Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  The power emanating from her was mesmerizing. Kirsten had seen Helena rehearse this dance on countless occasions and always she had felt the strength of her performance but that was nothing compared to what was happening to her now. It was as though the mounting frenzy of Helena’s writhings was becoming a force of its own, moving with the mist throughout the set and invading the very soul of all those present. Kirsten could feel the pummelling rhythm of the drums as though their every beat was being thrummed upon her heart.

  Then suddenly the drums stopped, cutting the air with silence.

  Kirsten tensed as sparks of yellowy-green light exploded from the portals of the altar. Helena was lying across it, the snake grasped between her legs its head poised over her face, its flickering tongue lashing towards her. Then suddenly she was upright and as her eyes blazed across the set towards the spot where Anna was secreted a piercing and spine-chillingly demented scream flew through the night. A tremor of unease coasted through Kirsten’s stomach at the evil that seemed to seep from the frozen expression on Helena’s face even as her heart swelled at the extraordinary power of the performance.

  ‘Hold it! Hold it!’ Kirsten shouted. ‘Nobody move!’

  The crane, which had been holding a close up of Helena’s face, swooped down to the altar like a ravenous vulture, taking fast-moving pans of the grisly objects, until finally it rose back into the darkness and Kirsten yelled, ‘Cut! Check the gates.’

  Breathless, Helena turned to Kirsten. Kirsten looked back. With the exception of those checking cameras no one moved. Not until both assistants had given the all clear did Kirsten allow herself to smile. As she did the relief that came into Helena’s eyes turned Kirsten’s smile to laughter.

  ‘It was brilliant!’ she cried waving her fists in the air. ‘Absolutely, fucking brilliant!’ and running over to Helena she threw her arms around her and the two of them danced around the altar, as everyone else started to applaud.

  Kirsten broke free when she saw Laurence coming towards her.

  ‘Do you want to do another for cover?’ he said.

  What Kirsten wanted was to go right ahead with the full drama of the scene, but there was no point in arguing with him now. ‘Yes, I suppose we ought,’ she said, ‘but that was perfect for me.’

  Laurence nodded then turned as they heard someone running up behind them.

  ‘Laurence, Kirsten,’ Kelly, one of the design assistants gasped. ‘I think one of you’d better come. Anna Sage is having hysterics over there. Ruby’s gone off her head or something and Jean-Paul’s threatening to do them both an injury if they don’t shut up!’

  Kirsten and Laurence went after the designer, around the edge of the set where the technicians were getting ready for another take, past the animal handlers who were already being organized for the cutaways, to the clump of trees where Anna, as Moyna O’Malley, had positioned herself to give Helena the eyeline.

  The moment she saw Laurence Anna ran towards him, her arms outstretched her whole body racked with sobs. ‘Get that woman away from me!’ she choked. ‘She’s mad! She’s insane! Get her away from me!’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Laurence demanded as he wrapped Anna in his arms, wincing as Ruby cackled with laughter. ‘For Christ’s sake, pull yourself together, Ruby!’ he shouted.

  But Ruby just gripped her sides and let out another wail of mirth.

  Kirsten went to her, took her by the shoulders and shook her. She started to cough, so hard it was making her retch.

  ‘She’s done it again,’ Anna sobbed into Laurence’s shoulder. ‘She’s trying to frighten me with all that witchcraft stuff. She’s off her head, I know she is, but . . .’

  ‘It’s not me doing the scary bits,’ Ruby wheezed. ‘It’s her!’ She was pointing at Helena. ‘She’s the one that did it. That look – you saw that look she gave her at the end . . . Stupid bitch thought it was for real. Thought an evil spell was being cast on her . . .’

  ‘Stop it!’ Kirsten shouted, so appalled at the way Ruby was speaking to Anna she wanted to slap her as much for that as she did for the fact that she was drunk on the set. She turned her angry eyes to Laurence. ‘Get Anna to her trailer, someone!’ she snapped still glaring at Laurence. ‘David! David! Where are you?’

  ‘Right behind you,’ he answered.

