Prologue

      Comic Con, Los Angeles

      Blood-bone stepped out onto the show floor, his massive black cape sweeping around him, his supercharged sword lighting up the space around him in all colors of the rainbow. The black-masked and black-suited villain was from the new cable show Wolfson, which was topping ratings charts across the nation.

      The character of Lars Wolfson, the hero of the show, had made several appearances that day as well, some costumes better than others.

      But just as they liked to say women love bad boys, people of both sexes and all ages seemed to really love a good villain.

      Young men and women, children, old men and old women clapped and all but swooned and rushed over to him. Blood-bone was the most popular new villain to grace the pages of comic books since the beginning of the written-and-drawn comic world.

      He suddenly cried out, “Those who oppose me—pay! They pay the ultimate price.”

      The crowd around the actor—or would-be actor, dressed up for Comic Con—grew substantially, people everywhere snapping photos.

      “We bow to you, Blood-bone!” the crowd called out in turn.

      “Jerk,” Cara Barton declared beneath her breath.

      “He’s just playing, creating a good show,” Marnie Davante said.

      “Lord, who are you? Pollyanna? Mary Poppins?” Cara asked her, letting out a long sigh.

      “He’s just playing. Let him entertain. Relax. Try to have fun,” Marnie said, offering Cara her beautiful and natural smile.

      Marnie. She was the type who would make the best of it.

      Cara wished that she could. But it was dismal.

      No. It was beyond dismal. Continuing to plug a show that had been off the air for ages, just because she had no other options.

      And still, sitting at their booth, Cara smiled as graciously as she could. It was a smile that she’d practiced over the years, yet still felt plastered into place.

      “How’s this?” she asked Marnie.

      “Grim, but it will do,” her friend said, laughing.

      Grim. Yes.

      However, Cara kept smiling.

      * * *

       It was amazing; it was an unbelievable thrill. He was able to watch as if he were a fly on the wall, as if he were at a screening, seeing it all unfold. He knew the angles from which the cameras would be rolling; he could just see it all.

       And he was the puppeteer. He was the producer, the director...