Page 49 of Alchemy of Secrets

Holland wasn’t sure if Vic VanVleet had ever made a deal with the devil, if she had a really good skin care routine, or if she was simply a believer in plastic surgery, but she looked as if she hadn’t aged in over twenty-five years.

“You must be one of the Tierney twins,” Vic said. “I would recognize Ben’s daughters anywhere. Which one are you? January or Holland?”

“Um… Holland,” she said, surprised, although she supposed she shouldn’t have been, since Vic still had a picture of Holland’s father in her office. The photo Holland was still holding.

Vic appeared to notice it then, or maybe she’d noticed it right away. Holland had the feeling that very little got past this woman. Vic probably went to bed in crisply ironed white sheets and woke up looking sharp enough for a photo shoot.

And yet, everything about her softened as her eyes drifted down to the photo. “You’re probably wondering why I have that in here.”

If she’d been anyone else, Holland would have just said yes to be agreeable, but Vic VanVleet seemed like the sort of woman who appreciated it when people left out the pleasantries and bullshit. “Because you were Victoria Monroe. My dad’s first love.”

Now it was Vic’s turn to look surprised.

“A-plus to you,” she said. “I’m not too proud to admit I never stopped loving him.

When I inherited this bungalow, the photo was inside the desk.

I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.

Ben was a brilliant filmmaker and a good person.

I wish I could say the same for your bitch mother. ”

Holland flinched. And then her hands clenched into fists. She had always been closer to her father, but she loved her mother in a way that made it painful for her to think about. Isla wasn’t on her mind nearly as much as Ben, but she felt viciously protective of them both.

“There was something about your mother that didn’t sit right with me, you know, even before she stole my fiancé. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead—”

“Then don’t,” Adam interrupted. “I think Holland has been through enough.” He gave Vic a withering look, but it only seemed to harden her resolve.

“Hiding from the truth doesn’t help anyone,” Vic spat.

And now there was a nasty gleam in her eyes that made Holland feel as if she and Adam needed to get out of there with the hold slip quickly.

Vic reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“You know, I wonder what the press would think if they heard Ben Tierney and Isla Saint’s unhinged daughter broke into my bungalow.

Or maybe I should call the police first, and then the press? ”

“Don’t do that—” Holland said.

But Vic was already pressing buttons. The phone was on speaker, and Holland could hear someone answer. Then Adam was grabbing Vic’s wrist.

Her eyes went distant, just like Cat’s had.

Adam hung up Vic’s call and looked at Holland nervously.

It was still terrifying to watch him use his magic, but this time she didn’t feel any guilt. “It’s okay.”

A hint of his familiar smirk returned. “I’m not actually asking for permission. I need you to leave for this one.”

“But—”

“If you’re here, I’m going to be tempted to rewrite more of her memories than I should.” Adam’s fingers tightened on Vic’s slim wrist. “Please, Holland, go.”

Holland didn’t make him ask a third time. She dropped the photo of Vic and Ben and quietly left the bungalow.

She waited around the corner, standing in the shade next to a fountain she was fairly certain she’d seen in the background of a dozen movies.

According to her watch, it was now 4:37. Poor Cat must have been wondering what had happened to them.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Now Holland was also starting to worry about Adam. Why hadn’t he come out of the bungalow yet? It had only taken him seconds to use his ability with Cat and the others at the hotel. Holland wondered if maybe something had gone wrong.

Then, finally, Adam emerged.

He jogged around the corner, holding keys to a golf cart. “Courtesy of my new friend, Vic VanVleet.”

Adam didn’t tell Holland exactly how he had managed to get the keys, but she could see that the encounter with Vic seemed to have cost him. His face had lost some of its color and his brow was damp, though the latter might have just been from the heat.

It was late enough in the day that the studio was starting to empty out as Adam drove the golf cart toward the props department warehouse.

The building looked large enough to house a plane.

