Keeper of the Shadows

chapter 6



Barrie staggered into the main house, her arms loaded down with bags of microwave popcorn, M&M’s, ice cream bon bons—all her favorite movie foods—plus a bottle of good red wine and the Otherworld DVD. She’d made another spur-of-the-moment stop on the way back to the house for munchies—might as well make work fun—and also called her cousins, requesting an emergency meeting. Luckily both of Rhiannon’s employers were Keepers themselves, though of different districts, and were accommodating of her sometimes unusual schedule. And Sailor didn’t have to be at the House of Illusion, her night job, this week because she’d landed a voice-over gig.

“I’ve got treats, too,” Sailor told Barrie, standing by the butcher-block table in the kitchen and waving a knife. Barrie dumped her bags on a counter and peered over her cousin’s shoulder suspiciously. As usual, Sailor’s idea of treats was not Barrie’s—everything looked morbidly healthy and low-fat and sugar-free: cut-up fruit and vegetables and fat-free dips.

Barrie sighed pointedly, and Sailor leveled the knife at her. “Just because you have the metabolism of a hummingbird...”

Not true, of course, it was just that Barrie often forgot to eat. “I do some of my best thinking on sugar,” she justified, ripping into the M&M’s.

Rhiannon floated in through the back door, her face lit up like a Roman candle, a sure sign she’d just been on the phone with Brodie. Sure enough, the first words out of her mouth were “Brodie can’t make it till later. But he’s looking into everything he can on his end.”

Barrie murmured, “Bless him.” She liked her cousin-in-law-to-be very much, but it was especially useful to have a homicide detective in the family.

How’s that for connected? she said silently in her head, and then realized, unnerved, that she was talking to Mick.

“This is going to be flashback city,” Rhiannon said, reaching for a freshly made bowl of popcorn as Barrie opened the wine.

They trooped into the great room, where Sailor already had a fire blazing atmospherically in the fireplace, and turned off the lights and fired up the Otherworld DVD, then settled in on the couch, like the thirteen-year-olds they had been, for a gory, sexy flashback of a night. Made fifteen years earlier, the film still held up, from the vertiginous, exhilarating swoop of the opening shot to the hazy, erotic, psychedelic underground party scenes, to the thrilling climax on Catalina Island. The story had been written and directed by the werewolf Travis Branson, and it followed the exploits of a young vampire, shape-shifter and Elven, decadent young princes of the Otherworld who topped each other in hedonism and rivalry until they were forced to come of age and join forces to defeat a threat to the underworld kingdom in a supernatural Three Musketeers–like final battle.

All Barrie’s thoughts of Mick Townsend vanished as she gave herself over to the thrills of the film. There were times when the cousins gasped aloud at how close the movie came to revealing secrets that, as Keepers, they were sworn to protect. And they all sighed over the breathtaking beauty of the three stars, each magnetic in his own right but soul-meltingly charismatic together. The cousins shrieked and clutched each other during iconic scenes, like the one in which Johnny Love crawled across the floor toward the screen with deliciously predatory intent, and screamed at the gruesome death by crucifixion of a werewolf who had been captured by the bad guys, sparking off a war.

Barrie could be really cynical about Hollywood in general and actors in particular. After living in L.A. all her life, and being raised by a wannabe-actress mother on top of that, she felt she was entitled to her skepticism. But sometimes movies were just magic, and now she sat in awe over the raw talent of the three young actors.

As she watched Robbie Anderson on-screen, Barrie felt herself transported back to the heartbreaking longing of her teen years. Just the way he moved, with the lithe power of an animal, the way his golden eyes gazed soulfully out of the screen, sent shivers through her body.

But as much as she ached for Robbie, a part of her had to admit Johnny Love was especially incandescent. A phenomenal actor, he seemed to be a completely different person in the final battle when he finally realized and declared where his loyalties lay. As much as Barrie was attracted to the shifter Robbie Anderson, she was left with a powerful draw to the dead young Elven.

