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It started with a whisper you heard while in line at a coffee shop, a story you probably should have ignored.
“You’re here because of a story,” she says. “Now I’m going to tell you another one.”
someone called the Watch Man. Supposedly, there are signs that lead to him around Los Angeles. If you follow the signs and you manage to find him, you can ask him the time, and the Watch Man will tell you when you’ll die.”
It almost felt like magic. Not big, miraculous magic but the simple magic of timeless things. Of two-dollar bills and handwritten letters, typewriters and rotary phones.
The next morning arrived slowly, reluctant to perform a job it had grown tired of doing.
“Made of cognac and citrus, the sidecar has been around for over a century, and if you buy one of these for the devil, he’ll give you one of his business cards. Each card may be used only once for an appointment with the devil, where you can make a deal for whatever you want, and then—”
Around this time, Saint, who had taken a break from acting to spend time with her and Benjamin’s twin daughters, made her grand return to Hollywood by starring in the gritty 2010 drama Conclavity. This film earned Isla Saint her first Academy Award. It’s said she cried during her entire acceptance speech. You tried to find the speech online, but there are no recordings of it. When you looked for it, you found videos of everyone else who won an Oscar. But all that came up for Isla Saint were articles about how, that same night—February 27, 2011—she murdered her husband. Even before reading the
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All three of these deaths are part of a cover-up, a bit of misdirection, to hide the real reason Isla and Ben were killed.”
Hollywood was not built on dreams, it was built on favors from the devil, and the devil does not handle it well when those favors aren’t paid back.”
Lucifer. Bringer of light. That’s what the name meant, which made Holland think the devil would look golden. Skin that ranged from tan to bronze. Hair that could be either gold or blond. Light eyes—she wasn’t certain of the color, but she knew they would be beautiful. Suddenly she had a picture of Adam Bishop, smirking at her over a cocktail glass.
“Now be a good girl and get in the car.” He opened the passenger door. Interior lights glowed, revealing a guy who could have been the reason you had to warn women they weren’t supposed to go off with strangers. He had an attractive face, wore an impeccable suit, and his square jaw was covered in just the right amount of dark stubble.
Even if this man knew her sister, he felt like a wolf in a suit, and she didn’t want to be his Little Red Riding Hood.
It felt like the sort of night that, even once it passed, would never fully wash away. And yet, she also felt as if she was already losing pieces of it.
“That’s why you were driving like a maniac earlier.” “No, that’s just how I drive,” he replied.
Then he pointed at the larger image on the journal. “This is the symbol for the Alchemical Heart.”
You already have everything you need. You just have to see it.
“I’m not really known for my sense of humor, sweetheart.”
