Chapter Ten

Fly free little bird

T he vamps agreed with her evening plans.

Of course they did. Ravyn made a mental note to talk once again to Bash about their unprofessional deference to her. The point of security was to make the hard decisions and to tell her “No” when needed. They either didn’t have it in them or were so sure of their vampire abilities to keep her safe, they were willing to ignore all other security protocols.

Sloppy and irresponsible. Clearly it worked in her favor today, and despite the guilty feeling she had at taking advantage of the situation, Ravyn eagerly squished it down to finally prepare for an evening out.

Dressed in a simple black sheath dress that hit just at her knees, Ravyn twisted her dark hair into an elegant bun, securing it with a blue lotus clip with silver claws before touching up her lipstick. A small, intimate gathering was what Bertrando Roland had suggested, a chance to get together, relax, chat, and see how well they might work together. Three guards would accompany her, one as her driver and two following in a separate vehicle. Roland’s secluded mountainside home, as well as it being an intimate gathering place, wouldn’t permit two or more random men to wander about undercover. It was better to be straightforward with her need for heightened security. And if the wolves returned from their time away before she and the others returned home, they could patrol the outside of the grounds.

Final pieces in place, Ravyn stepped into her lounge area just as Toby wandered in, freshly showered with wet hair combed back, eating from a party-size bag of chips. His low, wolfish whistle of appreciate pleased her, and she ignored the dark, glowering look her driver gave him as the vampire stood stoically by the door awaiting her.

Giving a slow twirl, with a pleased smile, she asked, “You like? I’m not always in grubby sweat pants and lounge wear, you know.”

Toby nodded, brushing a few chips off his tee-shirt before swallowing the ones in his mouth. “You look great. Got plans for tonight?”

“I do.” Not intentionally vague, but a bit cautious about his earlier-than-expected appearance. Admittedly, she’d lost track of time while reading the scripts. “You’re back early? Is everyone here?” she inquired, although honestly, she only cared about one person.

That person’s name went unspoken, along with a flash of both guilt and excitement. Part of her jumped at seeing her... her… whatever Bash might be defined as, but the other part immediately considered that he would squash her plans to venture out tonight to an unseen location. Her paramour? “Paramour” sounded more involved than “lover” and not as committed as “mate.” Since when did labels matter so much to her? Were they anything?

“Nah, I came back earlier with one of the guys who wanted to get back and spend some time with his girl. Bash and some of them always hang back and decompress for a few extra hours, but I like to get back and do my own decompressing.”

It took a second for Ravyn to recognize the unfamiliar feeling settling into place. Hurt. She was hurt. Bash could have been back already, but he chose to stay away from her for a few extra hours. He hadn’t chosen to immediately return to her side. Apparently, no matter how old she got or how many lovers she took, she still found herself susceptible to hurt and jealousy. Ridiculous. And wildly embarrassing. Bash wasn’t really to blame. She’d told him one night; insisted upon it, in fact. But then it just felt different. She’d changed the rules and it wasn’t fair to expect him to know that.

“I’m going out to a small, informal gathering.” Glancing at the frozen-faced vamp by the door, she made a decision. “Want to be my date? Or do you still need time to decompress?”

“What… really?” Toby spit a few chips out in his haste to answer. “I mean sure, if you want me on your detail.” His chest puffed up a bit, before deflating as he looked at her outfit as well as her well-dressed driver. “I’ll need to change, and I don’t have anything too fancy.” He waved a chip-laden hand in her direction in explanation.

“Pfft, you’re young. You can wear a band tee-shirt, hoodie, or jeans and easily pull off edgy, as long as it’s clean,” Ravyn said, noticing that his current tee not only bore chip crumbs, but a few other stains.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Toby reassured her eagerly. “Can you give me, like, five minutes?”

“Take ten,” Ravyn offered with a wave of her hand as he scuttled toward the door.

