Smoke and Mirrors by Tanya Huff Page B

Haul ass and tell Brianna you didn’t see a baby.” CB’s “one afternoon only” trumped doors slamming, production assistants making lame excuses, and mysterious crying.
    Lying in this house might be a bad idea, but—in this case—telling an eight-year-old the truth would be a worse one. Hurrying back to the bathroom, Tony really hoped that whatever weirdness was involved here would take that into account.

    â€œHe saw Karl.”
    â€œThat’s unlikely, Cass, no one’s ever seen Karl. They just hear Karl. Even Graham hasn’t seen Karl.”
    â€œ And he wasn’t touching the upper part of the door when he closed it.”
    Stephen stared at his sister and sighed deeply. “You’ve never missed that part of your brain before.”
    â€œWhat?”
    He waved a hand toward the place the ax had hacked through her head. “The living need to touch things to move them; he’s alive, therefore he had to have touched the door. Q.E.D. And where are you going?” he added hurrying to catch up.
    â€œI need to see what’s happening in the bathroom,” she told him without turning.
    She was wafting, not walking, and that was never a good sign. Cassie was usually militant about them maintaining a semblance of physicality lest they forget how flesh worked—he hadn’t seen her so distracted for years. Memories drifted around him. They had no form and less substance, but he didn’t like the way they made him feel, so he hung on to what he knew for certain. “Graham told us to stay out of the bathroom while these people are using it.”
    â€œIt’s our room.”
    â€œWell, yeah, but Graham said . . .”
    â€œGraham doesn’t know what’s going on in here.”
    â€œOf course not, he’s just the caretaker, he couldn’t possibly . . . Cass!” He sighed again, slipped through a bit of the camera operator, and followed her in under the lights.

    â€œBut I want Mason to stay!” Ashley’s protest carried easily over the ambient noise of Mason and Lee pushing past various crew members to emerge out into the hall. “He’s my motivation!”
    â€œThere isn’t room.” Peter’s voice had reached the preternaturally calm stage that seemed to suggest an imminent nervous breakdown—its tonal range so limited it sounded as though it had been Botoxed. “Besides, he’s just out in the hall, watching you on the monitors.”
    To Tony’s surprise, Mason, who’d been heading to his dressing room, stopped, sighed, and returned. Since the words “team player” and Mason Reed had never appeared together previously, the crew and his costar stared at him in some confusion.
    â€œIf we don’t finish today,” he muttered, “they’ll be back.”
    Eyes widened and several heads nodded sagely, reassured that Mason’s motivations remained vested self-interest.
    Lee clapped him on the shoulder and murmured, “Greater love. I’ll go get you a coffee.”
    â€œShe is not in love with me,” Mason growled, looking a little panicked.
    â€œIt’s a quote, big guy. I’ll be back in a minute,” he added to Adam as he turned. “Peter won’t even know I’m gone.”
    The 1AD shrugged. “Just be back when he needs you.”
    â€œI need you . . .” Peter’s direction drifted out into the hall. “. . . to dance around in that circle a few more times pretending that Mason and Lee are still . . . Ashley, don’t turn on the water. Brianna! Don’t touch . . .”
    All things considered, the soft phzt was vaguely anticlimactic.
    Standing behind Sorge’s left shoulder where he’d have a good view of both monitors, the gaffer frowned. “Sounded like a halo lamp going. I’m starting to think the lines in this house are seriously fucked. We should bring in a second generator.”
    â€œAnd