Peter's voice jerked him away from the thought. "That's it for now, people. Lunch!"

Thank G.o.d. He really needed to get some more sleep.

Chapter Four.

THE BODY lay crumpled against the side of the building, a smear of blood against the bricks tracing its trajectory toward the ground. Shadows hid most of the details, but an outstretched arm placed one pale hand, like a crumpled flower, out into a spill of light.

"An inch more to your left."

The hand moved.

Tina consulted the photograph she'd taken before lunch, c.o.c.ked her head to check the body from another angle, and finally straightened out of her crouch. "That's got it."

"Good." Adam took the picture from her as she pa.s.sed and shoved it into the continuity file on his clipboard. "Let's freshen up the blood and I want a warm body in there to check Lee's light levels. Mouse . . ."

The camera operator looked down from his rig. "What?"

"You're six one, right?"

"Six two. And I'm twice his size horizontally. And I'm working."

"Fine. Dalai, hit Lee's marks beside the body."

Looking like he was wishing he'd stayed at his worktable, the prop man shook his head.

"I'm five eleven."

"So think tall. You're not doing anything, get over there. Tony! Go get Lee!"

As Dalai reluctantly crossed the set, Tony headed off the soundstage. Technically, the part of the warm body should have been played by a stand-in, and whether or not they had one on set was generally a fairly good indication of the company's current financial standing. Given the hurry-up-and-wait nature of shooting television, there were always people standing around with nothing to do until someone else did their job. Given the people CB tended to hire, no one was likely to report him for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with union rules.

Those who might didn't last long.

So far, Tony had managed to stay on the move and out from under the lights. The thought of being in front of the camera, even without the camera actually being on, made him sweat.

"Lee?" He took a deep breath, reminded himself that geeky was not a good look, and rapped on the dressing room door. "They're ready for you."

The door opened almost before he moved his hand away. Frowning, Lee peered out at him as though he wasn't entirely certain he understood what he was seeing. "For me?"

"Yeah. Scene 22B." The room behind the actor seemed unusually dark. "You discover the body."

"The body?"

"Catherine's body." With the wig and the blood-and according to bar talk Darkest Night used more blood than any other program currently shooting in the Vancouver area- fans of the show would never know it wasn't Nikki.

Stepping back, Tony indicated that Lee should precede him down the hall. He'd learned early on that expecting actors to follow was like expecting cats to follow and after the whole "quickie in the broom closet" incident with Mason and the previous wardrobe a.s.sistant, he never let them out of his sight. When Lee continued to merely stand and stare, he stepped forward again, suddenly concerned. "Hey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Tony wasn't so sure. "You look . . .""I'm fine." Lee gave himself a little shake and slowly moved out into the hall. It seemed that rather a lot of the shadows moved with him. The dressing room visibly lightened as he left.

And that's just wrong. Tony stood where he was for a moment, eyes narrowed. Not to mention, well, wrong! He'd have asked himself if he were imagining things except that he had no idea what he thought he might be imagining. Finally, when it became obvious that nothing was out of place, he hurried after Lee, careful not to step on the actor's shadow.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, it's one G.o.dd.a.m.ned line and I've already said it seventeen f.u.c.king times!"

The crew suddenly became very busy, looking anywhere but at Lee and Peter.

"It's not about your performance, Lee," the director said calmly, "it's a technical glitch.

There's a shadow . . ."

"So get rid of it!"

"That's what we've been trying to do." Peter's genial voice picked up an edge. "We've been trying to do it all afternoon." As one, they turned toward the lighting crew cl.u.s.tered around the director of photography, who continued describing his latest concept in an exasperated mix of English and French.

Although over the course of the afternoon the lighting layout had practically been rebuilt, the shadow continued to reappear in take after take. Scene 22B, take one: it had covered Lee entirely as he'd leaned forward and flipped over the body. Scene 22B, take seventeen: it was a dark bar across his eyes.

Watching from the sidelines, Tony found himself wondering where the shadow was going. And then wondering when he'd started thinking in cheap horror cliche. Actually, he knew the answer to the second question: right after he'd met Henry.

"Get rid of it in post!" Lee snapped. "And why is it so f.u.c.king cold in here?" Usually someone who took the inevitable technical delays of television in stride, his temper had frayed a little more with every take. Hartley Skenski, the boom operator, had tried to make book on whether or not he'd stomp off the set before they were finished, but no one had taken him up on it.

"We'll do it just once more. I promise," Peter added as Lee's lip curled. "If it's still there, I'll let the guys in post deal with it." He opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly deciding to leave the temperature question unanswered.

Green eyes glittered during a long pause. "One more."

While another five hundred milliliters of blood were applied to the latex gash in the actress' throat, Lee dropped back onto one knee.

