Slawter

by Darren Shan

  a smug wink when I catch Bo’s furious eye.

  They shoot the early scenes several times, from a variety of angles. A fake corpse is placed in the alley, close to the manhole cover. Emmet starts the scene crouched over it, pulling bits off and stuffing them in his mouth. He’s so convincing, it’s hilarious, and Salit keeps laughing when he comes upon him.

  “‘Matt!’” he cries, calling Emmet by his screen name. “‘What are you doing with Mr. Litherland’s nose in your...’ Sorry!” he shouts, doubling over. “I can’t help it! He looks so crazy!”

  “Don’t worry,” Davida says, smiling patiently. “We have all night. Keep trying. The joke will wear thin eventually.” She grimaces at a cameraman. “I hope!”

  Salit finally gets through his lines without laughing and they move on to the next scene. The cameras and lights are redirected, the makeup artists make sure Salit and Emmet are looking the way they should, Davida has a last few words with Emmet, then they’re ready to go.

  “OK, people,” an assistant director yells. “We’re going to try and get this right the first time, so we want absolute quiet!”

  When everyone settles down, the technicians do their final checks, Davida looks around slowly from one member of the crew to another, then nods. A man calls out the title, scene, and take, and snaps the traditional clapperboard shut.

  “And... action!” Davida roars.

  “‘How could you do it?’” Salit cries, in his role as Bobby Mint, boy-hero.

  “‘What?’” Emmet protests. “‘It’s not as if anyone liked Mr. Litherland.’”

  “‘But he’s human!’” Salit cries.

  “‘He was,’” Emmet corrects him. “‘He’s yummy for my tummy now!’” Emmet rubs his stomach with a sick laugh. “‘I’ve always wanted to eat human flesh. I mean, it’s not an obsession or anything. I wouldn’t go out of my way to kill, skin, and cook somebody. But I’ve always been curious, wondered what it would taste like. So, when the opportunity dropped into my lap, yeah, I took it. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think so. At least, not much badder than a guy who gives in to temptation and steals a candy bar. It’s not like I killed him myself.’”

  “‘But you let it happen!’” Salit cries. “‘You knew about the demon!’”

  Emmet shrugs. “‘What’s done is done. No point crying over spilled milk — or a butchered headmaster.’” He holds out severed, bloodied arm to Salit. “‘You should try some, Bobby. You might like it. It...’” The ground begins to rumble. A foul stench fills the air. For a second, Emmet falters and his gaze flicks to the open manhole. Then he recovers and continues like a true professional. “‘It goes down super sweet, especially if you add a dollop of ketchup. Tastes a bit like —’”

  That’s when the demon bursts out of the manhole and grabs him.

  It happens in a blur, and is so fast, so violent, so shocking, that several people in the crowd gasp.

  The demon is green, slimy, with fierce yellow eyes, four long arms with claws at the ends, a mouth full of fangs. There’s something wolfish about its face, long and lean, with patches of hair here and there.

  The demon whips Emmet off the ground. He screams, not having to fake it, caught off-guard. Salit falls backwards, yelling with genuine horror.

  My world goes red with fear. I’m thrown back in time... that night in the cellar... earlier...my old home... walking into my parents’ bedroom to find Lord Loss, Vein, and Artery at work. Feeling the exact same thing in my gut now as I did then.

  The demon screeches and vanishes back underground, carrying Emmet with it. There’s a moment of hush. Then Emmet’s face appears, sheer terror in his expression. “Help!” he cries. “For the love of —”

  Blood erupts around him, shooting up through the hole like a geyser. The howl of the demon drowns out his final words. His eyes go wide, then dead. As his head slumps, the demon pulls and Emmet disappears again, this time forever.

  It all happened so swiftly, I’m in a state of shock. So is everybody else. Stunned silence. People with hands over their mouths and disbelief in their eyes. I sense screams building in a dozen throats, ready to erupt at once, a chorus of terror.

