* * *
It was playing out beautifully, as if it had all been rehearsed. Here, Actors’ Row, the lineup...a dog, an old dude from some mostly forgotten weekly flick...and then...
Yes, them. The cast from Dark Harbor.
And it was coming closer and closer...
He could feel it.
He didn’t know exactly when, and he hadn’t known that he would feel this...exhilarated!
But it was alive, kinetic...wired! With anticipation.
Yes, it was coming...
Soon. So soon. He could almost taste it on the air.
* * *
For Cara, there hadn’t been a lot of great offers to follow the lamented demise of Dark Harbor. A few little bits, guest star gigs, here and there. Her agent tried her best.
But when no decent acting offers were forthcoming, there were always conventions. And there had been talk—just a rumor so far—that there might be a Dark Harbor reunion show. A producer had apparently been a huge fan and now wanted to bring them back.
So far, though, none of the core actors had been approached. Or so they all claimed.
It was still just speculation. And she didn’t dare believe the rumor—it was too painful. But then again, she had seen a tall guy with a superhero T-shirt under his blazer walking around, watching them all. Someone had said he was Vince Carlton, a cable show producer and director.
The money from a reboot might not be huge. Still, Cara’s agent had mentioned a call that suggested such a thing might be possible—if so, was she willing?
Of course!
Anything would be better than eight-by-ten-picture money.
But it would all be too depressing to believe that it might happen—and then have their hopes dashed on the rocks of Hollywood capriciousness.
For now, fan conventions and picture sales were important.
Thankfully—for Cara and the rest of the cast—there was Marnie. She was like the best kid in the family, the one who looked after and took care of her siblings. She would always make the group complete and show up when needed, helping them all survive the torment of comic cons.
There had been five main players in the series. Cara had been the matriarch of the supernatural family, and still, she’d admit, was the least of the five characters.
But Marnie’s role—that of Madam Zeta—had become beloved, and her character was now a classic. Therefore Marnie was the most important person in their group.
And sometimes they weren’t invited—or offered any kind of prime slots—unless Marnie agreed she would be with them.
The show had ended five years ago.
Their days in the sun seemed to be over.
Sometimes, Cara wasn’t sure if she was more bitter toward the no-name Blood-bones of the world, the Malcolm Dangerfields—with their hundred dollars a pop for a photo—or Marnie, who would always just take her damned lemons and make lemonade.
No! Cara thought. Once again, she wasn’t being fair to herself.
Not fair. She loved Marnie. The woman couldn’t help being gracious and elegant and kind. She was blessed with a sweeping headful of burnished brown hair and bright blue-green eyes, legs that were certainly what men considered to be wickedly long and a patrician face with perfect features. She was also quick to smile, quick to sympathize and ready to help out. It was her presence here that had allowed them to sell many pictures. Madam Zeta had been the darling of the show. And Cara knew that while she loved Marnie, she was envious, as well. None of Marnie’s fault—she was simply still young, and Cara was not.
She realized she was staring at Marnie, who looked back at her curiously.
“I’m not a bad person, am I?” Cara asked her.
“Of course not! You can be a bit Hollywood jaded, but hey, we’re in Hollywood. That’s to be expected,” Marnie assured her with a shrug and a grin.
“Madam Zeta, Madam Zeta, Madam Zeta!” Someone was screaming again, racing up to the Dark Harbor booth.
It was a man, tall, gangly and blond and fairly good-looking; when he called out, a few other people turned away from the Blood-bone character on the floor and paid attention to the little group of five in the Dark Harbor booth.
“Oh, cool! It’s the whole cast!” someone else cried.
And suddenly, Comic Con was good. People had heard. Lots of people were looking at the booth with real interest.
Fans began to come up, and before Cara knew it, they were all signing the best cast picture they had. It featured Marnie as Madam Scarlet Zeta, the family psychic with superhuman strength, who also earned them what they needed to keep up their decaying mansion and most often ferreted out the deadly creatures in Dark Harbor. On each side of Marnie, the rest of the cast was gathered: Roberta Alan as Marnie’s older sister, Sonia Zeta, the family member granted the power of cloaking those around her; Grayson Adair playing Nathan Zeta, brother of Scarlet and Sonia, the family member gifted with ability to freeze vampires; Jeremy Highsmith as Theodore, patriarch of the family and the bearer of the legacy that allowed the family to fight off evil and protect the town.
Also, of course, there was Cara herself, as Elizabeth, the dignified and elegant matriarch, caring mother, ever aware that her children met far too much danger, and ever ready to give her life for theirs.
They had that one photo that could be pretty damned hot—that family photo. When it was signed by all of them, it sometimes became a collectible item—sold on internet auction sites to overseas fans for more than they ever got for it. That photo often kept a roof over Cara’s head. It was their priciest at fifty dollars, whether they were all in attendance at an event or not. It was up to the buyer to hunt down the rest of the cast if they wanted the complete set of signatures.
