As for Bailey Price-of-Fame, he was coming off histracks.Mi trailer is sutrailer, he'd assured Laurie, and he ran inand out of Laurie's whenever he could, but he was uneasy company.When Laurie envisaged him, he saw in his mind's eye a toy man in asnowglobe, glittering fragments of cocaine and prescription drugsswirling round him.He inevitably had a bottle of white rum ortequila secreted about him, and he had a deadly gift for whippingout a pair of shot glasses and sharing the good cheer in such a waythat refusal seemed horribly rude.Laurie had taken Sasha'spoint—God, right down to the depths of his soul—about drivingdrunk, but a hit or two of Bailey's hospitality between breakfastand lunch made the hours pass more quickly, and wore off longbefore he got behind the wheel to go home.It had been nice in away.A friendly face, mercurial chatter, the basic companionship ofsharing resources, even if they were eighty percent proof...Thesethings had been welcome to Laurie, in what felt like the Valley ofthe Ivory Gate Dead.
When Bailey had offered him cocaine, Laurie had suggested theyspend their off-duty time apart.He'd also tried to do the rightthing, which for Laurie meant thinking of what Sasha would havedone, and had begged Bailey earnestly to get himself to acounsellor or rehab before the snowglobe whirled around him anyfaster.Bailey had taken the plea in good part.Thanked Laurie forhis concern—even agreed to leave him alone, for now, anyway.Blood Moonparts one andtwo had been a year each in the making.Laurie had been on set nowfor a week.
Christ,he'd probably end up snorting glue from the technicians' trolleysby the end of a year.Sighing, Laurie sat back on one pristinewhite sofa, trying not to crease his robes.This time thehistorical flashback was to Druid England, Brett having discovereda passion for dressing Laurie up in improbable costumes and pushingthem off his shoulder, or ripping them up one thigh, thusincreasing what he called teen-hormone market hits.
Laurie couldn't get Libby's parting shot out of his head.He'denjoyed the tequila, or at any rate the simultaneous sharpening andblunting of the world it delivered.Colours brighter, anxiety less,and no harm really.But for God's sake, when had he last drunkanything stronger than juice in the middle of the day?It's your buddy Bailey Price who'll bring youdown.Well, Laurie wasn't taking thechance.He had banished him just in case.
Hisreward was grating loneliness.He shifted, stretching out one footto press the leather cushions.He had about fifty books downloadedand ready on his e-reader: he'd better start putting these longempty hours to good use with a little self-improvement.
A pill bottle rolled out from between the cushions and ontothe floor.Laurie scooped it up and read the label.He almostlaughed—maybe Baileywashis bloody nemesis.Prescription tranquillisers,left here by accident or as part of his agenda to get Laurie tojoin in with the fun.These were the US brand of the type Mariellehad taken for years, and to which, as far as he knew, she was stillquietly and completely addicted, her doctors having decided that tobreak her of her habits now would do more harm than good.Lauriehad used to snitch the odd one from her drawers when the oppressiveboredom of the Mayfair house had been weighing him down.
Laurie took them into the kitchen.He put them on a shelf,where he was sure to forget about them soon, or where at least hemight remember to return them to their owner in due course.Thesight of them had filled him with vague cravings, and he opened thefridge—stocked to overflowing with expensive mineral water, fruitand other healthy snacks theBloodMoonproducers hoped their actors wouldthrive on.What Laurie could really have used at that moment waspot of tea, preferably shared with Sasha over fish and chips in arainy Brighton café.
He satdown again.What the hell was Brett playing at today, to keep himwaiting for so long?Restlessness ached in his limbs.A desire tohear Sasha's voice shook him, and he dialled, knowing he'd pick upon first or second ring.
Third,fourth.A fifth, and the line went to his voicemail.Laurie satparalysed, not knowing what to say.
He hung up, and sat with the phone pressed to his lips,staring into space, a displaced fake Druid in an alien world.Allhis reasons deserted him.What was he doing here?What had he done?Even if he wanted to reverse it, now he'd looked at the parts ofhis contract other than the ones he'd insisted on himself, he knewhow tightly tied in he was.Brett even had an option to retain himforBlood Moon Four.
A sharprap at the door made him flinch.Laurie sprang up.Denying Baileyaccess was ridiculous, and made Laurie's situation here moredesolate than it need be.It was up to Laurie's sense andself-control to see that the companionship remainedbenign.
“Good afternoon, Mr Fitzroy.Script and shooting notes fortoday.Can you sign for receipt and your usualundertaking?”
Lauriescrawled his name on the security officer's datapad.Theundertaking was to return the documents intact at the end of theday, and not to reproduce, share or divulge their contents toanyone other than those persons listed, et cetera.The script wasprinted in a hard-to-photocopy red ink, in case temptation got toomuch for him.He nodded at the guard and took the envelope inside.Thank God—a focus, a respite from his vortexing thoughts.He'd trynot to absorb his lines like a starving wolf this time.He knew hisgift for that was odd, a detachment from reality.He would just sitand read them like anyone else, learn them word by word.DevlinSteele had his flaws, but at least he was someone tobe...
***
Lauriestood with Douglas Brett looking out over Stonehenge.Wiltshire andthe surrounding countryside would be screened in later, but thetrilithons themselves were convincing enough to make Laurie wonderuneasily if English Heritage had counted their own lately.Douglaswas beaming in satisfaction.“They're good, aren't they?I thinkwe'll have a hell of a shoot here today.”
“That's what I wanted to talk to you about, sir.Looks like I'mon for three or four whole scenes, but...”He leafed through thescript.“I don't seem to have any lines.”
“That's right.Today we're filming Devlin's reactions to theunseen forces threatening Carmen from the depths of time.Carmenshares a karmic destiny with Devlin, you see.They spent many pastlives together even before she became an immortal.”
This wasthe first Laurie had heard of it.He wondered what Valentine Frostwould make of the news.“I see,” he replied, carefully smoothingout a quiver of amusement.“So you just want me to...react.”
“That's right.Carmen's alone and in peril.Your psychic bondwith her enables you to watch, though you're helpless to saveher.”
“Okay.But if you like, I could imply the unseenforces.”
“What do you mean?”
In thetwenty first century, Carmen was under attack by a vampire-huntingChristian priest who would turn out to be an ancient Babyloniandemon.Babylon itself was under construction on the set next door.The demon would have scarlet eyes, a skull-like face andrazor-edged teeth.Laurie let go his hold on his handsome exteriorself, let the demon enter him and...
“Jesus Christ, no.”Douglas had blanched, taken a step awayfrom him.“What the hell was that?”
“Carmen's demon priest.I can show the army of the undead thatsurrounds her house, too.If you like.”
“No.No.We'll CG all of that in post-production.All you needto do is stand there—we'll have it rain, I think, and a windmachine to blow your robes around a bit—and look brooding.Can youmanage that?”
“Yes, sir.I...hope so.”
“You know, if you're worried about these scenes—especially thegreen-screen work—you ought to speak to Nicole.She'll coach youhow to hold still, how to keep yourself out of the way and leaveroom for our tech guys to do their stuff later on.”
“She'll teach me how not to act?”
Douglasshot him a sharp look.“If you choose to look at it that way, MrFitzroy.”
***