  “Now that’s what I call a death scene!” Davida Haym roars triumphantly, shattering the spell of fear. “Cut! Did you get that? You’d better have! We’ll never top that take!”

  And suddenly everybody’s laughing, relief flooding through them. They thought for a few seconds that the demon was real, that Emmet was really being attacked. Now the moment has passed and they’ve remembered — this is make believe, horrific fun, a movie. They’re embarrassed at having been faked out, but since so many of the others reacted the same way, they’re not left feeling too red-faced.

  “I told you!” Dervish laughs, clapping loudly. “Wasn’t that the most vicious, coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “My heart!” Juni gasps, fanning her face with one hand. “I didn’t expect it all to happen so fast!”

  “That was amazing!” Bill-E exclaims. “Did you see it all, Grubbs? That spray of blood — like it was coming from a fireman’s hose! It was... Grubbs? Are you OK? Hey, Dervish, I think there’s something wrong with Grubbs. He looks like...”

  I block out Bill-E’s words and the other sounds. I experienced the same sense of terror that many of the people around me felt. The same jolt of fear. The same moment of belief that this was real. But whereas they’ve gotten over that moment, I can’t.

  Because I’m remembering the look of the demon. Its movements. The hate in its eyes. The effect it had on me.

  And I’m staring at the open manhole cover, all the blood around it, no sign of Emmet or the monster.

  And I’m thinking... every part of me is insisting...

  That was no damn guy in a suit.

  That demon was real!

  The Laughingstock

  “IT was just a movie monster,” Dervish says.

  “No. It was real. It killed Emmet.”

  We’re still in the alley. The blood’s being washed away, and people are chattering about the big scene with the demon. I grabbed Dervish as soon as I could move. Told him what I thought. He thinks differently.

  “Grubbs, come on, I said it was going to be realistic. You’re —”

  “I know what I saw!” I retort, voice rising. “That was a demon, like Lord Loss! It killed Emmet!”

  Juni looks at me oddly. Bill-E is gawping openly. Dervish smiles crookedly at them, takes hold of my elbow, and marches me out of earshot. “Are you insane?” he hisses as we turn a corner. “We’re on a film set. That was a guy in a costume. A very convincing costume, but just —”

  “Don’t tell me you thought that wasn’t real,” I moan. “Didn’t you feel it in your gut, the same thing you felt when we faced Lord Loss? The magic in the air?”

  Dervish glares at me. Starts to say something. Stops, his expression softening. “I’ve been a fool. I thought you’d gotten over the Lord Loss incident, but I guess you haven’t.”

  “Of course I haven’t ‘gotten over’ it!” I snort. “You don’t ‘get over’ demons murdering your parents and sister! But I’ve dealt with it. Moved on. This isn’t delayed shock. I know what I saw, and that was a real demon.”

  “You’re hysterical,” Dervish says.

  “No,” I snarl. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. I’m not being a big kid. That. Was. A. Demon. Nobody can mimic the look and movements — the aura — of a real demon. I don’t care how many special effects artists work on it. Some things can’t be replicated, by anybody, ever.”

  “Grubbs . . .” Dervish can’t think of anything else to add.

  “Where’s Emmet?” I challenge him. “If he was acting, why didn’t he come out when Davida yelled ‘cut’?”

  “They took him away to wash the blood off,” Dervish says.

  I shake my head. “I bet you’re wrong. I bet we can’t find him.”

  Dervish sighs impatiently. “OK. Let’s go look for Emmet.
But!” He raises a finger. “When we find him, and you see that he’s unharmed, I want you to accept it. I don’t want you saying it’s not really Emmet, it’s a changeling, or any nonsense like that. OK?”

  “Fine,” I smile bitterly.

  Grumbling sourly, Dervish leads me away in search of Emmet Eijit, even though I know in my heart that the only place we’ll find him now is amidst the bones and scattered shreds of skin in some dirty demon’s den.

