Darkest Night - Smoke And Mirrors Part 15

"Cool."

"All right, just hold on for a minute. You lot . . ." Peter's gesture took in Lee, Hartley, Mouse, and Kate. ". . . can hear Brianna's baby crying. You . . ." A considerably more truncated gesture at Tony. ". . . can actually see it. Saw it. The ghost of it?"

"Yes."

"And other ghosts?"

"Yes."

"And a reenactment of them dying?"

"Yes."

Peter ran both hands back through his hair and sighed. "And we're locked in here because the house is trying to collect us. As ghosts?"

"Probably."

"So it wants us dead, and is planning on driving some of us mad . . ."

"Short drive for some of you," Mason muttered.

". . . and having them kill the rest?"

"That's what it's done in the past," Tony told him, suddenly needing to break the string of one-word answers.

"This is so unfair," Amy muttered, arms folded and chin tucked in tight against her chest. "I should be seeing ghosts.

Why do you get to see ghosts? You don't give a c.r.a.p about other realms. If anyone's going to be a medium, it should be me, not you."

"So you're what?" his mouth asked before his brain could kick in. "A large?"

"Bite me, ghost boy. And," she continued indignation levels rising, "why do they . . ." Her gesture verged on rude, ". . . get to hear ghosts and I don't!"

It was a rhetorical question, but Tony thought he actually knew the answer. Back in the spring, Lee, Mouse, and Kate had all been shadow-held-not once, but twice. First they'd been ridden by individual shadows sent out to seek information, and then, as the s.h.i.+t really started to hit the fan, they'd been controlled by shadows along with the rest of the crew. Hartley and Mason had also been individually controlled, but Hartley hadn't been at work the day the Shadowlord had come calling and Mason had still been under the influence of his original shadow. Because Hartley was an alcoholic of long standing, his synapses were probably already a little fried before the whole shadow incident so no surprise it had only taken a single to open him up. Mason . . . Tony shot a speculative look at the actor and received a clear, nonverbal f.u.c.k you in return. Although Mason said he couldn't hear the baby, he had been shadow-held for longer than anyone else.

None of which he was going to mention to Amy.

As for Brianna . . .

He had no idea.

"I mean, Brianna makes sense," Amy went on. "She's a kid and certain energies are attracted to kids."

Oh.

"It's like the baby. The younger the energy the more power it has, that's why you can hear it."

Heads nodded. Tony wondered if it was the purple hair. You got purple hair and suddenly you're an expert on the weird.

"So what do we do now?" Zev asked over the sound of Karl crying.

Finally, an easy question. "We get out of this house."

"And how do we do that?" Mason drawled. "Given that we can't get the door open."

"Uh . . ." They all actually seemed to be waiting for an answer. From a production a.s.sistant. Which was weird.

Granted, a production a.s.sistant who could see dead people, so maybe they thought the two weirds canceled each other out. Tony had no idea. "Why don't we try tossing a chair through one of those tall windows in the drawing room?"

"Oh, no, wait just one minute, Tony." Peter's hands rose into "soothing egos" position. "We should see if all the doors and windows are locked before we start breaking things. Windows cost money, and CB'll have my hide if this shoot goes over budget."

"I never think I'd say this," Sorge murmured, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder, "but if Tony is right and we are locked in with a crazy bad house, CB is the least of our worry."

"If Tony is right," Mason repeated. "Big 'if'. He's a production a.s.sistant, for Christ's sake."

"I'm not." Lee stepped forward until he stood by Tony's side. "Neither is Mouse. Neither is Kate. Neither is Hartley." They stirred as Lee named them, but they didn't step forward. "And you know what? It doesn't matter. Getting the h.e.l.l out of here as soon as possible sounds like a good idea, and since it seems obvious that the guys outside can't get in-or they would have by now," he added pointedly, "-it's up to us." Pivoting on a heel, he headed out of the hall, throwing, "CB can bill me for the window," back over his shoulder. He paused at the edge of the candlelight. "Tina?"

Tina snapped on her flashlight and followed.

"No fair! I want to throw something through the window!" Brianna raced after the script supervisor, Ashley ran after her sister, and the moment after that, the hall began to empty.

"Baaa! Bunch of sheep," Amy muttered. "One person moves and the rest follow." But Tony noticed she picked up a candle and came into the drawing room with the rest.

With the curtains open, the gla.s.s in the windows looked like black velvet. Completely opaque and completely non- reflective. When Tina swept the flashlight beam across them, they seemed to absorb the light.

Mouse took the captain's chair from Lee's hand. "I throw harder."

A heavy gla.s.s candy dish flew past him and shattered against the window, the pieces skittering across the hardwood floor.

"Brianna!" Brenda's voice sounded a lot like the candy dish looked.

"It wasn't me!"

"I play baseball," Ashley explained as all eyes turned to her. "Third base. It didn't go through the window."

"I throw harder than you," Mouse pointed out. He tested the weight of the chair, then took two long steps away from the window. "Give me room."

