Deadly Ride
Page 18
“So what happened?”
“Well, I was mopping the floor when a bunch of wizards came in.”
“Wizards?”
“The people casting the spells,” Jarrett said helpfully. “Harry Potter is a wizard, and so is Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, is a witch. Because she’s a girl. Men are wizards, women are witches. Got it?”
“I know what wizards are,” I said. “I just didn’t think they existed.”
“And that from a woman who believes in ghosts,” Jarrett said, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“That’s different. Ghosts are just dead people who can’t accept they’re dead. Wizards are something some writer invented in an office.”
“Just keep telling yourself that,” Jarrett said, shaking his head.
“So what did these ‘wizards’ look like?”
“Well, like wizards,” Uriel said helpfully. “You know, with black robes and stuff, and wands. Oh, and they were all wearing masks and pointy hats.”
“Wizards,” Jarrett said knowingly. “The pointy hats gave them away. And the wands.”
“Just a bunch of people dressed up as wizards,” I insisted stubbornly.
“I don’t think so,” Uriel said, his large flabby face contorted into a frown. “I mean, I’ve worked on all of the Harry Potter movies, and I think I can tell a real wizard from a fake one.”
“You worked on the Harry Potter movies?” Jarrett asked. “As a cleaner, you mean?”
“Oh, no. That’s just this movie. I was Daniel Radcliffe’s butt before.”
“His… butt,” I said dubiously.
“Yeah. Daniel had qualms about showing his naked butt on the screen, so the producers got him a butt double.” He proudly tapped his butt. “Yours truly.”
“I don’t remember seeing Harry Potter’s naked butt in any of the movies,” Jarrett said, sounding disappointed.
“That’s because the director decided not to use my scenes. Harry was supposed to get a needle prick in the butt in the first movie, when he was holed up in the hospital, and then again in the second movie, but they decided to cut those parts.” He gave us a sad face. “They cut all my parts.”
Yeah, that was what the world wanted to see. Harry Potter’s butt. “So let’s get back to those wizards,” I prompted. “What did they want?”
“That’s what I asked them. But then promptly a couple of them grabbed me and held me up. And that’s when I saw him.” His eyes went wide with fear. “The Dark Lord himself.”
“No way!” Jarrett cried excitedly. He was hanging on Uriel’s every word.
I groaned inwardly. This was just too ridiculous. Uriel seemed to believe it, though, for he nodded frantically. “He gave a long speech. Something about wanting to take revenge on mortals—that’s me—and that I didn’t deserve to live.” He swallowed, sweat trickling down his ghostly brow as he relived the ghastly scene. “And that’s when he cast a curse.”
“Avada Kedavra?” Jarrett asked, licking his lips.
Uriel squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shivered at the recollection. “No. It sounded like… Ava Carnivara or something.”
“Perhaps a variation,” Jarrett said.
“And then what?” I asked.
“And then I died.”
I looked at Jarrett. Jarrett looked at me. We both looked at Buckley, who yawned, and then back at Uriel. “You died?” I asked.
“Just like that?” Jarrett added.
“Well, there was a flash of lightning that seemed to leap from the Dark Lord’s wand, and a lot of blue light, and the atmosphere crackled and hummed, and there was a roaring crash of thunder, and then… yeah, then I died. Boom. Dropped dead.” He sighed. “And then they stuffed my body up there and I’ve been trying to catch the attention of those bozos over there ever since.” He gestured at the three lead actors, who were now being interviewed by Reto Slack. “I liked the original actors a lot better,” he said. “These newbies are just plain terrible. Can’t act for crap.”
“That’s what I figured,” Jarrett said, darting a glance at the actor who played Harry. He’d taken off his round glasses and actually looked kinda cute. Very muscular and very big. More like Vin Diesel or Dwayne Johnson.
“Yeah, nobody can beat Daniel Radcliffe,” Uriel said.
Jarrett grinned. “Great butt, huh?”
Uriel patted his own butt. “The best.”
Chapter Three
Uriel drifted off, to go sulk in a corner. Buckley drifted after him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and proceeded to instruct him on the ins and outs of passing on from this plane and onto the next.
“Buckley is turning into a great death coach,” Jarrett said.
“He certainly is.”
We wandered over to the producer, who was tapping furiously on her smartphone, probably sending a missive to her own boss about what was going on. When we drifted into her ken, she didn’t even look up. “So? Is he gone?”
“I don’t think he’ll cause you any more trouble,” I said.
“That’s great. We’re behind schedule as it is.” Then she looked up and gave us a bright smile. She had a nice smile, and I instantly warmed to her. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? I think you deserve it.” She glanced at Jarrett’s T-shirt. It depicted the three grinning faces of the original Harry Potter actors when they were kids. “I take it you’re a fan.”
“Oh, I’m a superfan,” Jarrett said. “So why didn’t you cast the original actors?”
“Because they’re too old?” I said. “Duh. Even I knew that, Jarrett.”
