Slawter. Darren Shan
“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