"All right, listen up; if you're holding a candle, step back to the far wall, we don't want them blowing out." Moving up next to the cameraman and waving Lee off to one side, Peter indicated where he wanted the candleholders. "Ashley, Brianna-Brianna, don't play with the lamp, it's an antique-you two stay with Brenda."

She jumped at the sound of her name. "I thought Tony was in charge of them."

"Well, right now, you're standing next to them. When that window breaks, I want them to be the first ones out."

Tony couldn't help but notice that final bit of information made Brenda a lot happier about baby-sitting.

"Everyone else," Peter continued, "make sure Mouse has room to swing. Are we ready?"

"Let's settle down people. Action in . . ." Adam's voice trailed off as he realized what he was doing. "Peter started it."

"I'm the . . ." Peter twisted around to see Mouse frowning down at him from about four inches away. "Right." During half a dozen quick steps to one side, he regained his composure. "What are you waiting for, then?"

The chair had the same effect on the window the candy dish had-none at all. The window had the same effect on the chair except that the pieces were larger and flew farther from the point of impact.

"Son of a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" Mouse yanked the splinter from his arm and tossed it to one side.

Tony watched it tumble through the air, saw the blood glistening on the wood, and knew he wouldn't reach it in time.

Call him paranoid, but giving more blood to the house seemed like a very bad idea. Panic spat out the seven words in one long string of sibilants and vowels and the splinter smacked into his hand. He shoved it in his pocket, wiped his band on his jeans, and realized that everyone had been too concerned with Mouse and/or the impregnability of the window to notice.

"What was that you just said?"

f.u.c.k! Almost everyone! Heart in his throat, he spun around to find Lee staring at him speculatively. There were days he'd give his right nut to have Lee stare at him speculatively. This was not one of them.

"Just, you know, swearing."

"Yeah?" A dark brow rose. "In what language?"

He didn't know. Arra had written the words of the spells out phonetically. She hadn't mentioned the name of the language. Which, as it happened, wasn't the point. And Lee was waiting for an answer.

And waiting.

And. . .

"This is nuts!"

And Tony was saved by the breakdown. As half a dozen other conversations went quiet, Tony turned to see Tom, the electrician standing alone, his chest rising and falling in a jerky, staccato rhythm.

"This is totally f.u.c.king CRAZY!"

"Calm down, Tom." Adam moved toward him, one hand outstretched. "We'll get through this."

"No, we won't! We'll die!" Tom batted Adam's hand away and turned wild eyes toward Tony. "He says we're all going to die!"

Heads pivoted to follow the accusation.

Great. "I said the house was going to try and kill us. Not the same thing."

The same heads pivoted back again to catch the electrician's response.

"d.a.m.n right it's not. Because it's not going to kill me." Tom slammed his fist against his sternum. The room had gone so quiet that the hollow thud of impact sounded unnaturally loud. "Me, I'm leaving!" Before anyone could remind him they'd been locked in, he ran for the window.

"Stop him!" Rubber soles squealing against the polished wood, Tony raced to intercept knowing even as he moved he didn't have a hope in h.e.l.l of getting there in time.

Easily avoiding Adam's grab, Tom shoved Kate hard into Mouse rather than go around her. He was running full out when he hit the window.

He didn't thud at the moment of impact.

He crunched.

Tony skidded to a stop beside the body.

"But. . . I thought I heard the window break," said Amy's voice in the background as he dropped to one knee and felt for a pulse.

"It wasn't the window." Zev's voice.

No pulse. No surprise considering the weird angles and the places the bones had come through the skin . . .

f.u.c.k!

"Mouse! Lift him off the floor!"

"Wha . . ."

"Do it!" When Peter added his support, Tony started breathing again. Peter would remember about the blood.

Directors saw the big picture. "Tina! Sorge! Get that drop sheet off the gear in the library!"

Then Peter's hand was around his arm, pulling him to his feet and out of the way as Tina and Sorge raced back with the drop sheet and Mouse laid the body on the plastic tarp and folded the edges up over it.

Then they all stared as the smudges of blood disappeared into the floor.

"Is that bad?" Peter murmured.

"Probably not good," Tony acknowledged.

"Still, the whatever is already awake."

"Yeah, but I don't think we should encourage it."

Brianna poked the side of the tarp with one bare foot. "Is he dead?"

"Yes, honey." Brenda dropped to her knees and put her arms around the girl, forcing comfort out past what looked to be imminent hysterics. "He's dead."

"Really dead?"

"Really most sincerely dead," Mason told her with exaggerated cheer. "He's the inconsequential character who dies in the first act so we all know the situation is serious."

"That's not funny," snarled one of the grips. Tony thought his name was Saleen but he wasn't sure; the man had only been with CB Productions a few weeks. Mason snorted. His candle flame flickered. "I wasn't joking."

"And it's not even original!"

Fangs showed below Mason's curled lip.

Brianna poked the body again. "So he's not going to get up?"

"No, honey. He's . . ." Brenda paused. Frowned. Paled. Looked up at Tony.

Who didn't understand the question. "What?"