“They’re not too old. They could easily slip back into their parts.”
“It’s not because they’re too old,” Marsha said as she walked us off the Monte Carlo set. “It’s because this movie isn’t part of the original franchise.”
She had Jarrett’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the studio has no intention to make more Harry Potter movies, or Miss Rowling to write more books, so we decided to jump into the hole they created and make our own trilogy—or quadrilogy, pentalogy or whatever the market demands.”
Jarrett looked like a kid who’d been robbed of his lollipop. “So this isn’t a JK Rowling sanctioned installment?”
“Nope. Afraid not.”
“But how is that even possible?”
“One of the uncredited screenwriters on one of the original movies retained the rights to certain aspects of the storyline—probably a clerical error on the part of the studio, mind you—and decided to approach us with an offer to expand on it, and turn it into a new trilogy. There was some legal wrangling with Warner Brothers and the production company but we finally got the go-ahead from the judge to create a spinoff.”
“Rowling mustn’t be happy about this.”
“She’s sore as a gumboil, but at this point she can’t prevent us from proceeding. We brought in two screenwriters from the James Bond franchise, and we’re taking the Harry Potter universe in a completely different direction.”
“What direction?” Jarrett asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see. More fun. More action.”
He arched an eyebrow. “More explosions? More car chases?”
She smiled. “More of everything.” Jarrett winced visibly, but the producer pretended not to notice. “The story will be a retread of Casino Royale, which will give us the opportunity to put a new spin on the tired old Harry Potter concept. We will see a grittier Harry, tougher and more world-weary, while he battles both his own demons and those in the real world.” She gave Harry a wink. “Are you ready to see Harry emerge from the sea, naked torso and six-pack abs and all?”
“Um…”
“I know I am,” said Jarrett, suddenly showing a spark of interest.
“And Harry will have a new love interest, of course,” said Marsha. “More than one, in fact. And Harry will finally kiss Hermione, of course.”
“He will?” I asked, disappointed.
I’d always been on Team Ron.
“You know what would be truly novel and refreshing?” Jarrett asked. “If Harry and Ron got it on. I mean, who wants to see another kissing scene with tired old Hermione?”
“Um, I would,” I said, holding up my hand. “I like Ron and Hermione.”
“Well, I’d like to see Harry and Ron explore their smoldering passion,” he said stubbornly.
“Harry and Ron don’t have any smoldering passion.”
“They do, too. They just don’t want to admit it. Classic.”
Marsha laughed. “Maybe we’ll keep that for a future movie.”
She led us to the next gigantic soundstage, this one where the Hogwarts Great Hall was constructed.
“Wow,” I said, properly impressed. It looked just like in the movies, with the long tables where the houses sat, and the dais for the professors.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Marsha said. “This has cost us a fortune to recreate. Too bad we’ll have to demolish it.”
“Demolish it?” Jarrett asked, aghast.
“Yeah, the bad guy—Frank Riddle—is going to take it out with a missile attack. It’s going to be the opening of our movie. Great, big set piece.”
“Missile? What about magic?” Jarrett asked.
“Nope. No magic in this movie. Rowling owns the right to the magic.”
“No magic?” asked Jarrett, his voice a squeak.
“That’s right. No magic. This will be a non-magic Harry Potter.”
Jarrett gave me a look of despair and I shook my head. A lot of people were going to be disappointed in the new and improved Potter.
The producer led us to the next soundstage, this one where the interior shots of Hogwarts would be taken. The common room. The hallways. The classrooms. Jarrett was perking up again. “Now this is more like it. So Harry is going back to Hogwarts?”
Marsha gave him a frown. “Harry and the others graduated, Jarrett. You as a superfan should know that. No, we’re just going to use these sets to show a new generation being trained as witches and wizards, only to gruesomely die in the attack on the castle.” She waved her hand like a wand. “All these sets will be turned to rubble. It’s going to be awesome. When Harry stands on the ruins, his robe billowing around his bare thighs, he swears a solemn oath to avenge the deaths of these young witches and wizards, and thus the battle begins. Pretty awesome, huh?”
“Very,” Jarrett said, eyes glittering. I wondered if he was thinking about Harry’s bare thighs or the disaster this movie would turn out to be.
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About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 60+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
www.nicsaint.com
Also by Nic Saint
Washington & Jefferson
First Shot
Alice Whitehouse
Spooky Times
Ghosts of London
Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number One
Ghost Save the Queen
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Tale of Two Harrys
The Mysteries of Max
Purrfect Murder
Purrfectly Deadly
Purrfect Revenge
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Purrfect Heat
Charleneland
Deadly Ride
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Witchy Riches
The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse
One Spoonful of Trouble
Two Scoops of Murder
Three Shots of Disaster
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Twist of Wraith
A Touch of Ghost
A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
Standalone Novels
When in Bruges
Once Upon a Spy
The Whiskered Spy
The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Enemy of the Tates
Copyright © 2017 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Chereese Graves.