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had forgotten he was talent and she was second- or third-class citizen. On some shoots, nobody ever let you forget your status; other shoots were more relaxed. Opal hadn’t spent enough time on this shoot to get a sense of how it worked.
    â€œGlad to have you,” Corvus said to Kelsi.
    â€œI’ll get my kit. Meet you at the car.”
    Opal packed solvents and brushes and touch-up equipment in her makeup kit, along with duplicates of the pieces of latex she had applied to Corvus’s face, in case of wardrobe malfunctions. “I have to stop at Craft Services and pick up more water—”
    â€œCould you get me something to drink with calories in it? I don’t want to eat with this on,” Corvus said.
    â€œYeah. Patty stocked protein shakes for you. I’ll walk you to the car and get you settled, then run for it.”
    â€œGood. I can see, but my vision is limited, and I don’t want to bump my hands.”
    â€œRest your hands on my shoulders.” She stood in front of the door and waited until Corvus was right behind her, his large, warm, rubber-gloved hands heavy on her shoulders. They had done this before, too: she had acted as guide dog on Dead Loss . The doubled head he had worn for that role was much more of a challenge for him visually.
    Opal opened the door at her end of the trailer and flicked off the lights. “Three steps down,” she said, “and the last one is—yikes!”
    Erika’s camera flashed, blinding her. She would have stumbled without Corvus’s steadying grip on her shoulders.
    â€œStop it!” she yelled at Erika.
    â€œNo way. I’ve waited all afternoon for this.” Erika shot a stream of pictures, alternating between two cameras on straps around her neck.
    â€œIf we’re late because of your interference,” Corvus said, his voice a low rumble, “we’ll redirect the wrath to you.”
    â€œI’m done for now,” Erika said. She smirked. “Thanks so much. Catch you later. Nice job, Opal.” She strolled away, taking her musky scent cloud with her.
    Opal shivered with suppressed rage. The wrappings on her powers unwound; she felt red rivers rise. Energy pooled in her palms. She hadn’t been this angry since she was sixteen, newly powerful, and her younger brother and sister had teased her beyond bearing. She could hold up her hands and let the power jab out of her into Erika’s back. Erika would melt into a puddle of steaming flesh, her cameras slag.
    Opal clenched her fists to restrain the eager power.
    Corvus’s hands on her shoulders steadied her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Not yet,” in a Dark God voice, and that gave her the strength to chill her power and send it back to sleep. In the shocky aftermath, she swayed, and Corvus held her steady.
    How could she even contemplate such a devastating thing? She was Opal, low-powered Opal who only used her gifts to change how things looked. Who inside her rose up in a killing rage?
    Corvus’s rubber-taloned fingers massaged her shoulders a little. His regular voice said, “You okay, Opal, hon? I guess we should have expected that. She’s a pit bull.”
    She hugged herself, settled down. “Sure. Sorry, Corr. Let’s go. Three steps down, and the last one is steeper.”
    â€œI’ll find it by feel.”
    They descended the steps. Once they touched down on the parking lot between the bed-and-breakfast, where the first unit had been filming all day, and the abandoned grocery store the production company had taken over as a housing for sound stages, Corvus moved up to walk beside her, one hand still on her shoulder. They walked to the black Lincoln the production manager had rented for Corvus’s use.
    A short dark man leaned against the car, reading a magazine. He wore pointy boots, jeans, and a brown leather jacket. “Hitch,” Corvus said. “This is Opal, my makeup