The black wrought-iron gates loomed high over the car and disappeared on either side into a densely forested area. Ravyn wondered if they enclosed the entire estate or if they were simply for show and ended a few feet into the tree line. If Mr. Roland valued his privacy and security, they would continue on, guaranteeing to keep possibly anyone or anything out. Of course, even at that height, they were no match for a vampire or wolf shifter. Before her driver could push the call button, the gates smoothly opened, as if the guards inside were watching and waiting for guests’ arrival. They closed smoothly

and quickly as soon as the car’s rear bumper cleared the gate.

“Fancy,” Toby murmured in appreciation, his wide eyes, so similar to his uncle’s, flickering back and forth, taking in the tall fencing that did seem to expand well past the drive into the underbrush, as well as the guards’ shack with its darkened windows.

Ravyn found herself nodding in agreement. Bertrando Roland took his security seriously, nearly as seriously as Bash did and that, of course, was only what they could see. The unseen security could be equally as impressive or completely non-existent.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so eager to work with this guy. He probably needs you more then you need him. I mean, everyone knows who you are. Him, I’ve never heard of.”

Ravyn considered his words as well as her answer. “Yes, while I’m popular enough here and now, Land and Sea Cinema makes timeless, classic works. The work I’m doing now is similar to fast fashion: here today, gone tomorrow. Maybe it will stick around longer, maybe it won’t. But Mr. Roland’s work could be considered similar to a timeless suit. It has a much higher likelihood of being held onto and viewed long-term.”

The young wolf’s blank stare had Ravyn reconsidering the fashion metaphor. “Or just trust me, it’s a good career move. And I would be part of telling the story of Giulia Tofana.”

That was at least met with a grunt of acknowledgment, if not understanding. He didn’t understand. Long after the actress Ravyn Sinclair was gone, the story would stand. This might be her chance to make a mark that would outlive her current lifetime, a mark that she herself might see decades in the future.

Her driver opened the window and gruffly informed the approaching guards that another car with Ms. Sinclair’s private security followed about sixty seconds behind and would require entry.

“Of course,” the tall, thin, angular guard agreed, without actually making a move back toward the gatehouse. “We will need you to park your car down here in the side lot. Ms. Sinclair will be taken by cart toward the main house. Mr. Roland doesn’t allow vehicles too close to the house; it scares the wildlife.”

The vamp shifted in his seat, prepared to argue, but the guard smoothly added, “Of course, you and your men will be immediately taken up after we’ve secured your vehicles. No point in making either Mr. Roland or Ms. Sinclair wait on the help.”

Ravyn cringed at the “help” comment. However, she recognized that the man had a strange way of pronouncing certain words and sounds, as if his tongue didn’t quite want to cooperate—or maybe it was an unrecognizable accent. Perhaps something didn’t translate well between languages.

“That’s perfectly fine. My date will accompany me now, though; no need for both of them to park a car. It certainly doesn’t take two to do that.” Ravyn added just a touch of coercion to her voice, willing to push more into it, but the guard seemed to willingly accept her option.

“Certainly.” He smoothly opened the door for Ravyn before gesturing toward a golf cart hidden beside the gate. Glancing at the gate where the second car had pulled up and idled, he added, “It seems the gate isn’t opening correctly. We have reset it, and if that doesn’t work, we can manually open it to allow your remaining security through. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

His monotone didn’t actually sound very apologetic, but maybe this was a regular occurrence that merely annoyed the man. Two other lanky men stepped out of the guard house, their torsos and arms incredibly long, similar to the guard who had greeted them. One went to slide into the driver’s seat of the golf cart, while Ravyn was escorted to the passenger seat and a strangely quiet Toby slid into the seat directly behind her.

The ride uphill took several moments and, after attempting unsuccessfully to engage either the driver or Toby in conversation, Ravyn simply enjoyed the scenery, watching as they passed a few more guards standing stiffly alongside the driveway. Tall trees grew into a natural tunnel over the paved single-lane roadway, and the twists and turns along the route hid the house from view. After several quiet moments, they finally stopped in front of a house with tall, tinted windows and natural stucco siding; a beautiful house that fit perfectly in the still wooded area. No yard to speak of, just the paved drive and pathways under the dense trees which filtered out most of the sunlight, leaving the forest floor bare around the home.

