Slawter

“Nah,” I smile. “You’d wreck the room. Don’t worry about it. I’ll sleep with one ear open. I’ll see you don’t come to harm.”

Dervish reaches over, squeezes my hand, then shuffles off for the stairs and bed. I watch until he turns the corner. Stay for a while, thinking about Bill-E, the Lambs, demons, the mysterious Disciples. Then I start clearing up the photos and hanging the less tattered snapshots back on their pegs, knowing I won’t be able to sleep.

→ Tired. Finding it hard to stay awake. My friends want to know if there are any David A Haym updates, but I only grunt at their questions. Studying Bill-E during lunch. Thinking about him in the hands of the Lambs, strapped to a table, hooked up to banks of electrodes. Can’t let that happen. I faced Lord Loss for my brother. If Prae Athim tries anything with Bill-E, she won’t just have to worry about Dervish and the Disciples — she’ll have to deal with me.

Yeah, I know, she’s hardly trembling with terror at the thought of having to go up against a teenager. But I’m big. And I can be nasty. If I have to.

→ A limousine’s parked in the drive when I get home. A chauffeur sits behind the wheel, dozing. No prizes for guessing who the limo belongs to.

I hear her as soon as I push open the front doors. She’s in the TV room. A loud voice, high-pitched, very theatrical. She’s talking about one of her earlier movies – it might be Zombie Zest – telling Dervish about the problems she faced trying to get the look of the monsters right.

“…but everybody’s using CGI these days! I don’t like it. The audience can tell. They’re not afraid. It’s psychological. You see a guy in a monster costume, or a cleverly designed puppet, and even though you know it’s not real, you can trick yourself into believing it is. But if you see something that’s the work of a computer, your brain can’t accept it. It doesn’t scare you. I think…”

I walk into the room and cough softly. Davida Haym looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch. A surprisingly normal-looking woman. Fiftyish. Black hair streaked with grey. Pudgy. A warm smile. Purple-rimmed glasses. A bright flowery dress. She looks more like a giggling granny than a horror-movie meister.

“Davida, this is my nephew, Grubbs,” Dervish introduces us. He’s sitting beside her on the couch, looking a bit overwhelmed — I have the feeling Davida hasn’t stopped talking since she came in. “Grubbs lives with me.”

“Hello, Grubbs,” Davida says, rising to shake my hand. A short woman. Barely comes up to my chest. “Neat name. Is it short for something?”

“Grubitsch,” I mutter. “I’m a big fan of yours. I thought Night Mayors was the best horror film of the last ten years.”

“Why, thank you!” Davida booms, not releasing my hand. “Although, to be honest, my input wasn’t so great. The director – Liam Fitz – is a real hardhead. Likes to make the creative decisions himself. I set him off, gave him whatever he asked for, but after that…” She shrugs, still holding my hand.

“And this is June,” Dervish says, drawing my attention to a third person in the room, sitting in a chair to my left.

“Juni,” she corrects him, getting up. “Juni Swan.” Davida Haym finally releases my fingers and I shake hands with the other woman. She’s small too, but slightly taller than Davida. Thin. Pretty. White hair, very pale skin, pinkish eyes. An albino. Her hair’s tied back in a ponytail. Hard to tell her age because her skin’s so white and smooth.

“Juni is Miss Haym’s assistant,” Dervish says.

“Davida,” the producer corrects him. She tuts loudly. “I don’t stand on ceremony.”

“And I’m not her assistant,” Juni says, almost apologetically. She speaks very softly. “Although I am here to assist.”

“Let’s sit down,” Davida says, as if this was her house. She leads us back to the chairs and pats the space on the couch beside her, forcing me to sit with her and Dervish. “I’ve been telling your uncle about my problems on my other movies. As I’m sure you know – I can tell you’re a horror buff – I love monsters. LOVE them! Fangs, tentacles, bulging eyes, slime… all great stuff, right? Right! But getting them to look real… believable… scare people to the max… that’s hard as hell. But I’m telling you nothing new. You’ve seen loads of terrible monster flicks, I’m sure. Where the creatures are about as scary as a baby in a pram?”

“Yeah,” I grin. “Most horror films are crap. That’s why they’re fun.”

“I agree!” Davida shouts. She thumps Dervish’s knee so hard that he gasps. “I like this kid! He knows his nettles from his roses!” She turns back to me. “We all love schlocky horror, where the effects are lame and the monsters tame. I grew up on old Universal and Hammer pictures! And that’s fine. Sometimes you just want to sit down to a corny bit of hokum and have a laugh.”

She raises a finger and lowers her voice. “But there are times when you don’t want to laugh, right? When you want to be scared, when you want your world turned upside-down, when you want to sit there in the dark and really feel fear bite. Right?”

