Alchemy of Secrets, page 22
Holland was fairly certain that taking something without permission was actually stealing, but she was less concerned about her minor criminal activity than about the fact that she didn’t remember this at all.
The same song that had been playing on repeat started over again on the radio, until Adam finally turned it off. “I hate that song.”
Holland had a sense of déjà vu. But then she remembered Gabe had said nearly the exact same thing. Something else was going on, something that was starting to terrify her—first the visions and the blood, and now her memories were starting to vanish.
She was starting to fear what else she might lose before the end of the day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Holland saw the iconic water tower first. Tall and silver, it popped against the blue of the sky, and painted across it in iconic block letters was JME.
Jericho Monroe Entertainment.
The first time Holland had come here, she was five. She and her sister were with their dad for Kids Day! All she had wanted was to see Princess Poppy and her pet pony Pistachio. Holland had even brought a rainbow wand, just like the one Poppy used on the show. January had wanted to see Sparkles the dog. She’d brought a box of treats and a leash, planning to use the treats to get the pup on the leash and then take it home.
Everyone had thought the two girls were so precious, with all their hopes and dreams and belief in fictional characters. Even now, all grown up, it was still hard for Holland not to believe, just a little.
The movie studio held a different type of magic than the Regal, but it was magic nonetheless. What is magic, if not something that makes you believe and feel and wonder?
Holland didn’t know if she felt terrified or excited, or if all the buzzing in her head was some other unidentifiable emotion.
Adam stopped the car next to the security booth, and the security guard stepped out. He was dressed like the dad from the JME classic TV show My Neighbor Next Door.
“Happy Halloween,” said Adam. “We’re here to see our friend in the Storytelling Department.”
“Name?” asked the guard.
“Charlotte Davis,” Holland supplied.
“I’m not sure if she got the chance to call it in, but you should be able to reach out to her office to confirm.” Adam spoke with a confident swagger that didn’t leave any room for arguing. Holland wondered if he was using his magic, or if this was just him.
She thought of how easily he’d charmed her when they first met, and how perplexed he’d been when the charm had worn off. Not his magic, she decided.
Still, the security guard made a call without any arguing and then waved them through the gate with a friendly “You can park in the lot to the right. It’s reserved for staff, but it’s not that full today. Miss Davis will come out and meet you there.”
“Thanks, man,” said Adam.
And just like that, they were in.
Holland checked her watch as she stepped out of the car. It was later than she’d realized. 3:33. The sun was shining as if this was its last chance, not holding back any of its rays or heat. She could smell the asphalt melting.
The studio didn’t look as if it had changed in the last few years. Holland walked toward her father’s old parking spot, which now belonged to director Vic VanVleet. Vic’s car was parked there now, a shiny mother-of-pearl electric with a vanity license plate that read VX3—the name of her production company.
“So where do we start looking?” asked Adam.
“My father’s old bungalow. Number 17.”
Adam looked skeptical. “You think there could still be a clue there, after all this time?”
“My father hasn’t failed us yet.”
“Hey guys!” Cat stepped into the parking lot, waving a sword with a jeweled heart on the hilt. She was dressed like Isabella Rose from one of JME’s most popular television shows, Knife and Cross. Which also happened to be Holland’s favorite vampire show. And, yes, when Holland got particularly stressed, she sometimes still wrote fan fiction for it.
In the show, Isabella—the human love interest of the world’s deadliest vampire and a vampire hunter, who had accidentally switched bodies—always wore gowns that were never quite appropriate for the time period but were absolutely gorgeous, like the one Cat was wearing now. It was all elegant black lace straps and layers of pale pink tulle that fell around her to make a gloriously full skirt.
“I love the costume,” Holland said.
“Thank you! I’ve been so excited to wear it and I’m so excited you’re here!” Cat gave Holland a tight hug before turning to Adam. “You must be Holland’s plus one. I’ve heard so much about you!”
Cat thought Adam was Jake, and Holland wasn’t going to correct her. Thankfully, Cat had only known Jake as Clark Kent—Holland never shared the actual names of guys she dated. It felt too much like prematurely saving someone’s number in her phone.
Thankfully, in this case, it allowed Holland to introduce Adam by his real name.
“It’s great to meet you,” Adam said. “Thanks for getting us in here.”
“Anytime,” Cat said. “If you ever want to come back for a tour, I’m your girl. Well, I’m not your girl. Holland is clearly your girl, but I’m Holland’s friend, which makes me your friend now!” Cat sounded flustered, and she was never flustered.
When Adam turned to look at one of the trams zipping by with a collection of tourists, Cat mouthed at Holland, He’s so hot!
Holland tried not to smile, because she knew it would be a real smile. But she and Adam were just pretending. And Adam wasn’t even doing much pretending anymore. Since their kiss at the Beverly Hills Hotel, he actually seemed to be making a conscious effort not to touch her.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Cat added out loud. “Chance is here, too.”
