“We’ll see how amused you are when you clean all the toilets later, prospect.”
Jake groaned and pressed an elbow into Vars’s stomach, but even that touch felt illicit in front of Knight. “Yeah, Knight, how can we help?”
“Follow me,” Knight said and turned on his heel before marching back down the hall, providing them with a view of the back of his head, where the rest of his hair was fastened with a black bow.
Vars shook his head at Jake and followed without a word.
It was all fun and games until it turned out Jake was also required to paint his face white, to remain unrecognizable in a video he was about to star in, on Knight’s orders. This was what he and Vars got pulled out of bed for?
“Seriously? What is this even?”
Jake frowned at the sleeves that kept digging into his wrists like shackles. He’d had to change very carefully to hide the collar from Elliot who would surely notice its resemblance to the one he’d so frequently mentioned when speaking of William Fane. The whole setup was absurd. Jake had never been a part of the drama club in high school, and trying to make an actor out of him now was the dumbest idea ever. But of course Elliot would get whatever he wanted. For Elliot, Knight would dress up in the silly outfit, paint his face, and powder his hair. He would also bother both of the prospects and employ them in a recording session for his boyfriend’s YouTube channel.
It was ridiculous.
How on earth had Elliot managed to make Knight dance to his tune was anyone’s guess. He was neither all that pretty, nor could possibly give head that well. And now the eye patch he wore only added another level of crazy to his persona.
Of course, unlike his polyester-wearing “actors”, Elliot was clad in a fine, slim cut suit with a vest underneath, and had a little watch dangling on a chain from the pocket. It seemed that the only person as excited about this as him was Blackstar, who was to play the housekeeper and seemed quite comfortable in an old gray gown Elliot must had gotten at Goodwill, and a costumey bonnet. Jake had never seen her so completely covered.
Both he and Vars begrudgingly agreed to help Knight’s new boyfriend stage some idiotic dramatization, but all protests had died on Jake’s lips when he realized that they would be staging scenes from a new batch of Mrs. Ludlow’s diaries that had just arrived from the translator.
Jake could almost feel the gargoyle laugh at him, staying hidden just beneath his skin and prepared to take over at any second. The sensations of being so much bigger, stronger, of floating in the air and feeling no pain upon impact were still with him, but no matter how nicely he asked, Elliot refused to let him see the script or the translated pages. He claimed surprise would produce greater dramatic value and push inexperienced actors (aka all of them) to produce a more genuine performance. How that was supposed to work—Jake had no freaking idea.
And the most ironic thing of all was that Elliot chose Jake to play Roger, the man who’d turned into a monster at William Fane’s command. Without knowing how exactly the plot would end for him—with a horrible death, of that he was sure—Jake could hardly focus, overcome with cold fear that kept erupting in his gut. He wished he could just tell everyone the truth, demand to have an insight into his future, but he soldiered on, clad in the uncomfortable clothes that represented a servant.
At least Vars got to wear something warm. The costume Elliot provided for him was all black and consisted of a huge woolen sweater and a cape that was to stand in for the gargoyle’s wings. His rubber mask looked like it had been bought at a dollar store sale, but Elliot claimed the costumes could be adjusted in post-production, whatever that meant.
The genius idea of employing him and Vars to play the possessed servant and his diabolical alter ego had been Knight’s, and the man seemed awfully pleased with himself because of it. Considering that all the furnishings on set, and all the costumes—including Elliot’s obviously tailored and well-made outfit—had been purchased with his money, maybe his pride was at stake here.
It was also the last thing he wanted to do on the morning after escaping from a burning museum, landing in a frozen lake, and giving over his bodily autonomy to another man no-thanks to a magical collar.
“Are we doing this or not?” Jake moaned from his spot on a creaking chair upholstered with red velvet.
“I’m finishing my makeup,” Blackstar said, but when she faced Jake, she only looked more goth than usual.
“Isn’t your character an old lady?”