Marcus gazed longingly at the grey flickering images. Captive ghosts were only too happy to entertain once more, moving to the clattering rhythm of the old projector. Marcus' eyes studied the frozen dance of one character's face and movement, and then the frozen voice of another, falling in love with each and every one yet again. He committed everything he saw to memory so that he could reconstruct it later in his mind.
"Hi Marcus. You're here early." Julie had come up, bringing him some tea.
"Just previewing the reel," Marcus told her.
"Always the perfectionist, eh?" Julie remarked. Marcus pretty much guessed that she knew that this was an excuse to watch it again. "Well, you'd better cut it short. That high school film class is here."
She glanced at the open can of brand-name vegetable shortening with a spoon sticking out of it. "Really, Marcus," she commented. "I don't see how you can stand eating that stuff like that. It can't be good for you."
Marcus stopped the projector and put the first reel back on. Julie looked at the other projectors, filled with the latest run of avant garde indies and foreign films, ready for that night's shows. Marcus opened a bottle of Tabasco and sprinkled it into his tea when Julie wasn't looking. Peeking into the theatre, he saw several high school students file in, organizing themselves into cliques or moving to the periphery while the teacher and his cadre sat up front. When everything was ready to go, Marcus dimmed the lights and started the movie. The Selznick logo appeared and then faded into the dream sequence and opening music. As Joan Fontaine's entry monologue started, Marcus cracked open another can of shortening and while he was eating it, he was soon transported with Joan's character back to the south of France and the sound of crashing waves.
"Julie just shook her head. "You're an odd one, all right." She looked at him strangely, as if wanting to ask him something. Thinking better of it, she just said, I'll catch you after the show."
But Marcus didn't respond. He was fascinated by Edythe Van Hopper, who was speaking just then. Julie smiled, and shook her head. There was so much about Marcus that was terribly strange, but anyone who would work for minimum wage with no benefits and was always available, well, one was best not to ask questions. Even if they did look like... Julie took one last look, sighed and left Marcus to his romantic celluloid dreams.
But he was only alone for a moment. "Hello Angie," he spoke to the darkness, not moving his eyes away from the screen. Joan Fontaine was speaking just then about memories in bottles. It was a lovely moment that spoke personally to Marcus and he had to see it once more.
"Hello Marcus. Which one is it now?" Angela sat down next to him.
Marcus smiled. "Rebecca." As if that were enough, he went back to his reverent silence.
"Marcus, we need to talk. Sarah has a job for us."
"Really?"
"Yes, Sarah has gotten herself in a bit of trouble. Haven't you seen the papers?"
"Hmm, no. I never read the papers." Marcus hadn't stopped watching the movie. "Sarah, that's too funny. What does she want us to do?"
"We need to break into the KSSC news station down in Pajaro. Sarah was taped when those infernals ran over her. She was also photographed but she's running damage control on those now. A few snuck through to the papers but we've managed to destroy or buy up the rest."
"Stealing, hmm. I wonder what the Boss is thinking about this. I take it this is the only way?"
"So Sarah says. She managed to suppress the story for a day by promising to tell the reporter everything about us, in return for the tape and any copies. But she left a loophole that if the reporter doesn't have the tape, Sarah doesn't have to give the interview."
"Hmm, well I have to work tonight. But I suppose I can leave this fellow here on auto and can meet you later, as long as I'm back for the reel change. Who else is coming"
"Not Sarah. She has to be conspicuously elsewhere when the break-in happens. She's having dinner with a Judge and his wife."
At the mention of dinner, Marcus helped himself to some more vegetable shortening. He offered some to Angela, who declined. Marcus took a sip of tea, and deciding it needed something more, continued to tap more hot sauce into it.
"Daria is sending you, me, Benefice, and a couple of heavies from out of town that she's bringing in for this mission. One's a throne named Vargas, the other is a virtue named Dio. Do you know them?"
"I've heard of them. Vargas is a cleaner. He specializes in this sort of thing. Dio is a nasty piece of work, a real heavyweight. Daria must be expecting some trouble if she's sending all of us and bringing in the pros."
"I think you can plan that the other side was expecting us to make a move, and probably set the whole thing up. They positioned that reporter to be there in the first place, since Sarah and I have a weekly lunch at the Perg."
"Well, I'll be there. Still, I don't think we should take Benefice. He's not much help in a fight and probably would only get in the way. And I would hate to see anything happen to him."
