[DFM]

Hot Girls in Love



Vesuvius stands a little more imposing than usual. Hopefully whatever gimmicky voodoo Velvet's using doesn't operate on a three strikes and you're enchanted forever policy. The last thing I need is to turn into Heather.



I feel the inside of my jacket for the script, last minute assurance that I didn't lose it somewhere along the way. After this, Velvet's going to tell me who Ginger Swan is, or at least where I can find her, and I won't have to come back here again.



Part of me wonders if I should bother with the game face since it's worked so well up until now. I head up the stairs and find Velvet waiting in the VIP room, sitting on sofa and staring at the hot tub in the corner. She looks up at me and smiles, patting the cushion next to her. I sit down before I realize it might not have been the thing to do.



"Hi, Helen. It's... good to see you."

"Ah... thank you, Velvet."

She looks away for a moment, running fingers through her hair.

"Please, just... would you call me VV?"

I love saying 'No'. I always have. There's something magical, something empowering about it. Especially when you know you can break whatever blood fueled witchcraft someone's using with that one magic word.

"Sure, I... I'll..."

God damn it god damn it god damn it god damn it FUCK.



"Did you... speak with Hatter?"

"Yeah, I..." I pull the manuscript from bartered jacket and hand it to Velvet. Hand it to VV. She takes it and skims over the pages. I half expect her to pull out a pair of reading glasses. She laughs softly to herself before looking up with the tracest hint of a sad smile.



"He really is a terrible writer, you know." She looks back at the manuscript, lifting it slightly in the air. "Without this... he's never going to get another shot at being the real thing. He'll be alone at that motel forever..." She shakes her head, setting the pile of papers on her lap. "...destroying this is like killing him."

I tilt my head slightly, disbelieving.

"We don't really have a choice. It's not even his, all the ideas are stolen from-"

"I know." She sighs, looking down at it. "I know. Still..."

In a clear case of demonic possession, I put my hand on her shoulder and smile.

"It'll be alright."



"...Thank you."

She takes the paper by the middle and tears. "I'm sorry, David." She turns the strips and tears them again. Before long all that's left is bland confetti, and she swallows before dumping it in the trashcan beside the sofa.



"It's a shame. He would have been so happy..."

"He's lucky he's even still alive."

"...Yes, I suppose so. Did you... find out who his source was?"

"I did."

VV looks earnest, even worried.

"Did you...?"

"He's alright. He won't be coming back to LA this lifetime."

She smiles, relieved.



"You really are trying, aren't you? I..." She pauses a moment, staring into my eyes with a strange, lost look. "Helen, if... do you ever wonder what might have happened if... we never took the paths we did in life?"

"I don't... I don't really follow."

Her eyes linger a moment before turning away.

"It's... nothing, I was just..." She stares at the far wall before turning back to me. "You wanted to find Ginger Swan?"

I don't know why the topic of business shocks me like it does.

"Yes, I..."

"She was a movie star, before our time. I only know her from Isaac's stories. She died... almost sixty years ago, I think. She's buried in the Pine Ridge Cometary just up the road. I... don't know exactly where."

I blink, not quite believing.

"Ah... alright. I'm... looking for her headstone, then? There's supposed to be a video with her."

VV shakes her head.

"I don't know about that. There's a caretaker who might be able to help you, his name was... John, I believe. He's one of Isaac's men."

"Thank you... VV."



"Helen, before... before you go, I have something for you. It isn't much, but..." She reaches behind the sofa and pulls out a package, wrapped in paper and tied with a fancy bow. "...I wanted you to have it."

I take the package and stare at her, mouth half open. I'm getting a present. I'm getting a Christmas present from an undead horror.



"If... you ever need anything, please... just let me know. Even if it's above my head, Isaac'll help if I ask him to. Whatever LaCroix has you doing..." She leans forward, kissing me softly on the cheek. Her lips are warm. "...be careful, Helen."





I don't really remember leaving the room, but I can still feel moisture on my cheek. I stare down at the package in my hands and after a moment tear open the paper.

There's a phone sitting on top of a second larger, softer package. Black, with pink trim. Stylish, VV. I flip open the cover to find a wallpaper of the girl herself lying seductively across a red sofa. I'd change it, but god knows how deeply its buried in the menus and I've got much more important things to worry about than an awful wallpaper on my free phone. I slip it into my pocket and open the second package.



Snuff's Enough





I change in the employee's bathroom, ditching the old clothes in a dumpster just out the back. I leave through the main entrance, VV's present fitting amazingly well. There's even built in holsters for my guns and the jacket's thick enough that it might even help against the numerous physical assaults I'm sure to endure in the near future.











Would be a shame to see it ruined, though.



Up the road, look for the sign. Should be easy enough.



It isn't long before I'm right in front of the gate. It's locked, but it doesn't take much force to pry it open. Probably years behind maintenance schedule.



There's groaning coming from somewhere in the cemetery, low unearthly groans. Actually... a lot of them, from the sounds of it.



Yeah, an almost derelict cemetery probably isn't the safest place to hide from the terrors of the night. I walk quickly down the path, making sure to keep an eye on suspiciously fresh mounds of dirt.



I see a house sheltered against the ridge of the cemetery path. Decrepit and forgotten, just like the grounds. Fortunately, as sorry as it looks its still got a light coming from inside. I take a shortcut down the slope, listening to another series of moans coming from deeper in the cemetery.



This must be John's place. Hopefully he can help me find Swan's grave site and isn't busy being eaten.



