. Will you quit stalling and get to the point?”

“All right. A local god wants to use your movie to get famous.”

“What?”

“He gave the writers the idea for the script. He influenced the choice of locations. That altar stone and all that, what did you think when you saw it? Those were naturally occurring rocks?”

“I thought the locals were very odd. I assumed some local lunatic built it for some weird thing they do at a harvest festival or something. Then again, the rocks are very solid, and—right, it was there already, wasn't it? Even getting permissions from the owner of the site—Fran said it was dead easy.”

“There's a god in the ground there, and people used to worship him, and he wants them to start up again. If the movie gets distribution, and people see it and feel even the slightest hint of belief, maybe he gets—”

“He
wants
the movie to succeed. He's not trying to sabotage it,” Neil said. “Well, what the bloody hell was this afternoon about, then? That footage isn't going to edit well with everything else we've done. What was the point? Was he trying to communicate with us? Are we reduced to hand signals and semaphores? Can't we just ask him what he wants, and give it to him?”

“Well, we kind of can,” she said, “because he's been possessing Corvus.”

“The god wants to fuck you! What's it like being fucked by a god?”

“Do you want to try it?”

“Hell, yes, or the possession—no, cancel that, I don't know what it means. It could be like a really bad drug and leave me a wreck. I don't take chances like that anymore. But if he could possess Blaise—”

“Don't even think it,” Opal said, her voice freezing.

“Why not?”

“Possession is a serious business for everybody concerned.”

“If it makes your boyfriend more convincing in the part, then it's a good thing . . . Hmm. The script is about an evil god who makes his followers suffer.” He dropped into the chair again and peered at her. “Are you suffering?”

“I think Bethany came up with the suffering part,” Opal said. “I don't know for sure what this god wants his followers to do. The jury's still out on whether he's evil, though I've seen him do some things I thought were questionable.”

“If the god didn't hurt people, would you support him? I'm pretty sure we can't use most of what we shot this afternoon without going to a completely other market, but maybe there's some other way we can salvage this. I mean, even though I resent him like hell, I have to confess Weather is a genius in the part. He could
make
this film, if we can finish it. I need a success. My last film tanked.”

“I don't know what the god wants,” Opal said, “or if I'll ever get Corvus back. Did you see what he did to Erika?”

“Erika? Who's that? Oh, that p.r. bitch? What happened to her?”

“He laid her on the altar and drank her blood. Hell, you were there. You almost interrupted. But then Phrixos—” Phrixos had pressed Neil's forehead. Neil had changed from a yelling tyrant to someone calm.

“Phrixos?”

“That's what I call the entity possessing Corvus.”

“Phrixos. All right. What did Phrixos do? I don't remember anything about this.”

“I guess he messed with your memory,” said Opal.

Neil looked thoughtful. “That doesn't sound good. How was the woman afterward?”

“I don't know. Right afterward, she was mad about it, but then we went back to work. I had other things on my mind, and I haven't seen her since. When's the last time you saw her?”

“Can't remember. Didn't care enough to pay attention.” Neil shifted in the chair, frowned mightily. “That's neither here nor there. What I want to know is whether we can get back to work tomorrow.” He heaved himself to his feet, gripped handfuls of hair. “Gawd,” he said. “I can't believe I'm discussing this with the makeup girl!”

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.”