  Emmet’s not in any of the trailers. Nobody has seen him. I shoot Dervish a meaningful look, but he waves it away and goes looking for Davida. She’s still in the alley, talking with a technician. We wait for her to finish, then Dervish nudges forward and asks if she knows where Emmet is. Says we want to congratulate him on his performance.

  “Of course!” Davida cries. “Hell, I want to too. I plain forgot about him. That was amazing. I loved the final touch — the scream for help. It worked perfectly. No need for a second take. He’ll be getting the blood cleaned off, so —”

  “No,” I interrupt. “We checked. He isn’t in makeup.”

  “Oh. Then I guess...Hey, Chuda! Where’d Emmet get to?”

  A tall, thin man without eyebrows steps forward. Chuda Sool, the first assistant director and Davida’s closest confidant. They’ve worked together on her last four films. He’s a quiet sort, keeps to the background, makes sure everything’s running smoothly, tries to head off problems before they bother Davida.

  “There’s been a flare-up,” Chuda says softly. “Perhaps we should speak about it in private.”

  “What are you talking about?” Davida snaps. “What happened?”

  “Nora — Emmet’s mother — ran into Tump Kooniart after shooting,” Chuda says. “They had a huge argument. Tump said some very nasty things. He upset her. Nora grabbed Emmet, demanded a car, collected their belongings and . . .” Chuda shrugs.

  “They left?” Davida barks. “Are you mad? Nobody leaves until shooting finishes. It’s in their contract. Get them back!”

  “I can’t,” Chuda says. “When Nora calms down, maybe we can convince her to return, but —”

  “She has no choice!” Davida barks. “She signed the contract. They have to stay on set for the duration.”

  “You’re absolutely correct,” Chuda says patiently. “But she went anyway. You can withhold Emmet’s payment and maybe force them back that way, but for the time being...” He shrugs.

  “Told you,” I mutter, glancing up at Dervish. Then I turn and walk off, not wanting to waste my time on more ridiculous excuses. Emmet’s dead, slaughtered by a demon. And if his mom’s missing, that means she was probably killed too. Time for Grubbs Grady to make an ultra-quick exit from Slawter!

  “You can’t just walk off,” Dervish argues as I pack my bag. “Watch me.” I turn to Bill-E, who’s standing by his bed, blinking like a startled owl. “You’re coming too. I’m not leaving you to end up like Emmet.”

  “It looks bad, especially as there’s no sign of Emmet,” Dervish says. “But we need to make sure. Chuda could have been telling the truth. Emmet’s mother —”

  “Bull!” I snort. “There was no argument with Tump Kooniart. Chuda made that story up. Emmet was killed by a demon. His mom’s dead too, I guess. Chuda must be working for the demon, since he lied to cover up the truth. And I doubt if he’s the only one.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bill-E splutters. “You believe that was a real demon? You think Emmet was really killed? Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe,” I laugh shortly. “But if I am, I’m going to be crazy far, far away from Slawter. And you’re coming with me. I won’t leave you behind.” I look hard at Dervish. “I won’t.”

  “OK,” Dervish sighs. “I won’t keep you here against your will. But you’re overreacting. Until we know for sure, we should —”

  There’s a knock at the door. Juni Swan. “Can I come in?”

  I go stiff. Is Juni working with Chuda Sool and the demon? Has she been sent to convince me that my imagination has run wild? I like Juni. I’d hate to think that she’s evil. But if she backs up Chuda’s story...

  “I wanted to check that everything’s all right,” Juni says, eyeing the bag that I’m in the middle of packing.

  “Did Chuda send you?” I ask tightly.

  “No. I came because I heard you telling Dervish that Emmet had been killed by a real demon. I wanted to know what you meant.”

  “I’d have thought that was obvious.”

  “You can’t truly believe that was a real demon,” Juni says. “Demons don’t exist, do they, Dervish?”

  Dervish clears his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. ‘There’s more in heaven and Earth, Horatio,’ and however the rest of the quote goes.”