"As would I. But we are here to serve." She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll use him for lookout and keep him out of the way."
Angela looked at Marcus in the half-light spilling from the projector's lense.
"So this your new vessel? I don't think I've seen it yet."
She could see that Marcus was smiling, his teeth displayed grey in the near dark. "I've been waiting to show you, but you never come by. I hope you like it. I was thinking of you when I composed it."
"I hardly ever go to films," Angela offered in way of an apology.
"Movies," Marcus corrected her. "Film is the medium. Only pretentious assholes like our dear Sarah insist on calling it film. Call them what they are, moving film, movies." He walked over to the doorway leading to the stairs down to the lobby. Opening the door, enough light spilled through that Angela could see Marcus' face.
Angela's jaw dropped.
His disappointment was obvious. "I thought you'd like it. I took it from that surfer movie, the one about that F.B.I. guy that goes undercover. I thought it was a pretty nice face. I even did what you said, and altered the appearance. See, the hair is longer."
"Oh, it's great," Angela agreed. "But don't you think it's a bit too, um, contemporary. I mean, this fellow is really recognizable. Even I know him."
"Oh, I see." Marcus tried not to show his disappointment. "Maybe you're right. I was noticing that my boss keeps on giving me some strange looks."
"Better keep this pretty face in the dark up here. Sarah is already on you about Albert and that debacle last year. Thank the Boss it happened on Halloween. She wants me to hand you a memo but I tossed it."
"Figures. Sarah and her memos. I hope she remembers to sing herself one for all this mess. And being Daria's pet, she won't get into any trouble for it."
"Don't count on it. Daria might not be open about how she's going to deal with this, but I'm sure Sarah is in for a drubbing."
"You really should watch some more movies," Marcus suggested. "They don't say 'drubbing' anymore."
Angie crinkled her nose. "Really? Oh drats!" At the look on Marcus' face, she added. "I was kidding."
"I'll walk you down," Marcus told her. "I've seen this movie six times this week." He led her down to the empty lobby, cathedral in splendour with sun pouring through the windows onto the faded worn carpet.
"Planning on composing a new vessel?"
Marcus smiled. "Well, I've never made a Lawrence Olivier before. But I was thinking of maybe Judith Anderson. I don't do enough of the actresses."
"Who are you bringing tonight?"
"I was thinking of Rock." Angie shook her head. "Humphrey? Marylin? James? Elvis?"
To each, Angie shook her head again. "I don't know, maybe if you remember to change how they dress and give them some new hairstyles, maybe punk with tatoos and piercings," she suggested, trying to be helpful around this sensitive subject.
Marcus looked shocked. "But they're works of art! You can't suggest..."
"I'll leave it up to you, Marcus. But remember, the last thing Daria wants is to hear about a James Dean sighting in Santa Cruz. Speaking of which, I meant to ask you. What did you do with Albert? And where do you keep all these vessels when you're not in them. They're not out running around on auto are they?"
"Well, some are," Marcus confessed. "It's good to keep a few handy. Though I keep most, including Albert, over in a mausoleum at the cemetery."
"A mausoleum? Whose?"
"The Crowne family. Yes, I know they're the town's rich first family. But its secure, roomy and dry, and no one comes to visit unless its to drop off another empty coffin. It turns out, some of the bodies are missing. In fact, some crypts in look like they've never been used, ever, or hardly ever. I've got Albert stashed in Agnes Crowne's coffin. Silk lining. Very nice."
Angela shrugged indifferently. There was a mystery there, but nothing to do with her, she figured.
"Keanu!" Several young girls who had snuck out outside for a cigarette saw Marcus and pointed, shrieking. "Keanu!" They rushed to get back in through the wrong door, but it was locked. They were screaming and pointing at him, yelling for autographs. It looked like they were going to break the door down.
"See what I mean?" Angela nodded. "Go ahead and duck back and I'll cover for you."
Marcus ran back up and locked the door to the projection booth. He did not have to worry. Whatever Angela told them, it was enough to send them off, though he could hear some muttered whispers down in the theatre below. Other than popping out into some of his other vessels now and then to motivate them, he spent most of his time in Marcus, which he had to confess was his new favorite, supplanting James Dean. Cracking open another can of hydrogenated shortening, he settled in to watch Judith Anderson and Joan Fontaine squaring off in the Morning Room.
story by Solanio