She looked up.
She was in the arms of the executioner.
*
He wasn’t alone in the maze of the Horror-palooza Cave.
Jeremy Highsmith and Cara Barton were with him, running—or floating or whatever it was that they were doing—here and there, down different pathways.
Creatures loomed before him.
Real—as in created to look like human beings.
Not real—as in giant gorilla-type things and swamp lizard men.
He could hear a commotion; things falling.
And then Bridget came flying at him, screaming.
He caught her with his left hand; his Glock was in his right.
“Bridget—”
“French Revolution! Oh, Bryan, she saved me and he got her. My fault, my fault—I thought we could hide in here and now...”
“Get out—I’ll get Marnie.”
He pushed her aside.
He hurried toward the French Revolution, barely breathing, tension making knots of his muscles, fear making his feet seem heavy.
“Marnie!” he screamed her name.
*
Talk.
She’d always heard that you should talk to a killer.
“I don’t understand,” Marnie said. “Okay, okay, you want to kill me. Dramatically. You love all the drama. But I sure as hell don’t get it. You’re on top of the world. And you’ve been so smart about it—hiring people to wear Blood-bone costumes. But now...the convention center is crowded with cops.”
“Yes, but guess who else is here? David Neal. I saw to it. I finagled finances and sent in one damned good attorney. So...well, he is just so obviously a sleazebag!”
“But—you have everything. What do I have to do with anything? Why?” Marnie demanded.
He’d managed to drag her up to the platform. She struggled, but he was bigger and stronger than her.
Bit by bit, he was getting her to the guillotine.
It couldn’t have a real blade—could it?
“Malcolm, why?” she asked again.
“Oh, Marnie. Believe it or not, my last box office was pathetic. My latest is going straight to video. I’m on a downhill slide. That’s why Vince Carlton dared to ask me about a revamp of Dark Harbor. Actually, you see, you were the first intended victim.” He paused before declaring dramatically, “You just can’t get any good help these days!” He shrugged. “So...when they really suck, you just have to get rid of them.”
“But without me, there wouldn’t be Dark Harbor.”
“Precisely. And without Dark Harbor, there would be something called Angel-born. Angel-born—that would be me. Dirk Slade. Macho name, huh? Vince Carlton had it as a backup plan. But he was pretty sure that he could get you to do the show. He really wanted you, even after Cara Barton was killed. I so enjoyed that. I intended to make her go, too, one way or the other, but... Hey. Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans, right? I just wanted a show. A good show. My own show. Okay... I started and then got a little carried away.”
“But Roberta—”
“Is an idiot. She believed that I would really have her as my continuing love interest in Angel-born—once we managed to dash all hopes of a Dark Harbor revamp.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Malcolm said, pausing as he tried to drag her over the guillotine bed. “I might be. But in the right way. Controlled, brilliant. I know the back way out. They’ll arrest David Neal again. I love it. Oh, and Roberta will be dead. She thinks she’s just getting something to cause vomiting... Ah, well! Leading ladies. A dime a dozen, right?”
She tried clawing at him, kicking him. She was strong—and she wanted to live.
But he was stronger. Hell, he spent half his life in a gym.
Despite all her struggles, he was managing to get her over the bed of the guillotine.
“I know these people,” he told her. “Darkest Satan Studios. The guillotine is real, Marnie. They have to have the blades because, you know, they chop off not-real heads with them!”
“You will be caught.”
“Marnie!”
She heard Cara Barton calling out to her.
“Marnie, hang on! Bryan is almost here!”
“Oh, thank God,” Marnie said. She stopped struggling and stared at Malcolm.
“Thank God, what?”
“You’re going to be shot any second.” She could only pray that it would happen before she was dragged another inch, before he could cause the blade to fall.
“You were a star. You—you have everything!”
“Ah, Marnie, don’t you understand? I was a star. A really bright shooting star. And that’s just it. Marnie, I have to be a star. I have to stay on top. I can’t be a comic con has-been!”
He jumped suddenly as if he felt something on his arm.
Cara’s ghost was there. Tugging away at him—to the best of her ghostly ability.
“What the hell?”
“It’s Cara,” Marnie murmured.
“Cara is dead!”
“That’s right. She’s a ghost, Malcolm. She’s there!”
He stopped, jerking at his own arm. Frowning, looking around.
He tried to drag her back on the guillotine.
“Stop it!” Cara screamed.
Malcolm heard her. He whirled around—but he didn’t lose his grip on Marnie.
Bryan burst through the throng of French soldiers.
“Let her go!” he roared. “I will shoot.”
“Hey, it’s just the movies!” Malcolm said, thrusting Marnie violently onto the bed and grabbing the rope for the guillotine.
Bryan didn’t wait.
He shot.
Malcolm Dangerfield fell.
Marnie rolled off the platform just in time.
The guillotine blade whisked through air and thudded into the wood bed.
*
It was well past midnight before they were home.
There was endless paperwork.
There was a trip to the hospital; she had to be checked out.
She learned that Roberta’s stomach had been pumped out in time; she was going to live.
Marnie wasn’t sure how she felt. She was a good person; she should be glad that no one was dead.
She’d heard people say that “they would die for a role” or that they would “kill for a role.”
She had just never imagined that it could be for real.
Everyone had gathered at the hospital.
Vince Carlton was horrified. He told Marnie that he still loved Dark Harbor and would always want to work with her. “But right now,” he told her, “I’m going to do a kid’s movie. I’m going to film in New Zealand. Far, far away.”
She wished him well.
Grayson came in to see her. “I’m sorry for being so selfish,” he told her. “I loved them all—even Roberta. And I’m grateful to be alive. I hope to God I’ve learned.”
She wished him the best, too.
Sophie came with Detective Vining.
Marnie thanked them.
She couldn’t wait to leave.
She couldn’t wait until Bryan had finished with his endless rounds of paperwork.
He finally came to the hospital for her. And they went home.
There, with George to greet her lovingly and Bridget and the whole group of Krewe agents, she thanked them all, thanked them for saving her life.
“Can’t tell you how grateful we are that you’re okay,” Adam Harrison told her. He announced that he’d gotten the Krewe rooms at a local hotel.
Bridget went with them. She was still shaken and wanted to be near protection.
Finally, Marnie took a deep breath in the quiet of her own home.
She turned to Bryan.
“You’ll stay for Jeremy’s funeral, won’t you?” she said.
“Trust me, you don’t know the half of how legal works. I won’t be able to leave for a few weeks,” Bryan said. And then he asked, “You’re...coming with me?”
“I’ve been offered a children’s theater.”
He smiled.
“Yeah, I’m going to start a new job, too. I’ll have to be at the academy awhile, you know.”
“Of course!”
He smoothed back her hair. “You probably need some rest.”
She smiled.
“No. I probably need some you,” she told him.
He was happy to oblige.
Epilogue
The man in seat 19A looked decidedly uncomfortable. As if he kept getting brushed by something in the 777’s air-conditioning system.