The Masked Family (28 page)

 

*****

Draped in bedsheets, Celeste and Paisley ran back and forth across the back yard, hooting and howling like ghosts. The best they could get Grogan to do was stand in one place and wave his arms around under his sheet.

But at least he was out there with them, which Celeste knew was a decent first step.

"Ooooo!" said Celeste.

"Aaaahhh!" said Paisley.

"I want a s-smooooke," said Grogan.

The kids watched with the grownups from the dining room window, and Celeste could hear everything they said.

"Those are real
ghosts?
" Late sounded shaky. "What do they
want?
"

"They want
you
," said Glo, who was too old to be tricked and just the right age to get off on freaking out Late. "They want to take you away to
ghost land!
"

"No they don't," said Baron. "They just like to fly around on Halloween night, see? They're just having fun."

Late got more panicky with each passing minute. "Can you make them go away?"

Just then, Grogan got the urge to charge toward the window and howl. "C-Come wiiith uuuss!" he said, flapping his arms.

Late screamed at the top of his lungs. Glo screamed with delight, and baby Lydia started bawling.

Grogan ran back to where he'd been standing and went back to doing next to nothing.

As Baron and E.Q. tried to calm down the kids, Celeste laughed under her sheet. She couldn't help it.

Same old Grogan, striking fear in kids' hearts.

The gang disappeared from the window then, but Celeste and Paisley kept flitting around the yard, swirling their bedsheets like capes or robes.

"Hey, Spellerina!" said Paisley when they crossed paths.

"Hey, Moon Girl!" said Celeste.

"Spellerina!"

"Moon Girl!"

"Spellerina!"

So the Nuclear Family was back in business. After all those years, all the old heroes had returned to the scene of their childhood adventures for another teamup. Almost all of the heroes, anyway.

These days, it was the Nuclear Family minus one.

Suddenly, the back door flew open, which scared Celeste enough to make her stumble and yelp. Glo and Late charged out the door and down the steps with pillowcases on their heads.

Laughing as the howling kids chased them, Celeste and Paisley continued to run. Pretty soon, everyone was giggling and breathless, hearts pounding away in the moonlight.

Then, lo and behold, Grogan joined the fray, sprinting among them in the wet grass. He chased down Glo and tickled her till she squealed. He hefted Late overhead and ran him in circles, swooping and swerving him through the air like a swallow.

He grabbed Paisley's hands and waltzed her around the yard, both of them laughing like kids.

Then, he scooped Celeste into his arms and hugged her to him. He spun her around and around as the other ghosts traipsed and giggled, chasing this way and that.

And as he spun Celeste around, she saw another ghost in a bedsheet nearby, standing where Grogan had stood, waving his arms like Grogan had waved.

That was when she realized it must be someone other than Grogan who was spinning her. The question was, if he wasn't Grogan, then who was he?

He wasn't massive enough to be El Yucatango, that was for sure. She might believe he was Baron or E.Q., though.

There was just one problem with those guesses. When Celeste spun, she saw Baron and E.Q. waving from the back porch. El Yucatango, too. Even Mary Anne Filigree, who'd come for the party.

Everyone was present and accounted for.

That was when Celeste knew who was spinning her in the moonlight, and why he felt so familiar. Even without seeing his face, she knew.

She knew he was the only real ghost in the yard.

"Oh my God." Celeste touched his face through the sheet. "Is it you?"

The ghost nodded and kept spinning her in the moonlight.

So the Nuclear Family was complete, after all.

Celeste laughed and cried as he turned her again and again. Tears washed her face, and she pressed kisses through the sheets into his cheeks and neck.

She held on as tightly as she could, wishing the moment would never end, whispering his name over and over and over like a secret or a magic spell.

 

*****

 

Special Preview:
Day 9

 

A Literary Thriller

By Robert T. Jeschonek

Now On Sale

*****

Chapter One

Near Los Angeles, California - Today

Three...two...one.

The church exploded in a tremendous blast of fire and smoke. Rubble rocketed in all directions as an ear-splitting boom cascaded across the valley. Flaming debris crashed down on car hoods and bounded over the pavement. A church bell hurtled into the cab of a garbage truck, smashing through the windshield with a loud, discordant
bong
.

An enormous, blazing crucifix plunged on the roof of a car speeding away from the blast, sending it spinning in circles. Tires squealed as the car swept around and around, finally slamming into the pump in front of a gas station, which then exploded.