And they were all there that day. Now the ball was rolling!
They could sell hundreds.
Naturally, it was that one that young, tall and good-looking man wanted, except that he also wanted a few solos of Marnie—though none of the others. She always chatted and tried to get people to buy more, but it didn’t even matter that they weren’t buying more.
The young man had started an influx of people. They were buying the cast photo.
“Madam Zeta! Mrs. Elizabeth—all of you! Amazing,” the young man said.
“Marnie Davante,” Marnie said, smiling and taking the young man’s hand. “And you’re...?”
Who cares? Cara wondered. Just sell him a picture.
“David Neal,” the young man said. “We actually have an appointment next week.”
“Oh?”
“Stage managing position,” he replied.
“Oh, wonderful!” she said enthusiastically.
“Marnie does love kids,” Cara put in.
Jeremy Highsmith—on Marnie’s other side—cleared his throat. “I think we have a bit of a line forming.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like—” Marnie began.
“The cast picture,” David Neal said.
* * *
So close... So close... He could stand there and smile, anticipate and nearly smell and feel and taste it in the air...
Blood...
Death...
The drama and horror were almost unbearable.
* * *
Cara was in heaven. So many people.
They were signing the “family” photo when the Blood-bone character came swinging his way toward their booth, cape flying behind him, mask in place and sword streaking colors through the air.
He wielded the sword well, as if he’d had training in swordplay. Well, many actors had.
He wielded it straight to the booth.
He pushed past some of the fans, and they all laughed, of course. It looked like it was a bit of impromptu theater.
Blood-bone pointed at Marnie. She rose from her chair and pointed at hi
m, playing along.
“Be gone, Blood-bone. You may play your evil games in your show, but you may not come back to threaten ours!”
Blood-bone swaggered toward Marnie, his lighted sword swirling almost hypnotically.
“You won’t get past me!” Marnie told him.
He kept coming. So many people were watching!
Cara leaped up by Marnie. She set her arm around the woman’s shoulders.
“Don’t you dare come for my precious daughter!” she cried.
There was no way that she wasn’t getting some attention and play out of this. Who knew who might be out there? Another job could be on the line. That producer could see how dedicated they were.
“I know his every evil thought! He will never get by us!” Marnie cried. She was grinning, and that smile of hers seemed to draw an even larger crowd. Yes, it was all play.
All fun.
And Cara had to get in on it, big-time.
“Indeed, we will smite you. I warn you again—touch my daughter, you evil thing, and we will see that you rot in hell forever!”
The Blood-bone character looked at her. She could have sworn that beneath the black mask, the man smiled.
He raised his sword...
Cara pushed past Marnie.
“Don’t you dare!”
But his sword was poised.
And it came down. Again and again.
Cara really didn’t know what hit her. At first, there was nothing, and then there was an incredible burst of pain. The kind of pain that brought brilliant stars bursting before her eyes, that brought a sea of darkness, black sweeping away the tiny bursts of light...
She gasped.
She felt something trickling on her.
Felt herself falling...
She heard Marnie scream, felt Marnie’s arms go around her.
Theater, it was all theater, all show...
But it wasn’t.
Blood-bone was gone, swooping his way back into the crowd.
Cara was bleeding; her grasp on Marnie was weakening.
“No, no, no, stay with me, Cara. I love you, my friend, stay with me,” Marnie ordered.
But Cara knew that she could not.
Comic Con. It was a comic convention.
And Cara had just never imagined that—for her, at least—she could be so very right.
That it could be, quite literally, where old stars came to die!
1
Bryan McFadden could always feel her, of course. As soon as she decided to grace him with her presence.
Yes.
She was there again.
Watching him, his every move.
He pretended that he didn’t see her. He also did his best to hide a smile.
She wanted something, of course. Or he was due for a lecture, a long litany on how to live his life.
He’d been splitting logs outside his cabin when he’d first become aware that she was there; he continued to chop firewood. If she was going to haunt him because she wanted something, she was bloody well going to have to do so with more than a bunch of her dramatic sighs.
He paused for a moment; the sun was riding in the sky on a beautiful day. The mountains and valleys of Virginia were, in Bryan’s mind, the most beautiful places in the world to be. Here, right at the base of the Shenandoah Mountain, he could enjoy both.
This place had been—as long as he could remember—a haven. He and his brothers, Bruce and Brodie, had always been able to go a little wild out here. They’d never been bad kids, but they had been full of energy and ready to run, climb, fish, swim and love the rugged beauty of the land.
The family cabin was just a weekend retreat.
Home was DC, near the National Theatre, a half-dozen other theaters and easy access to the casting agents who were closer to their parents—Hamish and Maeve McFadden—than any blood relative might expect to be.
Though he and his brothers had long ago left their boyhoods behind, they had managed to stay in the same basic area. And, mainly because each of them had joined a branch of the service—Bryan, the navy; Bruce, the marines; and Brodie, the army—they had maintained the manor house close to a river in Northern Virginia where they had actually grown up.