  ‘Get someone to take care of Ruby,’ Kirsten muttered under her breath. ‘Lock her in my trailer if you have to, and don’t let her out until she’s sobered up.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Anna was wailing, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.’

  ‘Laurence,’ Kirsten interrupted. ‘Could I have a word, please?’

  The two of them walked further into the woods out of earshot. ‘Please do whatever you have to do to calm her down,’ she said, ‘then get her into make-up. We’ll do her scene now.’

  ‘What? Are you saying you’re going to de-rig the camera before . . .’

  ‘That’s precisely what I’m saying. I don’t need another take on Helena, we’ll have her well covered on the wider shots and I want Anna’s scene done and her out of here before I do something one of us might regret.’

  An hour later everyone was over at the other set on the banks of the bayou. The frayed tempers of earlier had abated though Kirsten was fully aware that the tension and excitement Helena had created was ebbing too. She should have had this scene put back to another day when it could have been done the way she wanted it, and had Anna not gone to Laurence with her request then that was precisely what Kirsten would have done. As it was she’d allowed her feelings to cloud her judgement. It was the first time she’d done it, and it couldn’t have happened over a more critical situation.

  As the crew milled around setting props, dry-ice machines, lamps and cables, Kirsten watched the riggers haul the dolly into the house. The air was dank, there was a strong smell of mildew mingling with the chemical solution of the dry-ice and the bitter aroma rising from the brackish water of the bayou. Moisture dripped from the trees, night creatures rustled, scurried, squawked and chirped, but could barely be heard over the din of the crew. Kirsten looked up at the impenetrable sky where a thin sliver of the moon emerged from a bank of cloud and inwardly vented her frustration on a god who probably wasn’t even listening.

  After what seemed an interminable amount of time they were ready to shoot. The rehearsals had coughed up all kinds of problems, though Anna seemed remarkably well recovered which, perversely, irritated Kirsten even more. Still, at least the technical hitches had been dealt with and now it just remained for Kirsten to return to her chair while make-up did their finishing touches. However, she continued to stand over Anna who was sitting on the makeshift bed baring her neck to the make-up artist, going over some last minute notes. The room which was lit with a hot, purplish-red light, was horribly claustrophobic with its low ceiling and stone walls coated in moss and there was barely enough space for the bed and the camera mounted on the dolly. The floor was strewn with straw, the single window was boarded up and a small cannister of dry-ice in the corner puffed thin wisps of mist around the ragged blankets on the bed.

  Having gone over what was to happen Kirsten went out into the swirling mist to look for Laurence.

  Tucked in behind the monitors, unnoticed so far by anyone except Helena, Ruby sat swaying around on a canvas chair, so drunk she wasn’t any too sure where she was. How she’d managed to get herself there was a mystery Helena wasn’t interested in solving as she moved alongside Ruby, planting herself in such a way that Kirsten probably wouldn’t notice her. Then she beckoned to one of the riggers to come and fill out the blockade. They were so close to a take now that the last thing either Anna or Kirsten needed was Ruby throwing a tantrum as she was escorted from the set.

  Helena could see Kirsten and Laurence exchanging what looked like heated words at the door of the house, then both of them went inside. A few seconds later the make-up girl came out, then the camera operator squeezed in, checking the connections on th
e cables for he was doing this scene by remote control since once the camera started to move there would be no room for him.

  The whole atmosphere had a strange surreal quality about it, Helena was thinking to herself. It was as though they were all taking part in some kind of silent movie. Lips were moving, but it was as though no sound was coming out. But there was sound. It just seemed, oddly, to be coming from a long way off.

  She shivered, drew her cloak tighter around her and continued to watch as everyone moved about the set. After a while Kirsten and Laurence came out of the house, parted at the door and went to their monitors.

  Kirsten looked around, found the actor whose hands and back were to be featured in the scene, walked him to the house then gave a nod to the props man.

  ‘OK,’ she said, rubbing her hands together as she returned to her monitor. ‘Let’s do it.’