“Hell, yeah!” There was a period, after my battles with Lord Loss and his familiars, when I didn’t enjoy horror. Life was fearful enough. But as the months passed, and the memories of the real horror faded, I rediscovered my love of fictional terror.

“That’s where I want to go with my next movie,” Davida says, loud again. “I’ve been off the scene for a while — almost four years since my last film. That’s because I’ve been researching and planning. I want to do something BIG with my next one, not rehash an older story. I want screams, not laughs. I want to go for the jugular and shake audiences up, send them home shivering.”

“Coolio!” I exclaim.

“Which is where your uncle comes in.” Davida smoothes down her skirt and turns her smile on Dervish. “Will we talk business now or do you want to wait?”

“Now’s good for me,” Dervish says.

“OK.” Davida glances around, to be sure nobody’s eavesdropping. “I’m about to shoot my new film. Everything’s set. I’m not only producing — I’ve written the script and I’m directing too. Can you imagine? Me — a director!” She throws her head back and laughs. Dervish and I laugh too, even though we’ve no idea what the joke is.

“I’ve kept the project secret,” Davida continues. “I keep quiet about all my films, but I’ve been especially hush-hush on this one. Everyone connected has signed a lips-sealed contract. The monster designs are locked in a state-of-the-art safe, and only two other people beside myself have seen them in their entirety — everybody else gets a small piece to work on. We won’t be shooting in any of the established studios. I’ve created my own, far away from prying eyes. Most people aren’t even aware that I’m at work again — they think I’m sitting on my ass on a beach, twiddling my thumbs, creatively defunct.”

“Sounds like you’ve given yourself a lot of headaches,” Dervish says.

“Are you kidding?” Davida snorts. “I’m having a ball! It’s the film I’ve always wanted to make. I love intrigue, suspense, secrets. It’s a game, the best in the world, and I’m the only one who knows all the rules. I wouldn’t trade places with anybody right now, not for anything.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Dervish says. “But I don’t see why…?” He leaves the question hanging.

“Why I’m telling you?” Davida looks at me and winks. “Why I’m telling the two of you.” She lowers her voice again. I don’t think she’s capable of whispering, but this is as close as she gets. “What I say now has to remain between us. I haven’t asked you to sign a confidentiality form yet – you’ll have to do it later, if you agree to my offer – but from what I’ve heard, you’re a man of your word. I’m not sure about Grubbs…”

“I can keep a secret,” I huff. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Excellent.” She gives my right knee a squeeze and almost crushes it. “So, when I ask you to keep what I’m about to say to yourselves, not tell anybody, even your best friends… can I trust you?”

“I won’t speak, even under torture,” Dervish laughs.

“Me neither,” I back him up.

“Great!” Davida beams. “Then listen close and keep it quiet. The film’s called Slawter.”

“Slaughter!” I echo. “Brilliant!”

“I think so too,” Davida chuckles. “Slawter – which is spelt with a ‘w’ instead of a ‘ugh’ – is the name of the town in the movie. A bit obvious maybe, but I’ve always liked a gruesomely OTT play on words. I think it’ll look great on the posters — ‘Welcome to Slawter!’ or ‘Let the Slawter commence!’” She squints. “Maybe we’ll have to work on the tagline, but you get the picture. Now, here’s the good part, the reason I’m here, and the bit I know you’re going to love the best. Slawter is going to be all about…demons!”

She sits back, grinning, and awaits our response, unaware that she’s just dropped the mother of all bombshells.

→ Davida can’t understand why we’re not excited. Doesn’t know what to make of our shifty glances and awkward silence. She keeps talking about the movie. Tells us that demons take over the town of Slawter. She describes some of the characters and scenes. Dervish and I listen stiffly.

“OK,” Davida finally says, “what’s wrong?” She sniffs at her armpits. “Do I stink?”

Dervish forces a thin smile. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s just… We’re not fond of demons, are we, Grubbs?”

“No,” I grunt.

“Why not?” Davida asks. “Demons are the scariest monsters of the lot.”

“Too scary,” Dervish mutters, then laughs edgily.

Davida frowns. “But you’re supposed to be a demon expert. The more I research, the more your name crops up. I’ve been told you know all about their ways, their habits, their appearance.”

“You’re talking about them as if they were real,” Juni Swan chuckles.

“Of course they’re not real,” Davida snorts. “But there have been loads of stories and legends about demons, plenty of descriptions and paintings, and Dervish knows more about them than most. He has some of the hardest-to-find demonic books and manuscripts in the world. Right?”

“I know more than many, not as much as some,” Dervish answers cagily. “What I can say is, demons aren’t to be taken lightly. If you want to make stuff up, go ahead, use your imagination, have fun. But I suspect you want to do more than that.”