Tony moved quietly around behind the video village and checked out the monitor showing the close-up of the actor's face. The bar of shadow was still in place. He stepped hurriedly out of the DP's way and winced as Sorge began to swear.

The shadow quivered.

And disappeared.

The torrent of French profanity stopped between one word and the next. "Go now."Peter dropped into his chair and jammed on his headphones. "Quiet!"

No need for anyone to repeat. The soundstage was so quiet, Tony reminded himself to breathe as he crossed his fingers.

"Roll cameras! Slate!"

"Scene 22B, take 18!"

Lee didn't wait for action. Reaching down, he grabbed the corpse's shoulder, flipped her over onto her back, and snarled, "Well, it looks like Raymond's secret is safe."

"Cut! Print."

"It looked good," Sorge murmured.

"It sounded like s.h.i.t," Peter snapped. "But we can fix that in post. Tina, I want the sound from take one."

"Sound from one, got it." As she noted it on her lined script, everyone else turned to watch Lee stomp off the set.

Peter pulled off his headphones as the corpse sat up and rubbed her shoulder. The crew moved about their usual post-print routine strangely subdued, as though they weren't entirely certain how to react. "I don't need a second prima donna around here," the director sighed as the distant sound of a slamming door marked Lee's pa.s.sage from the sound-stage.

"Maybe he's still upset about the body. The real body," Tony elaborated as everyone now turned to look at him. "You know ..." He added a shrug to the explanation. "...

Nikki."

After a long moment, during which Tony mentally rewrote his resume, Peter sighed again and gestured wearily in Lee's wake. "Go make sure he's all right."

"I told CB we should have taken at least one day off," he added as Tony hurried away.

Sorge snorted, the sound remarkably French. "And CB said the show must go on?"

"No, he told me to get the f.u.c.k out of his office."

Lee's dressing room door was open when Tony reached it. He paused, wiped sweaty hands against his thighs, and leaned forward just enough to see inside. Still in costume, Lee stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in place. It looked almost as though he was seeing the room for the first time.

"Uh, Lee?"

He continued turning until he faced the door, then stopped and frowned.

Tony had no idea why he was suddenly thinking of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

And The Terminator thing fell into place. Lee was staring just slightly beyond him, like he was accessing an internal filing system. "Can I, uh, get you anything?"Focus snapped onto his face and a long finger beckoned Tony forward. "Come in and close the door."

"The door?"

He'd never seen Lee smile like that before. It was almost . . . mocking. "Yes. The door.

Come into the room and close it behind you."

Unable to think of a reason why he shouldn't, and not sure he wanted to, Tony did as he was told.

"Turn off your radio."

"But ..."

"Do it. I don't want to be interrupted."

While youre doing what? Tony wondered as his left hand dropped to the holster on his belt. But Peter had sent him. He was supposed to be here.

"I want you to tell me things." The actor's voice stroked over him like wet velvet. "In return, I will give you what you desire." The requisite vampire-show leather coat slipped off broad shoulders and hit the floor. The burgundy shirt followed a heartbeat later.

Half a dozen heartbeats actually, given how quickly Tony's heart had started beating.

The total weirdness of the situation helped him keep a partial lid on his physical reaction although he was definitely reacting. A dead man would react to a half naked Lee Nicholas and-given a specific dead man-Tony knew that for a fact.

As Lee reached for him, he astounded himself by stepping back.

This was rapidly becoming everything he'd ever dreamed of and a bad soap opera scenario pretty much simultaneously.

No! Another step and his shoulder blades were against the door. This was wrong! It was . . .

It was . . .

He slammed his head back against the door, almost had it, and swore as the memory slipped away.

CB stared down at the sheet of drawing paper on his desk. The lines pressed into the surface had gone gray again, just for an instant. He frowned. He didn't like mysteries and he had already wasted far too much time on this one.

Still frowning, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pencil.

Palm flat against the cool skin of Lee's chest, Tony struggled to ignore the little voice in his head trying to convince him to shut the f.u.c.k up and enjoy the ride. "Lee, this is, uh . .

.""What you want. I give you what you want; you give me what I want. There are other ways I could gain the information, but since you're here ..." His voice trailed off as his hand connected with Tony's crotch.

"No, you don't WANT to be doing THIS . . . f.u.c.k! Stop doING that!"

"No."

"Look, I don't want to hurt you." The words emerged kind of jumbled together, but he managed to sound like he meant the threat.

Again, a smile that didn't look like it belonged on Lee's face. "Try."

d.a.m.n. Four years on the streets, four years with Henry; he could take care of himself if he had to. A little more difficult when he really didn't want to hurt the guy feeling him up, but still . . . Tony tensed, and froze. There was something wrong with Lee's shadow.