The climactic set piece in an abandoned ballroom on Catalina Island was as psychedelically Gothic as anyone could want, ending with the mirrored palace going up in a spectacular inferno.

As the closing credits ran, with haunting music underneath, the cousins sat, stunned and moved.

“Such talent,” Sailor whispered, mesmerized.

“Such a waste,” Barrie said so heatedly the other two jumped in the dark.

“You know, the movie really walked the line on the Other question,” Rhiannon said thoughtfully.

“It crossed the line, if you ask me,” Sailor declared. “The filmmakers thought they were being oh-so-hip but they were playing with hundreds of thousands of lives.”

Barrie and Rhiannon murmured agreement.

“‘Non-disclosure is the first rule of the Otherworld,’” Barrie quoted. “They were all thumbing their noses at the Code.”

“Now I understand why our dads were so upset about the film,” Rhiannon reflected.

“It’s true. It had nothing to do with the sex at all,” Sailor chimed in. Barrie and Rhiannon looked at her. “Okay, it had something to do with the sex. But the politics—yike.”

“I wonder who was the instigator?” Barrie mused. Her cousins both looked at her. “I mean, obviously they got away with what they did in the film. No one stopped the production or the release. So, someone on the film must have been powerful enough that the councils let them do it.”

“The studio itself wouldn’t necessarily know that it was all true, though,” Sailor said.

“Factual,” Rhiannon corrected her absently.

“Based in fact,” Barrie agreed. “But the councils must have known. And the thing is, the writer/director, Travis Branson, and producer, Mayo, were at the beginning of their careers. It’s not like they had all the power they have—had—today. So, why didn’t the councils stop them, or at least pressure Branson to tone it down?”

“Maybe they were flying under the radar,” Sailor suggested. “Sometimes these cult films come out of nowhere and no one expects them to be any kind of success, and then suddenly they take off.” She looked wistful. “It’s what everyone always hopes for. Kind of like winning the lottery.”

“Why do you care who was behind it?” Rhiannon probed.

Barrie frowned. “Harvey Hodge said that Mayo was planning to remake Otherworld.”

“You’re kidding!” Sailor gasped. “I never heard that.”

Barrie pointed at her. “Now, see—you hadn’t heard, either. And the way you pore over the gossip rags—”

“Hey!” her cousin huffed.

“I mean, with your vast insider knowledge of the entertainment industry...” Barrie amended. Sailor looked slightly mollified. “Even you hadn’t heard. So, only really connected people—I mean, the most connected people—knew about the remake. And whoever those people are, some of them weren’t happy about it. At least according to Harvey.”

“Harvey’s dirt is usually gold,” Sailor admitted.

The cousins all nodded agreement.

“So, what are you thinking, Barrie?” Rhiannon prodded.

Barrie looked at her cousins and gathered her thoughts. “I’m thinking there’s a lot of death and destruction associated with this movie. And then, before a remake is even officially in the works, we’ve got two deaths potentially associated with it. So, I’m thinking I’m looking for someone who was associated with the first movie and, for whatever reason, doesn’t want a remake made. Who didn’t want it enough to kill over it.”

Her cousins nodded thoughtfully, then more excitedly.

“I think you’re on to something, Rosalind Barrymore,” Rhiannon said, and for a moment Barrie heard her father in her cousin’s voice.

“So, now what?” Sailor asked.

“So, now I have to find out what really happened during that movie,” Barrie said, resolved.

“Wow,” Sailor said in a hushed voice. “Maybe you can figure out what really happened to Johnny Love.”

“And Robbie Anderson,” Barrie said, and suddenly realized she was about to investigate one of the great mysteries of her childhood.

“And DJ,” Rhiannon added, and both cousins looked at her. “He didn’t come out of all that unscathed,” she pointed out. “Yeah, he’s a star, but did he ever really have a life after the film?”

The other cousins nodded solemnly.

“Maybe it is a cursed film,” Barrie said uneasily.

A silence fell over the candlelit room, suddenly broken by the pop of a log bursting in the fire. All three cousins jumped...and then burst into laughter.