  “But... we’re making a film about demons. That was just an act. Emmet —”

  “— has mysteriously disappeared,” I cut in.

  Juni frowns. “Excuse me?”

  “Nora had a fight with Tump Kooniart,” Dervish explains.

  “The way we heard it, she lost her temper, grabbed Emmet, demanded a car, and took off.”

  “But she can’t have,” Juni says. “Their contract...Nobody’s allowed to leave until shooting wraps.”

  “They tore it up,” Dervish says softly. “Allegedly.”

  Juni’s frown deepens. Then she looks at me, expression clearing. “That explains the bag. You think this confirms what you suspected. You’re getting out before the demons kill you too.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Juni nods slowly. “And if I try to convince you that Emmet hasn’t been killed... that demons aren’t real... would you think I was part of a conspiracy?”

  I hesitate, not wanting to offend her if she’s innocent.

  “I don’t know anything about a fight between Nora and Tump, or why Nora would have been allowed to leave,” Juni says steadily. “And it’s strange that it happened so quickly, without them saying goodbye to anyone. You might be right. The demon could have been real. Maybe it did kill Emmet.”

  Juni reaches inside the light jacket that she’s wearing and pulls a pink cell phone out of a pocket. She holds it towards me. As I take it, suspicious, she says, “I have contact numbers for everyone connected to the children working on this film. Nora’s number is in there. I’d like you to call her.”

  I glance up sharply. “No tricks,” Juni says. “I don’t know what will happen when you dial that number. I’m making no promises. I think Nora will answer, or if she doesn’t, you can leave a message and she’ll call back shortly. But short of us getting a car and tearing after them in hot pursuit, I think this is the only way to determine the truth.”

  I stare at the buttons. I don’t want to do this. I want to pass the phone back to Juni, finish packing, and get the hell out.

  But I can’t. Because maybe — just maybe — I figured this wrong. Maybe the fear dates back to my fight with Lord Loss and my mind’s playing tricks on me. I’m pretty sure it isn’t. But if I refuse to dial Nora’s number, I’ll look like a crackpot.

  I unlock the phone. Get to the list of names. “Is it under E or N?” I ask.

  “N for Nora,” Juni says.

  I search for the Ns. There’s a lot of them. I scroll down. There it is — Nora Eijit. I hit the send button. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Fi

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” a woman’s voice snaps. “Kooniart can fry in the fires of hell! You tell him —”

  “Mrs. Eijit?” I interrupt.

  A pause. “Who’s this?”

  “Grubbs Grady. Emmet’s friend.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I saw Juni’s name come up, so I assumed...”

  “I’m calling from her phone.”

  “I see. Do you want to speak to Emmet?”

  “Yes, please.” Speaking mechanically, figuring this could be any woman — I don’t know Mrs. Eijit’s voice well enough to make a definite identification. Waiting for the kicker, for her to say he’s asleep, or he doesn
’t want to talk to me, or —

  “I’ll put him on.”

  The sound of her phone being handed over. The noise of a car engine in the background. Then — Emmet. “Hi,

  Grubbs,” he says quietly, miserably.

  “Hi,” I reply weakly.

  “I can’t really talk now. I’m sorry I split without saying goodbye. I’m hoping we can come back later, when —”

  “No way!” Emmet’s mom shrieks. “Not unless that fat fool Kooniart gets down on his knees and —”

  “I’ll have to call you back,” Emmet says quickly and disconnects.

  I look at the little red button on Juni’s phone. Slowly, reluctantly, I press it. Hand the phone back to Juni. Raise my eyes. And smile like a fool, silently admitting to Juni and the others that I was wrong — even though, inside, part of me still insists the demon was real.

  “I can’t believe you thought Emmet had been killed,” Bill-E chuckles. It’s the morning after. We’re on our way to class.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter.

  “I just don’t see how you could —”

  “Enough!” I snap. Then, softly, “Remember what I told you about my parents? How they died?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Bill-E’s face drops. “Grubbs, I didn’t mean —”