“I was asleep,” I said. “What did I say?”
“Something about handcuffs. I’m not sure I want to know.”
“I’m awake now,” I said. “Let me get to the computer and call you right back.”
At dinner, Teo had been impressed enough with my progress to give me permission to use his computer during the night. So I threw on my robe over the tank top and shorts I’d been sleeping in, wheeled my way down the hall, and knocked on Teo’s door. He answered drowsy and shirtless—ye gods—before turning without a word, climbing back up the ladder to his loft bed, and flopping back onto the mattress.
“There’s no way you’re sleeping through this,” I said. “I’m going to be talking the whole time.”
“I’m not sleeping anyway,” Teo grunted.
With a sigh, I wheeled myself over to the desk underneath him, shoving his chair out of the way and opening up a web browser before dialing the phone.
“You ready to do a little snooping?” I said to Berenbaum when he answered.
“I’ve got his usernames and passwords and secret questions and all that. For a checking account and two different credit cards.”
“How does a fairy get a credit card?”
“Most of them don’t, but Johnny’s got a whole fake identity set up, complete with job history and credit rating.”
“Why?”
“Even before all this went down, he was pretty sure he was going to retire here. He’s spent too much time on this side. Are you at the computer?”
“What am I looking for?”
“Go to the B of A site and put in the username Rivenholt.”
“So what happens to you if he starts, uh, fading?”
“You’ve seen my last couple of films, right?”
I decided not to answer that one. “If he spends more time in Arcadia, would it cure him?”
“Would take a long, long time. I’m sixty-seven years old, Millie. Maybe I’ll be around twenty years, maybe twenty minutes. Whatever time I have left, I’d like to have Johnny around.”
“We’ll find him,” I said. But as I entered Rivenholt’s info into the sign-in screens, I felt a twinge of guilt over the cop and the missing girl.
I wasn’t sure how much I should share with Berenbaum. Caryl, Berenbaum, and now this cop were all looking for the same man for different reasons. I honestly wasn’t sure I trusted any of them. My loyalty should have been to Caryl, but she had been the least forthcoming of all. She admitted she was damaged, she didn’t trust me with her phone number, and I’d seen wood rot when she looked at it funny.
“Here we go,” I said, looking at Rivenholt’s transaction record. I blinked at a charge from Amtrak. “Looks like someone skipped town.”
“I see that.” Berenbaum’s voice on the other end of the line was quiet; I’d have given anything to know what he was thinking.
“I wish it said where he was going,” I said.
“For that, check out credit card number two,” said Berenbaum. “Place d’Armes, that’s a hotel in New Orleans. Big fey hot spot. We stayed there when we were shooting Red Cotton.”
“Why would he take a train? That’ll take days. Plus, Union Station is creepy.”
“It’s his facade. Works like one of those ankle bracelets. If he goes outside the perimeter, some kind of alarm goes off and he becomes trackable. But Caryl says train tracks act like a signal scrambler or whatever; something about parallel lines of iron between him and the earth. Anyway, the good news is that an airplane could easily get there before he does.”
“Imagine his surprise when the Project greets him at the New Orleans station and offers to take his bags.” I was already on the Amtrak site, clicking and searching. “Wait, wait, hold up a second,” I said.
“What is it?”
“Would he be trackable on a bus?”
“If he was outside the perimeter, yeah.”
“There are only three times a week he can take a train straight to New Orleans,” I said. “Soonest one after his ticket purchase is three o’clock tomorrow. We can still catch him!”
There was a short silence on the end of the line. “Millie,” he said quietly, “I don’t think you ought to be working for the Arcadia Project.”
I blinked in the darkness. “Why not?”
“Because you ought to be working for me.”
21
My face flamed so hot I was afraid I would fry the circuits of my phone. It was a joke, right? I bit my tongue.
“You want to direct, right?” he said.
“What makes you think that?”
“Millie. I’m a UCLA alum, and I’m on the selection committee for the Seattle festival. When these words pop up in the news, I look at the pictures.”
“That was more than a year ago.”
“I’m good with faces, and yours rang a bell, so I did a little research.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
“You are an idiot. You’ve got more rage than brains, and it showed in The Stone Guest.”
Was there anyone alive who hadn’t seen my stupid film?
“If you ever learn to leash that, you could be good. Maybe great if you track down your Echo, and I know somebody who could help with that.”
I dug my thumbnail into the edge of Teo’s desk. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you haven’t given up. If you can make sure nothing bad happens to my Johnny, I will owe you one. A really big one.”
I wanted to be more exhilarated. But all I could hear was the condition he’d placed on the offer and recognize it for what it was. Payment for a favor, not a validation of my talent.
Then again, this was Hollywood. When a door opens, you don’t make a fuss over who’s holding it and why. On the other hand, after everything that had happened, wouldn’t I be better off keeping a low profile?
“Thank you, Mr. Berenbaum,” I said. “You have no idea what this means to me.” How could he? I wasn’t sure myself.
