The Spawn of Lilith Page 9

  I looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not thinking of calling it off, are you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Randy, you can’t!”

  “I’m not gonna risk your health, or my reputation,” he growled. “This piece of shit film isn’t worth it, okay?”

  Did he really have to find his inner alpha now, fer crissake?

  I grabbed his arm before he could walk away.

  “Randy, listen to me.” I lowered my voice, but not the intensity. “I’ve worked my ass off on this film, doubling everyone with boobs, for less than minimal pay. Rock calls me his ‘leather girl.’ You have no idea how that makes my skin crawl. In order to get him to even agree to let me do an actual fight, I had to spend hours getting groped by Axel. I want this fight. I need this fight. If you call it off, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Lee, I—”

  I held up a hand.

  “That asshole wants nothing more than to prove I can’t handle it because his ego is involved, and I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction.”

  Randy looked at me. His eyes shifted colors again. I stared him down until they returned to their normal shade and we’d established who was boss.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes. Quite sure.” I straightened the bodice of my corset and gave my sword a fancy flourish just because I could.

  He gave a deep sigh and then nodded. “Okay. But let’s get it in the can this next take.”

  I grinned at him. “It’s digital video, Squid.”

  He grinned back. “Figure of speech.”

  We exchanged a fist bump and waited for Axel to finish his water break. Most of the cast had been assembled because Rock thought Vixenia would want to make an example of my character, for daring to defy her will. It was kind of awesome because I’m pretty sure that all the actors and their characters were rooting for the concubine in leather, and not Axegard.

  The cameras were ready to roll, or whatever the video equivalent would be.

  “You ready to lose again, little girl?”

  I looked up to see Axel, all six foot whatever of him, standing in front of me, leering at my cleavage. I just smiled and nodded, having left my list of pithy one-liners at home.

  Everyone got into place. Megan, the makeup gal, came trotting out to blot the shine off my face. I smiled ruefully.

  “You know I’ll start sweating as soon as the fight starts.”

  “You’ll look great when you start, though.”

  She went over to needlessly spritz Axel with fake sweat. The production assistant-slash-script supervisor held the clapperboard in front of the main camera.

  “You are ready?” Navida called to me and Axel.

  We both nodded.

  “Axel and concubine fight, take four!”

  “You ready to die, bitch?”

  “I’d rather die than have you touch me again.”

  Axel charged, swinging his broadsword down toward my head without controlling the momentum or using safe distance. I parried, knowing it was coming and bracing for the impact, which I felt all the way to my toes. I swept his blade to the side, slicing toward his midsection with a speed he didn’t expect. He barely evaded the cut, even though it was choreographed, stumbling backward with a surprised grunt.

  I took advantage of the moment and attacked with a series of cuts that sent Axel back-peddling, barely making his own parries. He wouldn’t have made them at all if he hadn’t been so familiar with the choreography. I had to give him points for that.

  Axel hit the side of the pool, hard. He rebounded with a flurry of blows that sent me reeling backward, arms flinching under the impact. At least he stuck to the moves, but if he hadn’t been pulling any punches in the previous takes, now he was hammering me with all of his strength.

  I fell to the ground, parrying yet another blow that came in aimed straight at my head. I mean, straight at my fucking head.

  This asshat has a real problem with rejection.

  I caught the edge of Axel’s broadsword in a clean parry. The next move was supposed to be another blow from him, then my arms giving out all weak and quivering.

  Cue one dead concubine.

  Axel swung down in another cut to my head, using all of his considerable strength. Instead of my arms going all wimpy, I parried the blow, threw it off to the side and delivered a pommel to his solar plexus. Hard, fast, and without mercy. Then I rolled out of the way and got to my feet as he fell forward onto his knees, gasping for air.

  “I will not be yours,” I said in my best theatrical tones.