Still not speaking, the guard remained motionless as the two passengers exited the vehicle with a thanks that he appeared not to notice. He spun the vehicle around and headed, presumably, back to the front gate, driving at a quicker pace.

“Shall we?” Ravyn asked a still quiet Toby, who hesitantly followed her.

“I don’t like this,” he whispered. “Something just seems off, odd. Both of us agree, something is terribly off here.” Toby glanced warily around, looking for any apparent danger.

“Both of us” clearly referred to his wolf, and while Ravyn could agree the place seemed a bit odd, she couldn’t say that anything screamed “danger” or “stay away.” In fact, it was very inviting to her. She didn’t want to embarrass Toby, but perhaps he and his wolf were a bit uncertain about entering a Hollywood party. It could be overwhelming, especially if you weren’t used to such things. Coming off the full moon could be very emotionally charged as well. The combination of the two events was bound to cause some confusion.

Pulling his arm into her, she leaned into the lanky wolf shifter. “It’s really just a small gathering where we’re going to get to know a few people and see if a new project is a good fit for me and vice versa. Very low key, I promise.” She gave his arm what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

Toby was nearly as tall as his uncle and, most likely, his father had been tall as well. In a few years, he would stop growing, start filling out more, and he would certainly rival his uncle in looks. With a maternal feeling, she smoothed a wayward curl down on his head as he still rather reluctantly kept pace with her.

The door opened before they had a chance to knock. Ravyn stepped slightly in front of the young wolf as he attempted to do the same to her. Ravyn deferred to his movement, knowing his wolf’s protective instinct might take offense if she placed herself first.

“Welcome, Ms. Sinclair. Welcome to my home,” the jovial voice boomed from the man who opened the door. Similar to the guards, he stood tall and lanky, his limbs seemingly awkward and long, but his toothy smile was a sharp contrast to the impassive guards’ dour expressions. His silver-and-dark peppered hair, parted severely on one side, looked freshly cut around his ears and neckline. As with many in Hollywood, few wrinkles marred his face, the skin pulled unnaturally tight and unmoving, despite the open and eager smile that filled it ear to ear.

“Please, Mr. Roland, call me Ravyn. It’s so delightful to meet you. I’ve been traveling and unaware that you’ve been trying to meet with me,” she lied, covering that fact that she’d been in hiding.

“The pleasure is all mine, and you must call me Bertrando, or even Bert, as many of my friends do.” Again, a strange accent or perhaps a speech impediment marred his smooth, welcoming words.

Extending her hand in greeting, expecting him to grasp it and shake heartily as was so often the case when meeting new people, especially men, Rayvn was a bit surprised as he gently, almost reverently, grasped her hand between both of his. Holding it a bit longer than necessary for a greeting, his long fingers carefully rubbed her hand as if attempting to warm them up. Carefully, she began extracting her hand before Bertrando seemed willing to do so.

After a long second, he did—albeit reluctantly—release her hand, before turning his attention to Toby.

“And who is your handsome young escort?” he questioned, not sounding condescending like some might with an extra uninvited guest, but truly interested.

“This is Tobias Moldover; he was kind enough to escort me this evening.” Ravyn smoothly made introductions, while feeling the uncomfortable waves rolling off the still silent Toby. Neither man attempted to shake hands, and Toby nodded curtly, while the other man welcomed him into his home as well.

“You have a beautiful home.” It wasn’t a lie; the place was amazing. Armor and weaponry from different times and different places around the world decorated the space, as well as artwork depicting battles between monsters and heroes, devils and angels, and good and evil. High ceilings and dark woodwork emphasized its grandeur. Their footsteps echoed on the ceramic tiles as they walked. It was a little large for Ravyn’s personal taste—she preferred cozier and homey—but an amazing design nonetheless.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me that you find it so.” Bert settled them down in a lounge area before offering them drinks. A wisp of a woman in dark clothing seemingly appeared out of nowhere, settling a glass of red wine at Ravyn’s elbow and passing what Ravyn assumed to be a soda to Toby, who examined it carefully before drinking deeply from the glass. After a transformation, the shifters were always thirsty and hungry, especially after the three-day moon requirement.