  As everyone moved into position she squeezed Helena’s arm as it linked through hers. ‘This isn’t going to work,’ she muttered. ‘The light’s all wrong, I want the door to open and close in shot, for Christ’s sake we have to see the guy come in. Shit!’ she suddenly seethed. ‘If it had been anyone else but Anna I’d have thought this through better. But now look what’s happening. We’ve got two hundred or more extras lined up for the ritual, we’ve got all the animals on stand-by, the make-up artists have slogged their guts out . . . I know it’s childish, Helena, but I want to cry. I’ve been looking forward to that ritual – it’s the biggest challenge of the entire film – and now that spoiled, pampered little cow has ruined it. Isn’t it enough that she has Laurence? Why does she have to fuck this up for me too?’

  ‘She hasn’t fucked it up,’ Helena said comfortingly. ‘We’ll do it. And it’ll be great, you’ll see.’

  ‘No!’ Kirsten suddenly cried, hearing the continuity girl give the wrong instructions to the props guy. ‘All we want for now is the end of the struggle – the hands leaving the throat, the retreating figure and a few second hold on Anna’s face. Ask Jake, can we do it with the door open to get the guy out?’

  ‘Sure we can,’ Jake answered, having heard the question. ‘Just give me a minute and I’ll sort it.’

  Kirsten nodded. ‘God, this is taking forever,’ she said to Helena and as she glanced at her watch her heart sank. ‘Just look at the time! We’ll never . . .’

  ‘Kirsten! Kirsten!’ Anna’s voice came from inside the house.

  ‘What is it?’ Kirsten said, pushing her way inside.

  ‘Could we just go over this again, please? If John here is going out of the door . . .’

  Kirsten turned to John. ‘You pause at the door – we’ll give you a mark. Give the camera time to pan back to Anna then go out of the door. It’ll already be open and as you come out it’ll be the cue for props to activate the mist. Then close the door behind you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Anna smiled.

  It was another ten minutes before the clapper-loader ran into position raising a thumb as the script supervisor called out the shot number; David had a final few words with the actors and Laurence went to stand beside Jake at the monitor positioned just in front of Kirsten’s.

  ‘OK, turn over,’ Kirsten said, as David cleared shot and came out of the house.

  ‘Camera’s rolling.’

  ‘Shot five hundred and one, take one.’

  Kirsten peered down at her monitor. After a moment or two she looked up, and was just drawing breath to call action when Ruby keeled over and landed with a thud on the grass.

  Despite herself Kirsten giggled. So too did Helena, but as one of the runners made to help Ruby up Kirsten said, ‘Leave her!’ Then turning back to her monitor she looked at it again for several moments before saying, ‘OK, and . . . Action!’

  Her eyes were fixed on the tiny screen as the frantic buzz of swamp life came over her headphones together with the muted sounds of the struggle going on inside the house. Immediately she made a mental note that the sound perspective was wrong. A dark figure was looming over Anna, his hands gripping her throat, his knee pressing hard into her chest. Anna’s eyes were twin pools of panicked terror as she tried to fight him off, but slowly, and alarmingly convincingly, as his fingers dug deeper into her delicate flesh, she began to relinquish the life from her body. The camera pulled back as the figure turned towards it, cloaking the screen in an unsteady movement of black. The camera moved with him to the door, still nothing more definable on the monitors than the sharp glint of a buckle. Just before the door the figure turned to look at the body on the bed. The camera panned with his gaze, registering the purple swellings on the neck, the blackened lips and faintly fluttering eyelids. A thick cloud of morning mist billowed in the draught from the closing door. Then, at the last minute Anna remembered that her eyes should be open, bulging, still steeped in terror and as her eyelids flew open Kirsten groaned.

  ‘Cut!’ she yelled, striding out from behind the monitor. ‘Set up for another. Make-up!’

  ‘On my way,’ Trudie called, already heading towards the house.

  ‘Too heavy on the mist,’ Kirsten shouted to the props man as she went to speak to sound while the make-up girl sorted out Anna. Behind her Helena was prodding Ruby with her foot, but the only response she got was a depleted groan. Laurence was wandering off the set, deep in conversation with one of the production managers. Everyone else was re-setting.