Holland felt a sudden knot in her stomach. She couldn’t run into him now, not after last night. If he saw her and she couldn’t explain things, he really might never forgive her. “What’s he doing here?” she asked.
“He’s meeting with Vic VanVleet.” Cat waved her fake sword in a little circle, because not only was Isabella Rose extraordinarily fashionable, she was also great with weapons. “I think she wants to do another film where he’s the star.”
“That’s wonderful for Chance,” said Holland. And it was wonderful for her, too, because she most likely wouldn’t run into him.
“Don’t tell him I said anything about it,” said Cat. “I’m sure he’ll want to tell you himself at the party tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” Holland said. “I won’t even mention we were here.”
Cat gave her a grateful smile as she started to lead them across the parking lot. “Normally, I’d say we could walk, but this heat is absurd and the costume department is a trek, so I was thinking we could borrow a golf cart.”
“Actually,” said Holland, “I thought Adam and I could go over to the bungalows first. We were hoping to take a look at Ben Tierney’s old bungalow.”
Cat immediately looked uneasy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We just want to take a quick picture. I’m a film student,” Adam lied smoothly. “Benjamin Tierney is the reason why, and I really want to see where he worked.”
Cat worried her lip between her teeth.
“Please.” Adam reached out and touched her arm.
Cat looked at him wide-eyed. The touch must have put her over the edge. She looked flustered before, but now she looked dazzled. She shook her head. Some of the dazzle left her eyes, but for a second her expression was a little vacant. “What were we just talking about?”
“You got a call from your boss,” said Adam. “You need to head back to your office, so Holland and I were just saying we’d meet you at the costume department.”
“Yes, right. That’s a good idea.” Cat pointed her sword to the right of the water tower. “See you in a bit,” she said, but it lacked her signature enthusiasm. Her voice had a far-off quality.
And Holland now made the terrifying realization that she knew just how Adam’s magic worked. It wasn’t a magnified version of charm like she had thought. If she was right, Adam Bishop had the power to erase memories and write entirely new ones with merely the touch of his fingers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Adam didn’t look as if he’d done anything wrong—or done anything at all. Which was perhaps the scariest part.
“What did you do to my friend?” Holland demanded. “Did you just use your ability on her?”
Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t deny it, which meant the answer was yes.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” said Adam tightly.
“Cat’s not part of your world. I don’t want her hurt by any of this.”
Adam worked his jaw. Until that moment, Holland realized, she’d never seen him angry, even in the Professor’s office, right before Gabe had shot him. “You didn’t seem to mind when I did it to the couple at the hotel.”
Holland wanted to say she hadn’t known he was using his ability, but she had—she just hadn’t known what his ability was yet. She hadn’t cared that he’d used magic, she just didn’t like that this was his magic.
“Have you ever done that to me?” she asked. “Have you erased any of the conversations we’ve had?”
Adam burst out laughing. “If I had used my ability on you, you wouldn’t be asking me that question. And you wouldn’t have let your friend Gabe shoot me.”
Holland felt another stab of guilt, but she couldn’t quite let this go. Not with all the things that had been going wrong with her memories. “That still wasn’t a no.”
Adam sighed. “Anyone can say no, Holland, I just told you why you should believe my no.” His eyes met hers and Holland saw a sliver of hurt. “I’ve never erased your memories or planted new ones. In my world, you have to have an ability, but I don’t really like using mine, not unless it’s necessary. And … I’d much rather get by on my charm.” His mouth tilted into a familiar smirk. But Holland couldn’t help noticing he still had his hands in his pockets.
He kept them there as they quietly walked the cobblestone path to the bungalows.
Everything at JME was picture perfect, and even with all Holland’s fears and fraying nerves, she still fell under the studio’s spell. The buildings were all from the golden era of Hollywood, when people still dressed up to go to the theater, and most moving pictures were under an hour and a half.
Movie posters were everywhere. Huge murals covered the exterior walls of buildings, so large that people could see them from certain freeways. Holland saw one that read Knife and Cross—Season VII coming soon! On the poster, the television show’s namesake characters were facing each other as a fire raged behind them.
Then, of course, there were all the framed posters for classic films, hung in the ivy that covered most of the buildings.
Holland snuck a look at Adam. The movie posters in his penthouse had made her think he was a film fan, but he didn’t seem as enchanted as she was. Of course, his hands were also still in his pockets, so maybe he was just uncomfortable.
“Did you know,” she said to Adam, “that in the mid-90s a studio exec wanted JME to feel like an old East Coast college campus, so he had them plant all that ivy?”
Adam shook his head, as a squirrel darted out of said ivy and scurried across the path, reminding Holland of another story.
“I was also told that another studio, which I won’t name, has allegedly trained their squirrels to come up to visitors and beg for treats.”
This one earned her a smile and inspired her to keep going.
“Unfortunately, the squirrels here are not as friendly,” she continued. “And there’s supposedly an entire kingdom of feral cats that come out at night. Gardeners leave them treats because they keep out all the rats and mice.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Adam.