  A round of applause started. I’m not sure who started it. Maybe the other concubines. Maybe the makeup gal. Whatever, in a short time the entire room echoed with the sound of clapping and cheers. Navida looked like he didn’t know whether to be pissed off or pleased.

  Either way, it was totally worth it.

  I sketched a little bow and walked off set.

  Randy caught up with me as I reached our hidey-hole.

  “Oh my God, Lee, that was amazing,” he enthused as he followed me inside.

  I shot him a sideways glance. “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Hell, no. If you hadn’t taken Axel down, I was gonna have to do something after the way he went after you. You’d have been seriously hurt if you weren’t so good at what you do.”

  I gave a rueful smile. “If I weren’t good at the fights, he wouldn’t have felt the need to prove something. Of course, it would’ve helped if I’d slept with him, but then I’d have to kill myself.”

  I sat down, unzipping my boots and pulling them off.

  “Did Rock like the new ending?”

  Randy shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, if he wants to reshoot the whole thing he can pay me a shitload more than a hundred bucks a day.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll happen.”

  I tossed the boots into a corner, loosened the lacings on my corset so I could take a full breath, and retrieved my amulet from its pouch.

  “So you think he’ll fire me?” I asked, slipping the leather thong around my neck.

  “I doubt it.” Randy tried manfully not to watch as I pulled an extra-long tank top on over the corset before opening the clasps in front and letting it drop to the floor. “I mean, there are only three days of shooting left, and we, uh…”

  He trailed off as I started to pull off my fishnets. I took pity on him and went behind one of the standing lockers before shucking my stockings and shimmying into a pair of jeans.

  “You were saying?”

  “Oh, yeah. We still need to get the scene where you double Vixenia driving during the chase scene. It’s not like there’s time to find anyone else.”

  I gave a non-committal grunt and slipped into purple Converse high-tops.

  “But we’re done for today, right?”

  Randy looked at his iPhone. “Yeah, it’s nearly eight. They’re getting a couple more bits with Vixenia on her throne, but you’re good to go.”

  Since rush hour was over I could drive up the Pacific Coast Highway and take the back way home. I had great night vision, so the twisty roads leading up and over the Santa Monica Mountains would be a snap.

  “Awesome,” I sighed. “I am so ready to have a beer and get some sleep.”

  Then I looked around at the weapons scattered on the floor and benches and heaved another sigh. Randy caught my glance and shook his head.

  “Uh-uh. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Get some sleep, okay? We’re off tomorrow, so I’ll see you Monday out in Little Rock.”

  “Promise you’ll clean the blades and not just dump ’em in the bags?”

  “Promise.”

  I gave Randy a spontaneous bear hug, surprising us both.

  “You’re not so bad after all, Squid.”

  I left before he could embarrass either of us by saying something mushy. But it was nice discovering someone y
ou thought was an immature douche was just immature.

  Walking upstairs and through the defunct gym, I headed toward the back exit and the parking lot as the sun’s last rays flickered through sealed skylights. The hallway leading out was dim and kinda creepy, especially since everyone else was still downstairs.

  I passed by the upstairs restrooms, then retraced my steps to the women’s room. After all, I had a long drive ahead of me, even though rush hour traffic had passed.

  After I did my business, I splashed cold water on my face, patting it dry with my T-shirt as there were no paper towels in the dispenser. I looked tired and I had a faint red mark on one cheek where Axel had “accidentally” smacked me with his forearm during rehearsal. The bruise on my forearm was now a nice shade of green, blending into purple, with a knot in the center. A nice reminder of what I’d put up with to do my job.

  I had to wonder how much of this type of crap I’d avoided being part of Sean’s inner circle for all these years, or if I’d just gotten exceptionally unlucky with Steel Legions and Axel.

  At least Axel has a bruise or two of his own to show off from our last take. The thought made me feel distinctly unprofessional, which pissed me off because it hadn’t been my fault. Well, actually it had. I’d changed the choreography and deliberately slammed the jerk, but he’d practically begged me to teach him a lesson.