A plume of fire shot skyward from the pump, blowing the car end-over-end across the street. The gas station windows shattered inward, and every car on the block bounced from the force of the blast. Power lines snapped and whipped like cobras, spraying showers of sparks through the air.

Then, suddenly, someone yelled, "Cut!" And the whole movie crew erupted in wild applause at once. Everyone behind the cameras clapped and hooted and whistled at the spectacular display of carnage.

Dunne Sullivan clapped, too, though he felt as dazed as he was excited. The mayhem had left him in a state of shock; he wasn't part of the crew and wasn't used to spending time around high intensity action scenes during filming.

It was true Dunne made his living off movies and TV shows, but he did so by writing tie-in novels based on them. Till today, the closest he'd been to a movie set or location shoot was the TV screen in his apartment.

But according to Thad Glissando, producer extraordinaire for Halcyon Studios, he'd be spending a lot more time there from now on. "Hey now, hero!" Thad clapped Dunne on the back, jolting him forward. "Think we got enough
bang
for our
buck
here?"

Dunne nodded and grinned. "I want toys like that for
my
movie."

Thad laughed. "Don't worry!" He ran a tanned hand over his slicked-back blonde hair. "
Weeping Willows The Movie
will have
twice
the budget of this picture."

Dunne got a shiver of excitement just hearing the title. He was going from lowly tie-in writer to Hollywood screenwriter just like
that
. All thanks to a bestselling novel he'd written about the cult classic 70s cop show
Weeping Willows
, a kickass hit breaking big just as Thad was gearing up for a
Willows
movie.

So Dunne was about to write a major motion picture. Meeting on location with Thad would seal the deal, and then Dunne, at age 25, would finally get his shit together.

At least as much as he could
ever
get his shit together after what he'd done to his family.

"Ready to start writing?" Deep crescent dimples set off Thad's mile-wide smile like parentheses. "Does this get the creative juices flowing?" He spread his arms wide to take in the smoky set, hissing with the spray of fire hoses putting out flaming debris from the shoot. The afternoon sun flared on the sleeves of his tailored white suit, giving him a radiant, angelic glow.

"Are you kidding?" said Dunne. "When do you want the first pages?"

Thad threw an arm around Dunne's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Actually, you need to do some
preproduction
first." Thad nodded and raised his blonde eyebrows. "Some
research
."

"Research?" Dunne frowned. "What kind of research?"

"On location." Thad turned Dunne from the set and pulled him along as he started walking. "Expenses paid, of course. And you'll have a partner."

"Partner?" Dunne kept frowning. Thad was guiding him in the direction of a white limousine parked alongside a trailer twenty yards away. "A writing partner?"

"More like a
hunting
partner," said Thad. "And
inspiration
."

Suddenly, Thad jammed two fingers in his mouth and let loose a shrill whistle in the direction of the limo. "Time for your close-up, Hannahlee!"

The back door of the limo swung open, propelled by a slender arm. A woman's arm in a long, black sleeve.

As Dunne watched, the woman's arm withdrew. After a moment's pause, her foot slid out, wearing an ivory pump. It was followed by a shapely leg in pale white hose. A black skirt with white piped trim rippled just below the knee.

Thad elbowed Dunne in the ribs. "Take a deep breath, kid. This is what they call a life-changing experience."

Thad's warning did no good. Dunne still wasn't ready for what he saw. For
whom
he saw.

When the first foot touched the pavement, the second one swung out beside it. Dunne saw more of the dress: gathered waist, wide white belt, white buttons. Understated, businesslike, crisp. As the woman braced herself against the seat, he saw white piping running from cuff to shoulder along her sleeve.

Squinting into the shadows of the limo, Dunne strained to glimpse her face. For a moment, all he could make out was a faint, gauzy shape, like a veil concealing her features. Like a ghost.

Then, suddenly, she emerged. She pushed up from the seat and stood straight, revealed all at once before him in bright daylight.

Which was exactly when Dunne gasped.

He could not believe his eyes. Not even a little. She
couldn't
be.

Thad laughed beside him. "I was wrong, wasn't I?" He shook Dunne's shoulders. "Life-changing experience is putting it
mildly
."

Dunne nodded and stared.

She was
striking
. The woman at the limo was in her late fifties or early sixties, at least. She was dressed conservatively, and the red color in her shoulder-length hair must have been dye.

But she was still
striking
. And not just because of who she
was
. Not just because she'd been the biggest star of the
Weeping Willows
TV show. Not just because Dunne had worshipped her from afar and written book after book starring her character.

