Religion [J.P.M.]

ten.

"That skank just tried to kill me!"

I turn around the corner and see John confiding in Liz at the front desk.  "You'll have to be more specific." Liz says, looking at the guestbook.

"He means Aileen." I say, taking a sip from my flask and approaching the desk.  I stand beside him and scan him top to bottom.  He looked haggard.  Aileen definitely played a little rough.

"She's leaving here in handcuffs." John picks up the phone and starts dialing. 

I grab the receiver and put it down.  "Don't bother.  You won't be able to keep her in one place for too long, March is too protective of his guests for that."

"James Patrick March?" John asks, looking from me to Liz.

"The very same." Liz takes a hit of her cigarette.  "His annual Devils Night soirée is the event of the season."

"What the hell is Devil's Night?"

Liz glances at me before turning around and pulling an envelope from the mailboxes under the key rack.  She hands John his invitation and motions for me to explain.

"Come on, John." I take him by the arm and start walking toward the elevator.  He was staring at his name embossed in Gold on the envelope.  "You're going to love it."

He stopped me at the elevator.  "Who the hell are you?"

I sighed.  "Ever heard of Richard Ramirez?"

"The serial killer?"

"Yeah, that's my dad." I turn my hand over and show him the tattoo.  "Anyway, are you going or not?"

He shook his head.  "No way, Richard Ramirez never had kids."

"Oh my god." I groan and pull out my phone.  Scrolling through my pictures, I stop on a picture of me when I was about 11, holding my dad's hand through the glass slot in the visitors booth at the prison.  "Does this convince you?"

After looking at it for a while, he pressed the elevator button and took a deep breath.  "That still doesn't explain what the hell Devil's Night is."

The doors opened and we stepped inside.  "Halloween is all lame costumes and plastic pumpkins and gag-inducing fake blood, but Devil's Night is what really counts.  Ghosts, including my dead father, can move about.  James hosts a little party every year for his. . . students, if you will.  It's to die for, in every matter of the sense."

We reached the correct floor and stepped out.  Walking down the hall, I continued to explain.  "Anyone who's anyone is invited.  My dad, Aileen, Dahmer, the usuals.  Manson couldn't join us, as he's still serving his sentence." I pause when I see room 78.  "Are you ready?" I ask.

He says nothing and I open the door.  Voices flood in.  I recognized Gacy at once.  He was explaining something boring to my father.  We neared them and I let John loose on his own.  Gacy had stopped and was watching him.  "He's insufferable when he's unaware." I say, watching him glance around the room.  "He's a cute one, though."

I follow behind him, making sure he wasn't going to do anything stupid.  After all, I'm sure he was packing and I was the only one who could actually get shot.  Aileen was apologizing to him and he was just looking, as if he was trying to see someone slip up in their act.  I crept past into the dining room.  Jeffrey sat at the table, quiet as usual.

"Hey, Jeff." I sat down beside him, where I had sat every year.  "The party is here."

"Hello, Chanel." He said quietly, not trying to draw attention to himself.