  Suddenly a scream came from inside the house. For a moment everyone froze. Then spinning round Kirsten started towards the house, Jake close on her heels. They burst in through the door to find the make-up girl backing towards them her hand clamped over her mouth. Kirsten’s eyes shot to Anna as the make-up girl stumbled into her. Kirsten shoved her aside and ran to the bed.

  ‘What is it? What’s happening?’ Jake cried, kneeling beside Kirsten.

  Kirsten lifted Anna’s shoulders and began shaking her. Jake got to work wrenching open the neck of her shirt.

  ‘Anna! Anna!’ Kirsten cried, slapping her face.

  ‘Get the nurse!’ Jake yelled.

  Two props guys hefted the bed away from the wall and one of them threw himself into the narrow gap to start the kiss of life.

  ‘Laurence! Somebody get Laurence!’ Kirsten shouted.

  ‘I’m right here,’ he answered, coming in through the door.

  He pushed his way to the bed and took over the mouth to mouth, keeping frantically at it until the nurse arrived. Immediately she pushed Laurence aside and laid her ear on Anna’s chest.

  Kirsten stood beside Laurence looking down at the determined ministrations of the nurse. Inside Kirsten was screaming with fury and frustration. Nobody spoke, there was no room to move, the only activity was the astonishing performance being played out on the narrow bed.

  ‘Get an ambulance,’ Kirsten muttered to anyone who was listening as the nurse pushed violently at Anna’s heart. ‘Get it now!’

  There was a scuffle at the door as someone ran off. A few seconds later the nurse turned to look up at Kirsten. The blood drained from Kirsten’s face as she turned to Laurence, her eyes wide with confusion and shock. Then they both looked back at the nurse whose slender face was pinched with distress.

  24

  Within twenty-four hours the New Orleans Police Department had set up an investigation headquarters on the first floor of the hotel. Anna’s body had been taken to the Coroner’s office, but as yet no one knew when the results of the post-mortem would be made known. Which, as Laurence remarked to Kirsten, made it odd that the police were so keen to begin interviewing. Laurence had been in touch with the Chief of Police, but all he had been told was that the day-record from the Coroner’s office had stated that the cause of death at this stage was unknown. Now the forensic pathologist was awaiting a toxicology report from the State laboratory.

  For a while it was as though the entire crew had gone into shock, no one spoke other than in hushed tones, and their faces were ashen masks of confusion, stupefied disbelief or, in some cases, distinct discomfort. T
he support actor who had taken part in the strangulation scene was under sedation, the shock had been too much for him to handle and his protestations of innocence, until quieted, had served perhaps more than anything else to fan the flames of morbid speculation. So far no one had actually voiced the suspicion that Anna’s death was unnatural, instead they were tentatively suggesting that perhaps the tension had affected her brain and a blood vessel had burst. Or that maybe she had had a heart attack, but it wasn’t long before some started to wonder if the rumour that she had overdosed just before the scene because Laurence had ended their relationship was true. And quite soon another kind of post-mortem was taking place behind the closed doors of the hotel bedrooms where many were asking, even conjecturing, as to who might have the strongest motive for killing Anna Sage.

  A copy of the rushes had been sent to the police and out at Little Joe’s Kirsten and Laurence played and replayed the scene to try and work out what might have happened. There was no doubt in either of their minds, mainly because of the way Anna had opened her eyes, that until the moment the door had closed she was still alive. And in the thirty or so seconds that had followed no one had entered the house. So, as far as they could see there was no question of foul-play.

  As the days passed and still no news of the cause of death was forthcoming the tension began building to such a pitch that it was as though a ticking bomb had been flung into their midst.

  It was in the middle of the morning, three days after Anna’s death, that Jane came to Kirsten’s room looking even paler than usual to tell Kirsten about the interrogation she had just undergone.

  ‘They didn’t actually come right out and say it,’ she said wringing her hands as she gazed down at the floor, ‘but they gave me the impression that they think Anna was murdered.’