“I’m afraid I may have misunderstood your invitation,” Ravyn admitted before taking a sip of the dark wine. By the goddess it was good; spicy with a warmth that exploded gently in her mouth. She nearly forgot she was speaking. At Bertrando’s questioning look, she righted herself. “I thought there would be others involved in the work here tonight.”

“Ah, Ravyn I did say intimate, but yes, I do have a few others who will be joining us later.” Again that smile from ear to ear, a bit off-putting as it stretched the skin tightly, drawing it thin. “I feel like I already know you, but at the same time I wanted a chance for us to get to know each other a bit more outside of the work. What makes you tick and all that. To see the real you and how you can make Giulia Tofana come to life, or even more than that—how you will be able to embody her.

“So, darling, tell me: has Ravyn Sinclair ever killed a man?”

Ravyn nearly choked on her wine. What was he asking?

At her shocked look, he offered, “I jest, I jest. Surely, you won’t need to kill a man to get inside Giulia’s mind. But you’re a beautiful woman who must have seen what men can do to those they find powerless.”

Nodding her understanding, Ravyn sipped more wine, allowing it to warm her through. This she could understand; gatherings, no matter how intimate they claimed to be, were also a time to don a mask of sorts. Everyone did it no matter how hard they tried not to.

Clearing her throat, she forced herself to say the words that might get her removed from the project. “I’m not sure if you know or have been told, but I suffer from a severe sun allergy.”

“Pfft, I heard you suffered from an infliction. Causes a rash or something?” With a wave of his hand, Bertrando brushed aside her concerns. “Most scenes are in the shadows; poor form to be setting up poisoning and murder in full daylight, although my conniving Giulia will be a beacon of light, a vessel of hope for these poor trapped souls. It will be her—or hopefully, you—who is the shining light on the set.” He grew more animated as he spoke, punctuating each word with a jab of his hand and, in some cases, both hands.

“Tell me, Ms. Sinclair: does Giulia read like a cold-blooded murderess or a heroine taking up a fight for the fairer sex?”

“I would like to imagine a heroine,” Ravyn admitted, “but I can also question if a serial poisoner must have some murderous qualities about her.”

Bertrando Roland frowned as if the answer irritated him. “But how can one be both? To murder is a sin, is it not, no matter the reason? I mean, I could hardly imagine you murdering someone. Because we don’t want beautiful people to be evil. It almost makes it worse that these women came to her for help and were drawn in by her beauty. Did they ask themselves if they were committing a sin? Was it a crime? They say Giulia’s beauty made her trustworthy. Did they trust that it couldn’t be a sin because of her beauty?”

Ravyn shifted in her seat before smoothly meeting the man’s eyes. “Those are important questions. It has been claimed that before Lucifer fell, he was the most beautiful of the angels. So, the reverse could be true, that her beauty alone was already a crime. A sin against nature. Perhaps knowing that she was already deemed by the Church to be a sinner just for existing, how could she not help women the Church and kingdom sided against?”

“How was your drive up? Any difficulty finding the place?”

The abrupt change of subject gave Ravyn pause. Apparently, they were finished talking business, at least for now. Rich men in the movie industry could be odd, as odd as they wanted and the rest of the industry just pivoted with them. Talking points and jumping around kept their audience on their toes.

Ravyn finished her glass of wine, surprised to notice it was all gone. Before the evening wrapped up, she absolutely needed to find out what this vintage was. The wisp of a woman quickly swiped the empty glass away and replaced it with another full one before disappearing into the background once more with a short nod to Bertrando and her. There, but not there, the woman managed to stay just in Ravyn’s peripheral vision. Her long, free hair hung in front of her face, hiding her features even when Ravyn attempted to subtly track her. Long, bell sleeves covered her hands even when she was quickly refreshing their drinks. Her dark navy shift hid her body but, in turn, apparently allowed her to move quickly and quietly about the room, mostly keeping her back to the group.