Holland could hear a low rumble as they started up the stairs, the noise growing louder as they neared the door. Two large industrial fans were blowing air into a room that made her feel as if she was stepping into a bazaar that existed only in the world of movies.

Bicycles hung from the ceiling, there were bookshelves full of busts, and a giant golden turtle rested on the ground.

Another wall was entirely covered in ceramic hands posed in various positions—open palm, thumbs up, middle finger.

On the floor in front of them was an enormous ceramic right foot.

There was a crystal chandelier shaped like a pirate ship, a statue of Poseidon, a Vespa, and a grand piano.

Holland recognized a row of masks from an unfortunate movie she’d watched on an even more unfortunate date.

The head of the props department was standing in front of a sweaty-looking tour group, telling them about the taxidermy animals. “If you see one of these at the start of a scene”—he motioned to a small collection of taxidermy wolves—“you’re probably meeting a villain.”

Every tourist pulled out their phone and took pictures, before the man concluded the tour with a Happy Halloween , followed by goodbye .

A half dozen selfies later, Holland, Adam, and the head of the props department were the only people left.

The prop guy had longish gray hair tied back in a ponytail and more smile lines than anyone else in Hollywood. He turned to Holland and Adam with a look that said he was about to kindly kick them out. But then he seemed to think better of it. “You look familiar,” he said to Holland. “Have we met?”

He had the kind of smile that tempted Holland to ask if he’d known her dad. The man definitely looked old enough. But after the way Vic VanVleet had responded, she hesitated.

“I don’t think so,” Holland said. Then she introduced herself and Adam.

“I’m Tom,” said the man.

“How long have you been at JME?” she asked.

“Oh.” He rubbed a bit of the gray stubble on his jaw. “I’ve been here about thirty-nine years.”

“So, you must have known Benjamin Tierney?” she said.

His smile could have lit up the entire warehouse. “Of course, I knew Ben. I met him on his first film.”

“ Time Warrior ?” asked Holland.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that? That film never even made it to theaters.”

“We’re film students,” Holland lied, taking a page from Adam’s book. “I’m writing my thesis on Ben Tierney.”

Holland had never been good at lies, and she felt as if Tom was seeing right through her.

But then his friendly smile returned. “Ben was the real deal. Smart. Cared about storytelling. In my opinion, he was the kind of visionary storyteller that comes around once in a lifetime. But… I’m guessing you two are here for more than my anecdotes, since I just gave a lot of those on the tour. ”

“We were wondering if you could help with this.” Holland offered him the hold slip.

Tom rubbed his jaw. “Where did you find this?” He looked back at Holland. Really looked at her. The kind of stare that made her go still, as if he was taking a mental photograph. It lasted so long, she was almost certain he’d figured out who she was.

A part of her wanted him to. She wanted to hear stories that he might not tell a pair of random students but might share with Ben’s daughter.

“I found it,” Adam finally said.

Tom looked at him with a hint of alarm, as if noticing him for the first time.

Adam gave the prop master a self-deprecating smile, which seemed to put him more at ease. But Holland swore that Tom continued to look a little baffled as Adam said, “My dad was a huge film collector, and this was in the back of a framed photo of Ben. But we don’t know what it’s for.”

“It’s a hold slip,” Tom explained. There was a slight wobble in his voice, but it went away as he continued.

“We don’t exclusively rent props to people at JME.

Anyone in the industry can rent whatever they want, as long they have the right permits and insurance.

Slips like these are used to hold the items until they can be picked up. ”

“Do you know what this slip was used to hold?” Holland asked.

Tom rubbed his chin again. “I don’t know what it was used for—if it was even used for anything.

These instructions are kind of strange and I’ve never heard of this film before.

But I do remember the last time Ben Tierney came in here.

It was shortly before he died. I remember because that was the final time I saw him, and he made an unusual request.”

“What was it?” asked Holland.

“It’s better if I show you. You two okay with a little walk?”