He was heading back there in the morning. His time here—used to reflect on his choices regarding the future—was at an end. He wasn’t sure he was feeling more certain any one course was right above the others. Bruce and Brodie were coming in the following week; it was time for them to really decide what they were going to do.
As kids, they had quarreled and squabbled. Tumbled on the ground and tussled now and then—and stood ferociously against anyone who insulted one of them or dared to speak ill of their parents.
But life had gotten hard—and made them close.
They were all pretty sure they could work together; they’d talk it out for the final decision in the weeks to come.
Of course, she was still watching him. Still waiting for a response.
She sighed again. Maeve McFadden was certainly an example of the word diva. Not so much in a bad way—she had an ego, but not the kind with which to hurt others. She was passionate, she was demonstrative; she didn’t just “talk with her hands,” she talked with her arms, with her whole body.
But if she wanted something now, she was going to have to talk to him.
With words.
Finally, she did. She rather wafted over and leaned against the wood rail fence that surrounded the little cabin and the area with the chopping block where he was working.
“Bryan McFadden, you’re ignoring me!” She pouted.
“And it’s not working, eh?” he asked, but he smiled at her—she was his mom, and he did love her.
She smiled back and then plunged right in.
“Her name is Marnie, and she really needs help. My friend Cara—Cara Barton, I know you must remember her. She was one of the stars of that yummy vampire show, Dark Harbor, and before that, we were both way younger and in a Christmas romantic comedy together. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is this—Cara was tragically cut down. And now Marnie needs your help. I’m not sure she knows it yet, but Cara has told me. And poor Cara! She’s dead. Most horrifically and dreadfully dead.”
“Mother—”
“Don’t you dare tell me that dead is dead—dreadful or otherwise. She was murdered. Viciously murdered by a sword-wielding villain. Well, someone in a costume. But... Oh, Bryan. It was horrid, quite horrid—you must have heard about it on TV or in the news online!”
“Nope,” he told his mother.
“How could you have missed the news?” Maeve demanded. “Oh, I do hate to say it, but Cara is far more famous now in death than she was in life.”
“I come out here to enjoy the mountains and scenery, Mom. Not watch TV.”
“The news would be on your phone.”
“News is on anywhere, Mother, if you look for it.”
“All right then, I’ll tell you about it. Comic Con—West Hollywood.”
“I thought the big comic cons were in San Diego. Maybe New York.”
“Comic cons are all the rage—they are cropping up everywhere,” Maeve informed him. “And this—Oh, son... Horrible, horrible, horrible. Cara was my good friend. Okay, so imagine this. The cast of Dark Harbor is lined up at a booth. People are flocking over to them for signed pictures. There’s a Blood-bone character whipping his sword around—at first, all to the delight of the crowd. Then he walks up to the Dark Harbor cast booth and starts off as if he’s performing with them—and then he brought his sword down, slashing poor Cara to death, right across her throat!”
“In the middle of a crowd of people, some costumed character slashes a woman to death and walks away?” Bryan demanded, incredulous.
“Well, that’s just it. People th
ought it was a performance. Cara fell dead, the others began to realize it—people were clapping, thinking it was just an impromptu show done very well. Blood-bone walked off... The cast began to scream. Cops came, but by then, the killer was gone. From what I understand, it was a zoo.”
“But no one noticed a masked man in costume?”
“Well, of course, they did. They gathered up at least twenty Blood-bones—you know, conference attendees in Blood-bone costumes—but they don’t believe that the killer was any of the men, or the one woman, with whom they spoke. They couldn’t find a Blood-bone with actual blood on him or a lighted sword that was really a sword. Don’t you understand? Someone is going to get away with this. Bryan, you have to do something.”
“Mom, at the moment, I’m not a cop.”
“Don’t be silly, darling, I know that. And if you had stayed on the force, you’d be a Virginia cop, anyway. However, you did get your PI license.”
“Yes, I did.”
“So you need to get out to California and help Marnie Davante. Please.”
“Mom, you know that I’m supposed to be meeting with your other sons next week. They’ll be back by then.”
“I know where they are,” Maeve said indignantly. “Brodie took a temp job as a bodyguard for that chain store CEO, and he’s still in China somewhere. Bruce was helping out a friend who is with the Texas Rangers.”
“Right. But we’re due to get together and decide if we do want to form an investigation company.”
“That would be in the near future. You need to help Marnie now.”
“Mom, I have no ins with the West Hollywood Police or even the California State Police. I’m sure they would resent—”
“Please.”
“Mom, again, I’m not in Hollywood. I’m sure there are very capable police out there. Your friend isn’t being threatened—she’s already dead. I’m not sure—”
“It’s Marnie! Cara is terribly worried about Marnie.”
Bryan stopped pretending that he could continue chopping wood. He leaned on the ax and looked at the ghost of his mother.
“Does Marnie know that she needs my help?”
“How could she?”
“Come on then, what do you want out of me?”