Fall of Light Read Online Free Page A

artist. She comes with me every time. Opal, Hitch, my driver.”
    â€œPleased,” said Hitch, holding out a hand. Opal shook it and smiled.
    Kelsi joined them. “I’m geared up! Let’s rock and roll.”
    â€œBoss?” Hitch said.
    â€œKelsi. Wardrobe. She’s with us, too.”
    Hitch shrugged and held the door for Corvus.
    â€œI’ve got to get food and water,” Opal muttered.
    â€œThere’s another Craft Services van at the site,” said Kelsi. “Dinner break’s at nine. Somebody’ll bring a load of sandwiches.”
    â€œOh, good.”
    Kelsi jumped into the backseat. Opal joined her. Hitch piloted them away from the trailer village.
    From the supermarket parking lot, people could walk anywhere in town; it was that small. Corvus, the director, and an actor Opal hadn’t met yet were staying upstairs in the B&B. Most of the crew and any day players they needed stayed at a budget motel ten miles out of town, in the larger city of Redford off the highway. The production manager had rented a house across the square from the B&B in Lapis where she set up the office, reception, accounting, and a small room where the director, the director of photography, and anyone else who needed to could watch the dailies on DVD. The director of photography and the producer lived upstairs in the house. Other principal actors were living with various families around town.
    Lapis had been small but busy before the Interstate was finished in 1966 and business and traffic moved a few miles west. One main road ran from north to south through town; two smaller roads ran east-west past the outskirts. Hitch took Sixth Street to Lost River Road. A mile east out of town, they came to a post with a paper plate stapled to it. One of the crew had written FOREST and an arrow pointing away from the road on the plate. There was a rutted track where the equipment trucks had churned up late spring mud on their way to the clearing where demonic rituals involving the Dark God were going to be filmed.
    Mud spat up into the undercarriage of the Lincoln as they took the squishy road into the forest. The terrain was slippery. Opal wondered why the location manager had picked this place—until they broke out of the trees into a perfect clearing, firm ground, clear of trees, with a small brook running through one corner, and a stone altar and lichen-starred standing stones at the far end.
    It was Magic Hour. Twilight still lightened the sky; the trees were visible but dark against the lingering light. Someone had brought in small bronze censers on tripods, suitably smoking, and an open fire danced in a ring of stones in front of the altar. A group of extras in long white robes were bunched up at the far end of the meadow. Light racks, camera tracks, and sound equipment stood ready near the altar. Chairs, the Craft Services truck, and equipment vans were arrayed at the near end of the meadow, hidden behind a photographed forest backdrop.
    One of the young men directed Hitch off the road into a makeshift parking lot where someone had cleared a few trees. He pulled in and turned off the engine, which didn’t silence the night. Portable generators roared near the equipment.
    Hitch rounded the car and opened the door, helped Corvus out. Opal and Kelsi emerged. “The ground’s pretty good here, but you better let me lead you anyway,” Opal said, turning so Corvus could rest his hands on her shoulders again.
    â€œAnytime, hon,” said Corvus. He sounded distracted.
    â€œCome on, come on,” yelled Neil Aldridge, the director, “we’re eating energy here.” He wore black slacks and a black shirt. He was tall and muscular, with a shock of dark hair, heavy brow ridges, and a dissatisfied, thin-lipped mouth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking irritated. He appeared about forty-five. She hadn’t seen any of his earlier movies. She and Corvus had wanted to consult