• • •
Teo pounded on my door at eight a.m., sounding like he’d already had nine cups of coffee. “It’s omelet day!” he yelled through the door. “What do you want on yours?”
“Um.”
“Make up your mind and get your ass downstairs! No one sleeps in on Saturdays!” And then he was gone.
He wasn’t kidding. When I finally pulled on my BK, some shorts, and a tank top and carefully made my way downstairs on crutches, I saw that the dining room and kitchen were alive with cheerful chaos. Everyone else was already there, half-dressed, drinking juice and coffee and mingling like actors at a producers’ party.
I managed to awkwardly hobble my way between Tjuan and the doorway into the kitchen, where a bewildering array of possible omelet ingredients were on display on the kitchen island. Teo was already hard at work at the stove; the bearded man whose name I always forgot hovered just behind him like a nervous father waiting to cut the cord. I smiled a little as I watched Teo intent on his work.
“So,” Gloria’s voice rose above the din, “Tjuan opens up Lilydrop’s jacket, and I give you my word, no less than a dozen oranges come falling out onto the floor. We had to give her a three-year ban; I feel so bad for poor Jenny. I told her this might be a good time to get pregnant.” Amid the scattered laughter that followed, Gloria noticed me and gave me a cheery wave. “Have y’all met Minnie yet? This is the new gal, everyone.”
I didn’t bother correcting her about my name; I hadn’t given up hope that I could get on her good side. My housemates greeted me with varying degrees of enthusiasm, except for Teo and a petite greasy-haired brunette I didn’t know. Teo was occupied with his latest creation, and the young woman seemed wrapped up in her own little world.
“Have you met everyone?” Gloria asked me.
“Not officially,” I said. “It’s o
kay, though, if—”
“I know you’ve met my partner, Tjuan; and my boyfriend, Phil; and Song, who’s out in the dining room with Miss Caryl.”
“Caryl is here? I didn’t—”
“Song keeps things running like clockwork, and her baby boy is something special. Over there, that’s Phil’s partner, Stevie—don’t be rude now, Stevie!—and you know Teo, of course.”
“Thanks. It’s nice meeting everyone. Would you excuse me a second?” I tried to do a one-eighty in the crowded kitchen, and ended up planting one of my crutches on Tjuan’s foot. The look he gave me was frosty.
In the dining room, I didn’t spot Caryl right away. It must have been a subtler version of her car-hiding magic, because when I specifically focused on finding her, there she was next to Song, working her way through a plain omelet that had been cut into dozens of tiny pieces. Her gloves were lying next to her on the table. Curiously, I looked at her hands but didn’t spot anything odd. I’d been half hoping for acid scars or something.
“Hey, Caryl,” I said, working my way over to her side of the table. “Where’ve you been?”
“Arcadia,” she said, without lifting her eyes from her omelet.
“What for?”
“Replenishing my magic.”
I wished I hadn’t left my fey glasses in my room; I couldn’t gauge her mood without seeing Elliott. Song looked between the two of us and immediately took her plate to the kitchen, baby snoozing on her back in a sling.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” I said.
“You’re not in any trouble,” she said, finally meeting my eyes. “I am aware that you must be feeling especially vulnerable in a new situation, which is likely to exacerbate your symptoms. I have asked Song and Teo to make themselves available for anything you might need, and I take full responsibility for the lack of support you have received during your first few days. I’ve been trying to track down the source of an anomaly in the perimeter ward, and I assumed that this Rivenholt situation would be a simple introduction for you. Obviously I misjudged the situation on a number of levels, and you have my sincerest apologies.”
“Wow,” I said, when Caryl had stopped. “You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
For a moment her eyes wandered. “So it would appear,” she said, apparently watching Elliott.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing comes to mind, but I could probably draw up a list of things I would like for you not to do, at least until I can resolve some of the other issues that are currently on my plate.”
“Gotcha,” I said. “I’ll try not to be an extra slice of crazy. You’ll be happy to know, with Berenbaum’s help I got some great new info on the viscount’s movements. He’s got a ticket for a train to New Orleans that leaves this afternoon. I thought maybe Teo and I could go intercept him at the station.”
“New Orleans?” Caryl tapped a finger against her lips. Lack of sun exposure made her hands childishly smooth. “That’s where our national headquarters is located. I wonder if that is significant, or if it was just his way of trying to get from one perimeter to another without triggering the alarm. You see, train tracks—”
“Berenbaum told me.”
“Good. Either way, I’m afraid that leaving his Gate city without authorization is a very serious offense.”
“How many cities is the Project in?”
“Worldwide, I couldn’t begin to count. Here we have at least one office in every state, but Gates exist in only three US cities.”
“Here, New Orleans, and . . . ?”
“New York. Each traveler is assigned to a specific Gate, and fey are not allowed to leave the respective perimeter without an escort. On top of everything else Rivenholt has put us through, this attempt to flee may be enough to earn him permanent expulsion.”
I felt a pang for Berenbaum at the thought. “He may be running from the cops,” I said. “A plainclothes detective staked out the Residence and followed me across the street, asking me about ‘John Riven’ and some missing girl.”