Barrie turned serious again. “The problem is going to be getting close to anyone connected with the film.”

“You know the Pack had their own band...” Rhiannon said reflectively.

“Who could forget?” Sailor started to sing. “‘I’ll follow you to death’s door...meet you on that final shore...’”

As if superstardom in the film arena hadn’t been enough, the three young actors had been packaged into a boy band. They’d recorded a couple of numbers for the film and then, as had been popular for movie stars to do in the nineties, they’d even done some gigs in L.A. and on the road.

Sailor pointed at Rhiannon. “You had a poster up in your room.”

“Guilty as charged,” Rhiannon admitted. “Hey, they were the best eye candy any of us had ever seen. But they did a few gigs in L.A., remember? We couldn’t get in because the shows were all in bars, no one under eighteen admitted, but...”

Sailor and Barrie both caught Rhiannon’s drift in the same instant. “Declan would know them,” Sailor said. Her fiancé owned the underground club known as the Snake Pit and was highly connected in the music scene.

“I don’t know if even Declan could get me in to see DJ,” Barrie said morosely.

“You never know,” Sailor said.

“Do you still have that poster?” Barrie asked Rhiannon with a quickening interest.

Rhiannon shrugged. “It’s probably up in the attic, along with the whole rest of our childhoods. You know how Merlin is about holding on to things.”

Fueled by wine and their own nostalgia, the cousins trooped up the staircase, then up a narrower, rarely used set of stairs to the attic.

Barrie fumbled against the wall for a switch and flicked on the lights. Typical Merlin, the fixtures were designed to look like candelabra, flickering and all, which gave the attic an otherworldly glow. It had a high, sloped roof and dusty floorboards and an amazing collection of junk—or treasure, depending on your point of view.

The cousins turned, looking over the remnants of their often-shared past. Then there were Merlin’s magic equipment, top hats, racks of glittering dresses in thick plastic wardrobe bags. There was also a collection of old-fashioned leather-fastened trunks. As Barrie stepped forward to examine them she saw she was in luck; most were labeled with names. She spotted her father’s, Rhiannon’s father’s, her mother’s....

“Oh, my God, my stuffed animals!” Sailor cried, flinging herself down in front of a trunk.

“Let’s stay focused here,” Rhiannon suggested.

Barrie moved forward in the dim light and saw a pale figure step toward her from a corner. She gasped, pulled back...and then realized she was staring into her own reflection in a cloudy gilt mirror. She laughed shakily.

“Guys, look.”

Barrie turned away from the mirror to see Rhiannon pulling a long paper tube from a trunk. Sailor helped her unroll it...and the Pack of three young actors looked out at them with heated stares. They were in a classic band pose, brandishing instruments as if they were weapons, perfect flesh exposed under artfully ripped clothing.

“It’s probably worth a fortune at a collectibles shop,” Sailor said. “Maybe we can sell it and pay the utilities this month.”

Barrie slugged her in the arm.

“Ow. Kidding.”

“I’m claiming it until I solve the case. For inspiration,” Barrie said.

“Sweetie, if you solve the case you can have it,” Rhiannon told her, and handed it over.

“Yeah, I can’t see Brodie going for hanging that up in the house,” Sailor teased her.

Rhiannon answered automatically, “I don’t see why he’d have any objection to...” She looked more closely at the mouthwatering trio. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.

They all looked at the image of the three actors and were silent.

“It would be freaky-weird if DJ turned out to be a killer,” Sailor said. Rhiannon arched an eyebrow, and the cousins all thought about it. Certainly the star was volatile and unpredictable.

“Or Robbie Anderson,” Barrie said slowly.

The other two looked at her.

“Think about it. Is he dead? Does he know what happened to Johnny? Is he maybe...back?”

The electric candelabra flickered exactly as if there had been a breeze, and Barrie shivered.

“Oh, great,” Sailor said gloomily. “Good luck sleeping tonight.”

Suddenly not so keen on staying up in the spooky attic, the cousins moved quickly for the door.

