Nero ignored him. His gaze was on the script in Josh’s hand. Then it moved back up to Bing. “This is the Red Wolf origin story, right? The one you were working on when you….” He grimaced as he shot a frustrated look at Walter. “When you joined us?”
Meanwhile, the woman had apparently had enough. “Set me down,” she said sharply. “I can hobble to the van on my own.”
Bing didn’t move to release her. Instead, he began walking to the door. “You are injured—”
“Don’t use me as your shield,” she said, wriggling out of his arms. “Deal with your shit.”
Walter watched to see if there was reluctance on Bing’s face as she began hopping out the door. There was, but he couldn’t tell why. The guy didn’t look especially heartbroken, but then again, how would Walter know? Especially since Bing was keeping his head carefully lowered.
Meanwhile, Nero looked around at the set. “Are you leaving us?” he asked Bing. “You’re acting again?”
That was information, and Walter eagerly leaped upon it. “Who isus?” he pressed. Then he looked at Bing. “What did you join?” By which he meant,What was more important to you than our movie?
Three people answered at once, Nero, Josh, and Bing—all of them speaking as if they’d rehearsed it. “Animal control.”
Okay… that explained nothing. Meanwhile Bing was shaking his head.
“We came here by accident,” he said to the leader. “I have not made any decisions.” There was a tightness in his voice that sounded like panic. It was as if things were rapidly unraveling before him.
Walter could relate. “Enough of the drama,” he snapped as he crossed over to stand directly in front of Nero. Bing was right there too, but he directed his statements to the bigger man because he seemed to be in charge.
“I’m Walter Chen,” he said. “I’m playing Red Wolf, and this is my movie. You’re trespassing right now, and if you don’t want me to call the authorities, you’ll start answering my questions.” Fortunately, some of the staff were returning, including his lone security guard. Walter waved him over.
Nero gave him the once-over, seeming to study Walter but find him lacking. “You can’t be Red Wolf,” he said flatly.
“The hell I—”
“He can,” Bing interrupted. “I released everything to him.”
Nero shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. No one else can play Red Wolf becauseyouare Red Wolf.” He gripped Bing’s arm. “If people start thinking of him as Red Wolf, then what happens to you?”
Bing shrugged. “I will be forgotten.”
“No,” Nero said. “You’ll fade away and eventually disappear entirely. Replaced icons don’t go back to being normal people. They dissolve.”
Bing shook his head. “That does not make sense.”
Nero threw up his hands. “Do you think magic ever makes sense? There can’t be two Red Wolfs. All the fan energy that goes into you will transfer to him.”
Pain lanced through Bing’s expression, but he dipped his chin and spoke clearly. “He deserves it. I abandoned him.”
Walter’s head shot up, relief and validation washing through him. At least Bing acknowledged what he’d done. But there wasn’t time to comment as Nero continued.
“It’s not about right and wrong. It’s about what will happen to you. Whether you realize it or not, energy from your fans sustains you in a very literal sense. It keeps you alive. If that energy goes to him, you’ll dissolve. Like those phantom kangaroos.”
Bing’s eyes widened. Walter’s did too, but probably not for the same reason. “I knew it!” he snapped. “Therewerekangaroos!” It was a small point and completely irrelevant, but he needed that touchstone in this increasingly bizarre scenario.
Nobody paid the least bit of attention to him, but that was okay because Nero shoved Bing toward Walter. “You’re officially off the payroll,” he said loudly, “until you deal with this.”
“How?” Bing asked, but Nero apparently wasn’t going to offer any solutions. He did a quick jerk of his finger at Josh, and the two of them followed the woman outside.
This time Bing was the one left with his mouth open, staring while they all walked away from him.
Karma was a bitch.
Bing turned back to him. Walter crossed his arms and arched a brow. “Ready to talk now?”
Bing nodded, his expression tight. “Yes,” he said with a depressed sigh. “But we have to talk in private.” His gaze took in the returning crew. “We cannot be interrupted or overheard. It’s important.”
“Sure,” Walter said. “This way—” he said, but then he stopped moving.
Shit. Oh, double shit. There was only one place on this cut-cost set that was completely private—one place where no one would interrupt, because Walter had declared it a firing offense if anyone but him and his aunt went in there. He couldn’t let anyone see it or know what he was doing in there. And yet it was the only place where he could be 100 percent sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.
The trailer with the stone egg altar.