I crack open the door and begin to step inside when an explosion shatters the air and the stone wall beside by head erupts into a shower of powdered debris. I jump backwards and whip out the forty four in the flash of an eye, training it towards a man in black. Before I pull the trigger he raises his hands, shotgun still gripped in one of them.

"Woah, sorry about that, sugarpuss." He says, lowering the shotgun and setting it on a weathered sofa. "Reflex, that's all. Only thing that comes here without knocking are the damned zombies."



"Come on, you can put that thing away. Just a misunderstanding is all."

I let the gun linger in the air a moment before sliding it back into jacket.

"I hope you're John."

"Yeah, name's Romero. I'm the caretaker here. Well, sort of. I'm not really here to keep people out, you know."

"Other way around?"

"Got that right. Every night for the past couple months, the dead've been getting up with an itch to stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. Nobody knows why, but they're working on it. Meantime, Isaac needed a volunteer to patch up the problem, and I stepped forward. Problem temporarily solved, the baron's happy, I get to shoot zombies and guarantee I get my blood for another month. Nice little niche here."

"Why are they getting up and wandering around after all this time?"



"Who knows? Vampire necro-hoodoo, toxic waste, solar radiation - the important part is: they keep getting up, I get to put 'em back down. Everyone's a winner."

"All you're doing here is killing zombies?"

"Sure. Shoot them, blow them away, frag them, whatever the situation calls for. Sometimes I throw in chopping and dicing just to mix it up."

"I'm also hoping you know where Ginger Swan is."



"The actress? Hmm... I don't remember taking a chainsaw to her, so she's probably still where she belongs. Hmm. Not that I'd recognize her after decomposing for sixty years."

"There's a million graves here, which one's supposed to be hers?"

"It's near the..." He pauses. "Say, wait a minute. I think you're supposed to do some errand or something for me before I tell you what you need to know."

"You're shitting me."



"'Fraid not. It isn't much, but I need somebody to watch this place while I run into town to handle some business. I ain't supposed to leave or it might end up in a zombie holocaust or something. Like this one time, these goths snuck in while I was off cavorting with the locals. Got back and... wooh, wasn't pretty."

"What do you even need to go into town for?"

"Sometimes a man needs release even putting a forty four slug through a zombies brain doesn't provide."

"You want me to get eaten by zombies while you run into town and fuck a hooker."

"Well, if you put it like that... hmm..." John looks at me like he's noticing me for the first time. "Could you... maybe step into the light a little more."

I cross my arms and roll my eyes, but I take a step forward.



"Alright I know you're technically dead and all but goddamn you are one striking looking pieces of ass. I haven't seen a vampire who looks as hot as you since Velour came into down. Holy shit you even put that psycho in Santa Monica to shame." He moves his head, trying to soak up every angle he can. "Where were you when you were still breathing?"

"A penthouse in New York and way out of your league."

"How about now that you're not?"

I blink.

"...What?"

"Well, if you don't want, you could save me the trip into town. Lot quicker for you and there's no way I'm going to find anyone near your caliber of stunner in town. Way I see it, everybody wins."

"I'm dead."



"There's a big difference between technically dead and dead dead. You're walkin', you're talkin' and you belong on a movie screen so other than being a little cold I don't see the difference."

I furrow my brow and press a hand up to his cheek. Warm, of course. After weeks of nothing but girls hitting on me, I'm almost surprised this is even happening.

Hmm.


It'd be a lot quicker than staking out the graveyard while he's gone. Easier, too. And after that mess with VV...

"Sorry."



"Yeah, I should have figured. Not a lot of you guys that still... you know."

"I know. You run to town and get your rocks off, I'll watch the farm."

"Alright, I'll leave the shotgun here for you. Keep an eye out for trouble."


He leaves and I spend a good fifteen minutes just pacing the cabin, eying the filth and the hideously stained furniture. Good thing I can't get tired or I might be tempted to sit. After awhile I tuck the shotgun under my arm and walk out the side door, leaning against the outside wall and waiting for Romero to get back from town. I suppose I could have slept with him, but... this place is filthy. He's probably filthy. He's not very good looking, either. He's not the right class. He's not the right social sphere.







He's not VV.

"Oh FUCK you."

Going to have to stop talking to myself. I shift my wight against the wall and think about going for a walk, but I think the last thing I need is more time alone with my thoughts. Maybe I should count headstones. There's a the sound of footsteps clomping down the stone trail and I turn to see Romero coming towards me looking very satisfied.

"Thanks for guarding the home fort, Sugar Puss." He reaches out and I hand him the shotgun. "Ginger Swan?"

"Yeah, she's down in the mosuliem near the back. East wing, in a box near the bottom. The name's hard to read, but it's there if you smack away the dust."

"Thanks, John. Good luck with the zombies."



Trip alone through a haunted mass grave, just what I need. I cross the graveyard, listening to the continuing moans.



That must be the building. why is it that everything in this city looks so god damn gloomy?



At least there aren't any gargoyles perched on the roof. According to that book at Strauss's, they'd come to life and rip me to pieces for trespassing against a master long dead.



Cold. Cold and dark.



Howling. Groaning. Shuffling. A symphony of bumps echo through the stone halls of the crypt.



If there's anything I'm capable of taking down, it's zombies.



I follow the path through the east wing, keeping an eye out for the Graves R Us marker that should belong to Ginger Swan.



I pass through the swinging gate and holder the revolver, crouching down next to the only cover that looks like it's been recently moved. With a little bit of effort I jerk it open, revealing a VHS tape stuffed into the ribcage of a skeleton in a rotted dress. I pry the tape out and slam the drawer shut. Dust to dust.



Alright, let's get out of this nut house.