They descended the stairs in troubled silence. As they reached the balcony, a huge shadow loomed up in front of them and all three screamed.

“Easy, easy,” a resonant and familiar voice soothed, as Brodie McKay, six feet five inches of golden-haired, alpha Elven cop, stepped out of the shadows and smiled at them. “It’s only me.”

“Brodie!” Rhiannon rushed for his arms, and then stopped in her tracks and pushed at his chest, indignant. “You just about scared us to death.”

“I gathered that,” he said, enclosing her in a reassuring embrace. Barrie felt a tug of...not jealousy, she was thrilled for Rhiannon’s happiness and certainly had no designs on Brodie. It was more like a longing, for someone comforting of her own....

And suddenly her thoughts of Mick Townsend were back in full force.

“What have you been up to that’s got you so spooked?” Brodie frowned as he looked from one cousin to another.

Barrie shook her head to banish Mick and unfurled the Pack poster to show Brodie.

“Ah,” he said, and looked troubled. “‘Live fast, die young’ in a nutshell.”

“I’ve been wondering about the LAPD investigation of Johnny Love’s death,” Barrie told him. “Like who was the Elven Keeper of the district and who were the detectives assigned to the case?”

“Before my time,” Brodie said. “I was just starting college. But cases like that one are always a nightmare. You’ve got the Keeper of the deceased’s Kind, the regular cops to massage into seeing things a certain way, and hopefully you have an Other detective embedded deep enough into the appropriate department that all Other-related details are ‘handled’—and all of them working under intense media scrutiny, not to mention intense civilian interest. Deflecting the press alone takes some skilled sleight of hand not to let anything we don’t want out, out.”

Barrie winced just thinking about it. She saw similar looks on her cousins’ faces. “So, who managed it?” she asked. “And what really happened?”

“I’ll ask Alessande who the Elven Keeper was that handled the death,” Sailor offered. It wasn’t information you could get by just searching Google, and though Sailor’s Elven friend looked no older than any of the cousins, Alessande was an Ancient; she would remember the case.

Barrie shot her a grateful look. “That would be fantastic.”

“And I’ll see how it was handled in the LAPD,” Brodie said.

“Do you think you could get the original case files?” Barrie asked.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised her.

“Has the coroner come up with a ruling on Mayo’s death yet?” Barrie had checked her phone. No messages from Brandt, coded or otherwise.

“The ruling is ‘Pending,’” Brodie told her. “Which means the case requires additional investigation. Robbery Homicide has it.” Barrie knew that already. Brodie continued. “I didn’t ask for Mayo’s case—I didn’t know it was going to turn out to be Other-related. But I’ve told Captain Riley that it has to be handled with kid gloves.” Brodie’s captain, Edwin Riley, was one of the few humans trusted by L.A.’s Other community, being the son of a practicing Wiccan high priestess. The community depended on him to steer investigations away from sensitive issues as long as secrecy would not compromise a case.

“It’s a good thing no one has seen the connection,” Barrie said. “Can you imagine the heat the community would be taking if Mayo hadn’t kept his predilection for Others under wraps?”

They all knew a sudden drawing back of the curtain on the Others’ existence would create havoc in both the mortal and Other worlds; Barrie often had nightmarish visions of a mass psychotic break. There was even a word for it in the Otherworld community: the Shattering.

“It’s bad enough that Mayo was so powerful that some Others broke the Code and let him in. And fraternized with him,” Rhiannon said.

“‘Fraternize’ is putting it mildly,” Barrie muttered.

“And it’s a textbook example of why we shouldn’t,” Sailor said vehemently.

Barrie could have talked shop all night, but she could see Brodie and Rhiannon eyeing each other in That Way, so she thanked her cousins for keeping her company, waved good-night to everyone with the rolled-up poster and headed across the patio for her own house.

In her room, just before she got into bed, she tacked the poster up above her bureau and stood looking at the trio of stars.

“Well, boys...talk to me,” she said, and turned out the light.