Castle of Horror by Barbara Hambly

Author:Barbara Hambly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 1920s movies, barbara hambly, bride of the rat god sequel, colossus films, magical pekingese
Publisher: Barbara Hambly

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What happened next – inevitably – was that Danny Cross arrived in his beat-up Chevy with a request that Norah re-write the dining-room scenes to take place in a parlor. “This is givin’ me the willies,” he said, as Norah looked over the pages and Lenny Palmer finally achieved a set-up that pleased Darlene – whose unfortunate stand-in had, during the entire argument between Chris and Darlene, remained like patience on a monument in the rejected doorway under the grilling heat of the Klieg lights in a copy of Darlene’s gossamer evening-gown. “If it was down South I’d wonder if it was the KKK pullin’ one of their, ‘Let’s dress up in sheets and scare the dumb niggers.’ But the Klan usually lets you know beforehand what they want. And if they didn’t want us filmin’ up here, they’d have gone first after the lawyer that owns this place, and far as I could tell he was pleased as punch to rent to us.”

“Have you had any other trouble in town?” inquired Norah. In India – according to Uncle Sher – native Indians were forbidden to enter any number of ‘sahib’ buildings and facilities, but she’d never heard of gangs of white toughs getting together to beat up those who challenged the system. They simply called the police – usually Indians themselves – and had the offenders put out.

Danny shook his head. “’Course,” he added, “we know to keep our heads down. Stay in the back-end of town, eat at Jimmy’s Diner – which I must say is a damn sight better than half the white restaurants in Reno – don’t go around sayin’ Boo to anybody’s geese. We just want to get in, shoot our picture, and get out. So far, we haven’t heard of anybody who has a problem with that.”

“Besides,” added Deacon, coming over to them after serving tea to Their Majesties yet again, “I don’t think anybody but red-neck country-boys actually believe that ‘all dem black folk is a-scaired o’ ghosts.’ They could do it, sure – this place has about twenty outside doors and anybody could sneak in and make noises and tamper with the light-stands without being seen – but that kind of thing went out with buggy-whips. This is… different.”

While Deacon went back for another take (“It’s tea, for Chrissake,” sighed Christine, “not a Masonic Ritual!”), Norah went with Danny to Queen Victoria’s Parlor, and stood looking around uneasily at the shadowy room. It felt no different from any other room of the house: by far the most handsome of the parlors, with its black-walnut furniture and elaborately-carved paneling, and portraits of two regal-looking ladies staring haughtily down from opposite walls (Mr. Blatt’s screaming ex-wives?). Yet Norah felt deeply uneasy, picturing in her mind what it would have been like shrouded in darkness, with “flakes of fire” darting a few inches above the floor like swarming insects.

Christine, however, was ecstatic. “That’s where we’ve got to hold our séance!” she cried, and Tor –

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