Caryl made a severe shooing motion at what I could only assume was an overexcited Elliott. “Law enforcement knows to associate this address with him? That is bad.”
“I saw the same cop in Santa Barbara, too.”
“Most likely Vivian set him on the scent to make our lives more difficult.”
“Berenbaum thinks Vivian was a trap Rivenholt set for the cop, or possibly for Aaron Susman. Best theory I have right now is that Rivenholt got involved in a feud between Susman and Berenbaum and did something that’s gotten him into deep trouble. Does Susman have a daughter, or a young girlfriend?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’ve tried calling him a couple of times, but I can’t get through, and Berenbaum was vague about what they were fighting about.”
“Aaron Susman?” came a cheery voice from the direction of the kitchen. Apparently Gloria had decided to eavesdrop. “You don’t know why he’s mad at Berenbaum? I thought you were involved in the industry.”
“I was in film school a year ago,” I said, turning to her with as pleasant an expression as I could manage. “But I’m not caught up on the latest. What do you know?”
“Oh, honey,” said Gloria. “I thought everybody knew. Berenbaum’s giving Warner Bros. the old heave-ho and starting his own studio.”
I gaped at her. “After working with Warner for thirty-odd years, and pushing seventy now, he’s starting a new studio?”
“Sure is. He and his partners started construction on the main office complex a couple of weeks ago, down where they bought all those soundstages in Manhattan Beach.”
Caryl’s brow furrowed. “But this must have been in the works for months, if not years.”
“They were trying to keep it under wraps till Black Powder was in the can, since that’s one of Susman’s, but apparently word leaked out sometime last month.” She put a hand to her mouth in an exaggerated oops!
“I still don’t understand,” said Caryl. “I assume Susman was left out of the project, but why? Whom did Berenbaum choose?”
Gloria looked at Caryl with bald astonishment. “Do you two girls honestly mean to tell me you hadn’t heard? Minnie I can understand, bless her heart, but Miss Caryl, as much as you dog Vivian Chandler’s every move, I thought sure you would know.”
“Vivian?” I blurted. “The damn vampire we’ve been talking about for two days is his business partner?”
“Uh-huh. Her and Inaya West.”
22
Breakfast was officially the last thing on my mind now, but in the interest of improving my relations with my partner, I waited patiently for my turn. As I headed toward the dining room with my omelet, I heard Tjuan in mid-conversation with an agitated Phil.
“Your name’s not on it?” Phil said. “You rewrote the damn thing from scratch!”
“That’s how it works,” said Tjuan, feeding a scrap of bacon to Monty, who was perched nearby on the table. “I get the money, they get the credit.”
Phil snorted. “I wouldn’t ghostwrite one note of a song; I don’t care how much they offered.”
“I don’t want the damn credit. My name does a script more harm than good anymore.”
I must have been gaping at Tjuan like a fish as I sat down; I left an empty chair between us for the sake of politeness. “You’re a for-real screenwriter?” I said.
“Nope.” He slammed shut like a vault. Monty’s ear flicked backward, and he jumped down off the table, bacon notwithstanding.
“Sure you are!” said Phil. “Just because you don’t get any—”
“We’re done talking now,” said Tjuan, and Phil sighed. I took the hint and gulped down the rest of my omelet in silence.
Was that why Tjuan was so hostile to me? Did he see me as competition? If so, he’d be thrilled to hear
that Caryl’s grand plans for my career involved me fetching lattes and picking up dry cleaning. When I was finished eating, I went to pay Teo my compliments before excusing myself to call my more tempting career option.
“Berenbaum,” he answered, packing about as much stress as a man could cram into three syllables. I felt a stab of guilt but powered past it.
“It’s Millie,” I said.
“I know, kiddo, I’ve got caller ID. What’s up?” Short, clipped. I knew not to take it personally; Dr. Davis and I had worked on this. What is the goal of this interaction? My goal was to get information, not to stroke my ego.
“I found out what you and Susman were arguing about.”
He didn’t respond right away. I hated not knowing if it was distraction, guilt, annoyance, confusion, or something else entirely.
“And?” he finally said.
“I just wondered why you didn’t bring it up before.”
“Didn’t I?” He sounded so confused it was contagious. Had he?
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Are you still planning to go to the train station today?”
The change of subject set off alarm bells. “Absolutely. But don’t you find it odd that one of your business partners was leaving Johnny insistent voice mails and the other one was invited to his resort room?”
“You’re saying you think this has to do with the studio?”
“That didn’t occur to you when Teo brought up Inaya the first day?”
“He said she was having drama with Johnny. Johnny’s not a partner in the studio, so why would she call him about it instead of, I don’t know, me?”
“A good question.”
“Ask her if you want, so long as you don’t mention fairies, but I’m serious about staying off Vivian’s radar.”
“If she’s so dangerous, why are you even working with her?”
“She promised not to cause me harm.”
“And you believe her?”
“Fey,” he reminded me.
“Right, fey can’t lie. Sorry, I’m used to doubting everything people say.”
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