Tanith Lee by Shadow Kissing

Author:Shadow Kissing [Kissing, Shadow]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-12T02:16:48+00:00

Chapter 7

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“Luckily we’re safe now. If we meet any werewolves, we can force these silver bullets down their throats.”

“But, Connor, they’re made of chocolate.”

” Really? Better eat them, then, Vivien, do you think?”

“Both?”

They set the two bullets, an example of which had been offered to every person entering the movie theater, side by side on the table.

“Silver foil over candy coating,” said Connor. “They look almost real.” He gazed up and away into nothingness for a moment. She saw it happen, the shadow rising behind his eyes. “Counterfeit. Funny how something can be a lie and still seem true.” Then he pushed the shadow back inside himself. “Would you like some brandy with your coffee?”

Vivien shook her head.

“I will. I need it, after that scene with J.D.”

The film, which had been two hours long and rather marvelous, had proved a success with the hoped-for distributor, and J.D. and tuxedoed Ronald Whiting, the film’s makers, had broken out more champagne. J.D. had gone round to everyone who had worked in any capacity on the film, wringing their hands over and over. Reaching Connor, J.D. had gone overboard in his praises: “We couldn’t have done it without him!”

“We only supplied and organized the expected stuff. For which they paid handsomely, despite a low budget,” Connor had protested later.

“Oh, come on, Conn, don’t sell us short,” said Lewis. “Who ever heard of making a film set during the Napoleonic wars and not showing a single battle? Okay, it was rendered on the personal level, a family saga with a werewolf in the closet—but how we dressed those sets made the thing work.”

“You’ve forgotten a few actors, Lewis. And a director and producer. And the design team.”

“Yes, yes, okay—”

“Not to mention camera work that deserves an Oscar.”

“Sure, but—”

Cinnamon had interrupted this discussion, which took place on the baking pavement of a now-nocturnal ten-thirty London, milling with rambling crowds. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go eat,” said Angela.

“Where are we going?” demanded Cinnamon.

“Don’t know where you’re going, Cinn,” said Lewis. “To hell on a bicycle?”

“I mean dinner, Lew.”

“Wherever you like.”

“Oh, then—”

“No,” said Lewis firmly. “I mean Angela and I are eating at Goya’s. And you are not fit to be seen there in that Kleenex of a dress you’re wearing. Vivien, though, and just possibly Connor, if he can agree with me for once, would be welcome.”

Cinnamon’s face set in a mulish rage. So, after all, she could be wound up.

Connor said, “Thanks, Lewis, Angela. Vivien and I have a table booked elsewhere.”

Vivien shook hands with Lewis, who kissed her on both cheeks. “Watch out for Connor—isn’t it full moon tonight?

If that long hair of his gets longer, run!”

Angela kissed Connor, hugged him with surprising warmth, and shook hands with Vivien without either hug or kiss.

“Terrific to meet you, Vivien.” Then, turning to her husband, she said, like a schoolmarm, “Now, we can’t leave poor little Cinnamon all on her own. Her dress is all right.” And Lewis was saying something very odd that sounded like,

“Hey,

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