She was most striking because of the way she carried herself. The way she stood there, tall and regal in the late afternoon southern California sun. Thirty years past her
Weeping Willows
glory days, twenty years since she'd dropped out of the public eye...and still somehow resplendent, impressive, luminous. Still the star of all she surveyed.

Dunne stumbled as Thad walked him to the limo. His heart pounded, and nervous chills flashed through his body. His mouth went dry, and his palms turned wet.

There she was. Right in front of him. The actress who'd played Kitty Willow.
Kitty Willow.

"Dunne Sullivan," said Thad. "Meet Hannahlee Saylor."

Dunne frowned as Thad pushed him toward her. He recognized the woman, but not the name. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Saylor." He extended his hand. "Or should I say Ms. Caprice?"

The woman smiled and shook Dunne's hand. "Lianna Caprice was a long time ago." Her voice was so familiar, deep and velvety, yet cracking with age on the lowest notes. "I go by Hannahlee Saylor now."

Dunne shivered as he held her slender hand. Until now, she had never been quite real to him. An image on a TV screen, she might as well have been a goddess, transfigured in distant cloud tops and rainbows.

Dunne held on to her hand for an extra moment, aware of nothing but her face, her presence, her touch. Her blazing green eyes, locked with his.

Finally, Thad broke the spell. "You two will be spending a lot of time together. We need you to find the ultimate
Weeping Willows
authority."

Dunne let go of Hannahlee's hand. He suddenly felt self-conscious and broke eye contact with her, too. "Who's that?"

"Cyrus Gowdy," said Thad. "Maybe you've heard of him."

Of course he had. "The creator of
Weeping Willows
."

"Bingo," said Thad.

Dunne combed his fingers through his thin, sandy hair. "But no one knows where he is, right?"

Thad shrugged. "You see our problem."

"He's been off the grid for what? Five years?" said Dunne. "Is he even alive?"

"He's out there somewhere." Hannahlee said it definitively.

"There are more rumors than you can shake a stick at," said Thad. "But we think there's some truth to them. We think he's hiding somewhere in the
Weeping Willows
fan underground."

Dunne scowled. "There's a fan underground?"

"Is there ever!" Thad rolled his eyes. "Which is why we need you two. Kitty Willow herself and the writer whose books have kept
Weeping Willows
alive all these years. You'll have instant entrée with the fan community."

Dunne rubbed his chin. "And you want us to find Gowdy why, exactly?" He had a thought, and his hopes and dreams took a sudden nosedive. "Do you want him to write the screenplay?"

"No, no." Thad chuckled and thumped Dunne on the back. "But he
is
the only one who can save the movie. We need him to sign a
release
."

"What kind of release?" said Dunne.

"In Gowdy's original contract, he signed over everything to Halcyon Studios...
almost
," said Thad. "But he still has right of refusal on future
Willows
projects."

"Like movies," said Hannahlee.

"See where we're going with this?" said Thad. "No signed release from Gowdy..."

"...no
Weeping Willows The Movie
. Got it." Dunne nodded and clapped his hands together. "So when do we start?"

"Show him the flyer," said Thad.

Hannahlee slid a folded sheet of pale blue paper out of her pocket and handed it to Dunne. It was an ad for the "25
^th
Annual Willowcon" in L.A.

"The world's biggest convention for
Weeping Willows
fans," said Thad. "Might be a logical place to start, eh?"

"This is tomorrow," said Dunne.

"Then that's when you start." Suddenly, Thad shot his hand in the air. "So can I get a 'Hey now, hero?'"

It was the most famous catch phrase from
Weeping Willows
. Dunne knew it well, but he hesitated. Meeting the piercing green gaze of Hannahlee, he felt exposed. As if she could see through to what he really was. As if she knew he was as far from being a hero as anyone could get.

Because the truth was, Dunne's wife and baby daughter had died because of him. Because when a murderous gunman had broken into their home, Dunne had been too scared to fight back. He'd been too much of a coward to fight for his family's lives.

The truth was, Dunne was the opposite of a hero. But he said it anyway, to placate Thad. To move forward with this chance to turn his life around.

This chance for him to change.

"Hey there, hero." Dunne said it half-heartedly.

"What're we fightin' for?" said Thad.

"Love and justice," said Dunne.

"You're darn tootin'." Hannahlee frowned at Dunne as she said it.