“Cat told me.” Holland was always asking her questions about work. Ben Tierney didn’t come up much in Cat’s stories, but every time he did, Holland felt like a piece of him was still alive somewhere.
They reached Bungalow 17.
Everything smelled like oranges, and for a second Holland was five again and her father was letting her and January pick oranges from a tiny grove.
The grove was still there, but it was no longer tiny. The trees in front of the bungalow had aged, just like Holland. They were full and knotty and beautiful, and in front of them was a faded hand-painted sign:
Free oranges
—Farmer Ben
It hurt, how much she missed him in that moment. She wanted to take one of her dad’s oranges and keep it forever, even though she knew oranges didn’t last forever.
She started to reach for one, when she noticed the production company name on the bungalow: VX3.
Holland dropped her hand, took a few steps closer, and looked through the window.
This bungalow was Vic VanVleet’s now, and she was inside, talking to Chance Garcia.
CHAPTER FORTY
What do you want to do?” Adam asked, his voice low.
She checked her watch. 3:57.
“I don’t think we have many options,” she said. They could wait and waste more time, or they could go inside.
Holland had a sudden image of her friendship with Chance catching on fire and Vic VanVleet calling henchmen to throw them out of the studio. Holland doubted that Vic VanVleet actually had henchmen. But then she thought of Cat’s reaction when Holland had mentioned wanting to visit this bungalow, and the idea didn’t seem that far-fetched.
“Maybe we just wait a few—” Holland stopped mid-sentence as she saw Chance stand up and shake Vic VanVleet’s hand.
And suddenly Holland had a third terrible idea. But it seemed a little less terrible than the two ideas that had come before.
“Come on,” Holland whispered to Adam. Then she was pulling him to the side of the building.
Chance rounded the corner with a swagger to his step.
Holland’s palms were sweating, and her voice came out a little high as she said, “Hey.”
Chance stopped abruptly. He looked at her, then at Adam, then back at her, and his expression went from stunned, to happy, to what-the-hell-is-going-on. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t explain right now,” Holland said. “But I really need you to do me a favor.”
Chance laughed, a bitter sound she’d never heard him make. He looked at her as if he didn’t even know who she was anymore.
“I know in the last twenty-four hours I’ve seemed like a different person. But I swear, there is a good explanation for everything.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you right now.”
“Of course you can’t.” Chance started shaking his head. “I’ve gotta go.”
Adam stepped forward, took his hands from his pockets and reached for Chance’s arm.
Chance immediately jumped back. “Don’t touch me, man!”
“Sorry,” Adam said, but he looked ready to try again.
Holland put a hand on his arm, stopping him. She couldn’t let Chance leave. Holland needed his help. But letting Adam erase his memories wasn’t the way to do this.
Holland took the deepest breath she’d ever taken in her life. She had been living under the delusion that if she made it through today, her life would just go back to what it had been, but that was never going to happen. And maybe that was for the best. She didn’t love running for her life, but she did love being able to talk about her dad, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to hiding that part of herself.
“Chance, wait,” she called. “This has to do with my father.”
Chance immediately stopped and turned. Holland could see all the questions in his eyes.
Is she manipulating me? Is she finally about to talk about the parents she never mentions? Can I even believe a word she says?
“My last name isn’t actually St. James,” she said. “I was born Holland Tierney. My mother is Isla Saint, and my father is Benjamin J. Tierney. I’m sorry I never told you. I never tell anyone. My sister and I changed our last names when we went to college. The reason I’m telling you this now is because yesterday, I found out my father left me something, and I believe it’s in his old bungalow. Number 17.”
“I don’t know that I believe you.” Chance said. Once again, he looked ready to walk away.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Holland said. “But you know me. My father is the whole reason I’ve been so obsessed with finding the devil. I think he made a deal with him, and that’s why he died. I would think you, of all people, would understand why I wouldn’t ever want to talk about it. And if that’s not enough for you, you can search it online. Ben and Isla had twin daughters. I don’t have my phone, or I’d pull up an old family picture.”
Chance ran a hand through his hair. He looked torn, as if he actually did believe her but wanted to stay mad. “Does this have anything to do with what happened last night?”
“Yes.” Holland wished she could leave it at that, but she could see Chance wanted more. “The person I was with last night was a mistake. He was only after the same thing I’m looking for right now.”
“What about you?” Chance tilted his chin toward Adam.
“I’m just trying to keep her alive,” Adam said.
Chance continued to eye him warily, his dislike for Adam nearly palpable. But when he looked back at Holland, his anger had faded. “What do you want me to do?”
“I just need you to get Vic VanVleet out of her bungalow and distract her for half an hour while we search.”
“Have you ever met Vic VanVleet?” he asked.
Holland shook her head.
“I can probably get her out of there, but only for fifteen minutes, tops.”
It took Chance less than a minute to step into the bungalow and then step outside with Vic VanVleet.
Whatever he said was enough of a distraction that she didn’t even lock the door. Although maybe she just planned on returning very soon.