Still chatting and sipping her second glass, Ravyn briefly realized that the remaining of her security detail hadn’t joined them yet. In fact, none of them had, not even her driver who had accompanied them inside the grounds. Concern for the men disappeared as quickly as it had popped into her mind. All was well; of course, it was.

A side glance at Toby showed the boy about to fall asleep. Clearly, the last few days of chasing the moon had taken a toll on him, but the producer didn’t seem to be concerned about what could be considered rudeness on the young man’s part. Ravyn blinked slowly as Toby came in and out of focus for a moment. Shaking her head cleared the fog that seemed to settle over her. Odd.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised you reached out to me,” Ravyn admitted, “and honored that you know my work and would consider me for Giulia. And that script… Seriously, that script is amazing.”

“I knew we had something special when I was approached with it.” Leaning back, he spread apart his lanky legs while gesturing toward her with his long hands. “But truly, it was written for you. I think you embody the spirit of Giulia. I think everything you have done up until now has prepared you for this role. Don’t you agree?” he questioned, his intense look never leaving her face. Apparently, he needed an immediate answer.

“Certainly. I certainly hope so,” Ravyn demurely agreed, setting down her glass once again.

A quick, sharp nod from the producer had the wispy woman gliding over once again, this time topping the glass off before pressing it back into Ravyn’s hands. For a moment, his intense gaze left Ravyn as he glanced toward the woman’s retreating back.

“Do you like the wine? When I tried it, I felt like it would be perfect for you.” Again, the intensity of the question seemed a bit out of place, but perhaps he was just as eager to see her in the role as she was about working with him, and it came off a bit forced and awkward.

“Absolutely. In fact, I was wondering—” For a second, the room shifted in and out of focus, tilting sharply on its side. “Oh.” She raised her empty hand to her head to settle the unusual feeling, before gently shaking it off. Taking another long sip of wine, she decided maybe this particular vintage wasn’t sitting well with her. Odd, but not impossible.

Once again reaching to place the glass down on the table, determined that she’d sipped her last drop, her head suddenly began to swim. She immediately froze in place, trying to find her equilibrium and, when unable to do that, Ravyn attempted to at least get the red wine out of her hand before she splashed it on Bertrando’s pale furniture. “I’m sorry, I’m...” Her dry mouth swallowed the words that her swollen lips refused to form.

Blurry-eyed, blinking, she struggled to hold her head steady as she slowly lowered the glass toward the table.

Bertrando swooped in to take the glass. “Ah, darling Ravyn, did this go straight to your head? Tsk tsk. Let me take this from you.”

Her now distended tongue filled her mouth, refusing to cooperate as she struggled to form words, as if her mouth were filled with dry cotton. Her limbs suddenly were foreign to her, hanging heavily from her body. Her head swum against the darkness pulling her down as both panic and realization filled her. Nearly paralyzed, she blinked slowly, heavily, at the still grinning man directly in front of her. His extended smile seemed to deepen and expand farther in front of her, covering the entirety of his now blurred face despite being just inches from her own face.

Poison… Her mouth attempted to form the word, even as her brain refused to comprehend the possibility. Impossible. Unable to move or even hold up her heavy head, her eyes tipped toward Toby’s now still form. His head hung loosely onto his chest, with long, slow deep breaths entering and exiting his body. A fuzzy form appeared beyond him.

In the distance Bertrando clapped his hands, “Our other guest has arrived.”

Two women? The wispy woman covered from head to toe and another? A woman with straight black hair and red lips who appeared and disappeared with each slow blink of Ravyn’s eyes. Familiar, yet Ravyn couldn’t quite grasp why as she attempted unsuccessfully to bring this new woman into focus, struggling against the heavy water that pulled her down.

Oh, Bash, I’ve f’ed up. And then nothing as she simply floated away.