  Ah well.

  Picking up my bag, I left the bathroom.

  And walked straight into Axel.

  CHAPTER TEN

  For a moment, I assumed that Axel had just needed to use the men’s room. So I just said, “Excuse me,” and walked past him.

  Or tried to.

  He grabbed my arm, yanked me back, and leered at me.

  “If you don’t want to fight fair, then we can do something else.”

  Fight fair?

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding.” I tried to pull away, and his fingers dug into my bicep like chunks of stone. A brief image of the Thing from Fantastic Four flashed into my mind.

  “You wanna let go of me now, or I’m gonna kick the shit out of you,” I growled.

  Where the hell did that come from? Definitely not the brightest thing to say, considering the circumstances. And not surprisingly, he didn’t let go.

  Instead Axel shoved me back against the wall, holding me there with his forearms against my shoulders, his body pressed up against mine. The smell of body odor was inescapable.

  The worst part? My struggles were turning him on.

  Axel grabbed my jaw, hard, to hold my head in place while he mashed his mouth against mine in the most un-erotic and painful kiss I could remember. Harder is not better, especially when someone’s teeth are grinding into your lips. He finally lifted his head and smirked at me.

  “You know you want it.”

  Being mauled was bad enough. Being forced to listen to bad clichés at the same time?

  So not happening.

  I should have been scared. Any normal person would have been screaming for help at that point, but my fight-or-flight instinct kicked over into fight without hesitation.

  My bag still clutched tightly in my right hand, I swung it up and around, hitting him in the kidneys as hard as I could. He gave a surprised grunt of pain and let go of me. I should have left it at that and hightailed it out of there, but fueled by self-righteous anger, I swung out again with the bag and followed that with a knee aimed at his groin. The bag glanced smartly off his chin, but he easily blocked my knee with one hand and took advantage of the moment to grab both my wrists and slam me back against the wall.

  The bag went flying, and the back of my neck started itching.

  WTF?

  “Stupid bitch!” He punctuated his words by slamming me against the wall again. His skin darkened, a rich crimson suffusing his face, neck, and arms. Not just a flush of anger, but actual crimson, as if Ted Turner decided to colorize him. Veins stood out on his temples, pulsing and undulating like worms crawled under his skin. Blunt points bulged out on either side of his forehead, stretching the skin without quite breaking it.

  Navida had been wrong. Axel was definitely not human.

  He let go of my wrists and grabbed my shoulders, lifting me off the ground so that my feet dangled in the air, and slammed me against the wall yet again, pressing his groin into mine so I could feel his arousal, which was larger than it should have been.

  A weird and powerful jolt of energy surged through my body. Like someone had thrust a lightning rod at the base of my skull and lightning had hit with a vengeance. The back of my neck itched so badly it felt like fire ants. Fury swept over me like a vengeful wind and I suddenly knew I could win.

  I shoved my hands against Axel’s pecs and pushed, treasuring the surprise on his face as he stumbled back a step and released his grip on my shoulders.

  “In what country,” I demanded, “is this considered foreplay?”

  I kneed him in his freakishly substantial groin. He didn’t expect it this time around. When he doubled over, I slammed my elbow against his temple, hitting that soft sweet spot just right. Axel hit the ground face-first with a satisfying crunch, one that hopefully injured his manly bits.

  More energy surged through me, the King Kong of adrenaline rushes. I felt invincible. I had to stop myself from kicking him in the face. Part of me, a very dark part, wanted to feel his jaw break, or even better, find a blunt object and smash his skull in.

  I could kill him, I thought. I should kill him. People would thank me. But I held the impulse back by sheer will and common sense. No way I was gonna let this fucker send me to jail.

  So I stood over his prone body, feeling an almost irresistible urge to beat my chest and give a primal yell, like Tarzan or Arnold in Predator.

  Oh, the hell with it.

