33
One Year Later
Holly flung herself against Philip’s chest. “He’ll never let me go!”
Philip embraced her, looking down into her eyes with a mix of tenderness and determination. “We can escape—go so far he’ll never be able to find us.”
The door to the room they were in flew open, and a dark-haired man burst in. He pointed dramatically at Philip. “She’s mine—you’ll never have her while I live!”
Philip shifted into snow leopard form and bared his teeth. But before he could spring on her witch, the man held up a piece of paper. “Lightning!”
A blast of lightning crashed down from above, striking Philip. He reared back, clawing at the air—then fell on his side, dead.
Holly went to her knees by him, weeping, but the man grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her away. She managed to wriggle out of his grasp; he let her go, all his attention on his dead rival. “This is what happens when anyone tries to get between me and what’s mine.”
Holly staggered against a desk—then opened its drawer. While her witch gloated over Philip’s body, she pulled out a gun and pointed it at him.
“No—I’ll never let you put me in a cage again.”
The witch turned just in time to see the gun. He flung up his hands, but it was too late. A puff of smoke from the gun barrel, and he clutched his chest, before toppling to the floor beside Philip.
Holly flung away the gun and stood over the two men, her hands clasped in front of her heart. “It’s over.” She turned full-on, her eyes gleaming with tears as the camera closed in on her face. “I’ve lost my only love, thanks to an evil man. Time to fly away…forever.”
She turned into a bird, and the final shot was of her landing on the windowsill for a moment, looking back at the carnage—then faded to black as she took wing.
Applause erupted from the audience as the title card reading The End appeared on the screen. Some of them rose to their feet for a standing ovation, overcome with emotion. Alistair remained seated.
“What did you think?” Sam asked from beside him. Like the rest of them, he’d dressed up for the premiere in a suit from Joel’s new shop. It looked good on him, and more than one camera had flashed his way when they walked inside the theater.
“The scene where she killed her witch wasn’t very realistic,” Alistair said, stretching to get blood back into his limbs. “She would have been overcome with pain when their bond broke.”
“It’s a movie,” Sam reprimanded him. “It’s about emotion, not technicalities. What about the lightning, though? I thought I got it to look pretty real.”
It had taken Sam several weeks of hard work to craft the hex that made it appear as though Philip was being incinerated by a lightning blast, without actually shocking him in the process. “That was fantastic,” Alistair said sincerely. “And the title cards were beautiful—you hand-lettered those?”
The house lights came up, revealing the pleased blush on Sam’s cheeks. “I did.”
“Nice and clear and easy to read,” Alistair said. “And I loved the little bird doodles in the corner. How she was in the cage, then slowly moved out of it as the movie went on.”
“That was Philip’s idea.” Sam ducked his head. “I liked it, though, and Essie agreed.”
“Well, you executed it perfectly.”
The audience was starting to move toward the exits, so Alistair stood up and offered Sam his arm. When they’d come to LA a year ago, Philip had intended to work at the little restaurant they’d managed to acquire by pooling together all their money. But the first moment Essie laid eyes on Philip, she’d said, “I want that face in my films. Can you act? Never mind, I’ll hire a coach if we need to.”
Caged Love was Holly’s third film and Philip’s second. The studio’s schedule was grueling, but every movie was bringing in more cash than the last—Alistair would know, since he worked in the accounting department. Hopefully Caged Love would make the two of them stars.
The lobby was thronged with men in tuxedos and women in gowns. Flashbulbs went off like fireworks as Holly, Philip, and their co-star signed autographs. Behind them, a poster in lurid colors depicted Holly in human form, her knees drawn up to her chest, sitting inside a woman-sized bird cage. “Caged Love,” the poster read. “Her witch kept her in a cage…but could love with another familiar set her free? Starring Holly Savine as May, Brian North as Ben, and Philip Gatti as Julian.”
Doris walked up, dressed in a tux. She’d helped build the sets for several of Essie’s movies; her hands were callused from sawing and hammering, her muscles even more defined than before. “Good turnout,” she remarked.
“It seems to have gone over well,” Alistair agreed. “Shall we go?”
The after-party was being held at the Whisker and Paw Grill, the little joint run by Wanda, Teresa, and Reinhold. It was close to the studio lots, which meant a steady stream of customers looking for an inexpensive but tasty meal. No alcohol served, though they turned a blind eye to anyone bringing their own flasks.
It was a far cry from The Pride, with scuffed pine tables and worn linoleum, the only music coming from a small radio behind the counter. But if Alistair knew Wanda, she was already planning her next move. The grill would do for now, but she’d find a way to parlay it into something bigger.
A sign out front warned potential customers that the restaurant was closed for a private party. They went inside and were greeted with the smell of grilling onions and peppers. A huge cake already sat waiting for the stars’ arrival. There was also a case of bootleg champagne—just this once.