  I let the yell come roaring out, a sound of ferocious triumph that echoed up and down the hallway. I did not, however, beat my chest.

  “Holy shit, are you okay?”

  I whirled around to see the blonde in the pink teddy, now dressed in street clothes, hurrying up the hallway toward me. Megan, the makeup gal, was close behind her.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  I took a step or two away from Axel’s prone body, then suddenly staggered, clutching the wall for support as the energy surge vanished in as big a hurry as it had arrived.

  Megan and the blonde pulled me away from the wall toward the back door, stopping only so Megan could scoop up my bag. My last glimpse of Axel was of him lying on the floor where I’d left him, a confused look on his unconscious face. You could almost see the thought balloon, “Where girl go?” along with chirping birds.

  “Are you okay?” the blonde said again. She looked me up and down, then glared back at Axel as we went out the door. “Fucking Priaptic demon,” she muttered just loudly enough for me to hear.

  Priaptic demon?

  The door closed behind us with a metallic clunk.

  “Check her head for lumps,” Megan instructed. “She may have a concussion.”

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” I assured her, even though I still felt kind of dizzy. “My car’s the Saturn over there. If we could just—”

  “You cannot be fine,” Megan said with equal parts concern and exasperation. “That jerk was tossing you against the wall like a racquetball! I mean, you’re probably experiencing both delayed shock and guilt transference.”

  What?

  “No, really, I’m—”

  “That’s when the victim of an assault reacts by blaming herself in some way for the attack.”

  “I’m not—”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Just cry and let it out. Society’s to blame, you know, because—”

  I raised a hand. “Okay, stop.”

  Megan did.

  “I don’t feel guilty,” I said earnestly. “In fact, I’d say my only regret is not smashing the asshat’s head in.”

  There was a brief silence as Megan processed this new information.

  “Oh
.” Another pause while she switched lanes in her brain. “Oh. Well… that’s a good thing.”

  “With a tire iron,” I added helpfully.

  “That’s a very healthy reaction.”

  “With spikes on it.”

  “That’s—”

  “Kind of homicidal, if you ask me,” the blonde cut in. I smiled and nodded.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, yes,” Megan said a little nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, under the circumstances, of course!”

  “The only reason I didn’t smash his head in,” I added, “is because Axel still has scenes to finish. And I doubt Rock would pay for reshoots with a different actor. Gotta be professional, y’know?”

  That shut Megan right up. The blonde took pity on her.

  “Maybe you could grab Lee some water or a soda?”

  Megan nodded eagerly. “Sure! I’ll be right back.” She set my bag down by my feet. I reached out and grabbed her by the hand.

  “Don’t tell anyone what happened, okay?” I said.

  “You don’t want me to get Randy?”

  “No. I don’t want Randy to lose his job, which’ll happen if he tries to beat the shit out of Axel. Plus I don’t know if he’d win or not, so let’s just leave him out of it.”

  “But we have to tell Rock what happened.”

  I shook my head. “Rock comes out here and sees his star lying on the ground, I’m not gonna get any sympathy. Hopefully Axel’s learned his lesson.” Megan looked dubious, but nodded and disappeared back into the building.

  I picked up my bag and took a step toward my car. Sweat sprung up on my forehead and I knew if I didn’t sit down, I’d fall down. As the parking lot and surrounding buildings swayed side to side, I sat down on the asphalt and dropped my head onto my knees.

  The blonde sat next to me.

  “You okay?”

  “Will be.”

  I waited until things stopped moving, hoping Axel didn’t revive and come looking for me in the meantime. Took a few deep breaths, then looked at the blonde.

  “I’m kind of embarrassed because you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

  She smiled, a big, genuine smile showing lots of—but not too many—white teeth. “Eden. Eden Carmel.” She pronounced “Carmel” with the emphasis on the second syllable, like the town Carmel by the Sea, and not like the confection. “And I just know your first name.”