"Live without the sunlight,

Love without your heartbeat,

I can't live within you."

David Bowie as "Jareth" in Labyrinth- "Within You"

'Gossip Columnists Murdered'

He'd struck again. This time he'd murdered a group of journalists from a gossip magazine. Police found them with their tongues nailed to their desks and vocal chords missing. The article suggested there may be a connection amongst the recent killings. It seemed too coincidental that they all happened so close together. Each crime more gruesome than the last, Rachel didn't doubt it for a second. He'd certainly gone through the trouble of getting a message across. But what message? None of the crimes seemed directly related. He didn't have a specific type or way of killing. His crimes were all over the place. The only links were the goriness and artistic styling. As far as she knew, these people didn't know one one other or share anything in common. What made him pick them? What did they do to him? This couldn't have been his first time. It seemed too calculated and perfect. She considered the victims themselves. The twin allegedly murdered their parents. The couple were both cheating on their significant others. The gossip columnists spread lies and warp the truth to their liking. Some people considered these bad things. Perhaps they were woth killing over? An idea came to her and she began searching.

Her evening with Elizabeth went as any other their dates would. The two women returned to the penthouse after the show for drinks. They chatted about the lack of color in the clothes and fashion's downfall over the past few years. They talked over dinner and wine before ending up in the bedroom. Strangely, Donovan didn't appear the entire night. She didn't spot any of his clothes or personal items anywhere in the room. Elizabeth erased him from her life and her world. Rachel didn't feel for him in the slightest.

Then there was Claudia, who was still in the hotel. Rachel avoided being near her, but it became increasingly difficult. They sometimes passed each other in corridors. Whenever she saw her in the elevator, she said she'd take the next one. Claudia enjoyed the effect she had on Rachel. It fed her ego. Rachel knew of someone with the same delight. Will began his reconstruction the day after the runway show. She spotted him often walking about the hotel, commenting on what needed changing. Claudia followed him like a dog at its master's side. She agreed with him on every idea. She pushed a few of her own. Rachel guessed she wanted her own stamp on the place. James wasn't a fan of the renovation. Once their castle of horrors came to light, the lessons would end. Killing Claudia wouldn't stop Will, but it might push him back.

A knock at the door interrupted her train of thought. "Come in!"

Liz entered the room pushing a cart with the day's lunch. She parked it beside the small dining table where Rachel sat. "Hey Liz," she said, "What's the word around the bar today?"

"Will Drake's renovations," she answered. She popped open a can of ginger ale and poured. "He's already walking around with that editor friend of his. He says he likes the glamor and history of the place but wants to cut out everything about it. It's all anyone talks about anymore. We've even gotten some media attention from it."

"I think he should leave it as is."

"Well, this place could use a touch-up," she said. "A lot of these rooms are stained, old and musty. Also, the spirits haunting them don't help."

"Like Mrs. March?"

"You've met?"

"She's come here," Rachel said. "She hasn't done any actual damage, though. She only wrote all over my room in blood."

"Well, don't speak too soon," Liz warned, lifting the cover to reveal a tray of small sandwiches. She placed it in front of Rachel. "She comes by the bar every so often. She likes rearranging the bottles and breaking the glasses. I've had to get new ones twice now."

"She seems to like bugging everyone."

"I don't take offense to it," she said. "I can imagine being a poltergeist can be boring after a while. You should see the stuff she's done to our guests. She's bitten and scratched them. She's broken their things. She turns on the faucets when they've turned them off. She writes messages for them too. You know, the usual poltergeist shit." Ms. Evers gave her sugar cookies for dessert today. Liz set them aside for the time being. "How's the book coming along?"

"Surprisingly well," she said. She folded a napkin over her lap, "I wish I had more to go on right now. I only have what's in the newspapers."

"Perhaps your friend at the police station could help," she suggested. "He sounded eager when he came to pick up the boxes."

"Ugh," Rachel shook her head, "Rodney's more of a last resort. He's always asking me out whenever I see him. It's been like that since college."

Liz looked down at her a moment before saying, "If it helps any, I do happen to know someone who could help…"

"Who?"

"John Lowe," she replied. "He's been an off again-on again resident here for the past few years. He's often The Master's guest. Given his occupation, it wouldn't surprise me if he knew something."

"He's a cop, you mean?"

Liz nodded, "When he's not with The Master, he's at the bar or in his room"

Rachel gave it a thought. "I suppose I can ask James for an introduction," she said, taking a bite from a sandwich. "Talking to someone who knows about it would be helpful. Imagine how good that'd be for the book. Not only would I write about the murders, I'd be getting information from its lead detective. All the good true crime books have that sort of thing, you know."

"And with a few drinks, he'll tell you whatever you want to know."

She wore the black sheer and sequined dress. It originally came sleeveless, but Ms. Evers added short ones for her. Fixing the matching headband, she knocked on room 78's door. Her heart fluttered when James answered with an adoring smile.

"Dearest," he said, "Please come in." He kissed her cheek, "You look ravishing this evening."

"I picked this just for you," she smiled back at him as she walked into the room. "I hope this wasn't too last minute?"

"Of course not," he said, letting her take his arm. "You only need to say the word and I will make the arrangements."

"You're too good to me," she said. She pecked his lips before taking her seat.

He rounded the table and sat across from her. Rachel could never get over the butterflies his stares gave her. "So, how is the outside world, my love? Killed anyone recently?"

She giggled, "Unfortunately not. Though, my eyes have glanced around lately," She thought of telling him about Joanne. Surely he would give a proper explanation. Yet, there were more important matters ahead. Ms. Evers entered the room, gracious and accommodating. She began serving them slices of beef and grilled vegetables. "I've decided to change the focus of my book."

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow as he cut his beef, "To what?"

"This interesting killer who's been in the papers recently."

James stopped mid cutting and looked at her. "Really? Tell me about him…"

"I personally think his killings are representations of the Ten Commandments," she said. "He killed two married people secretly having a love affair. Then he killed two wealthy twins accused of murdering their parents," she cut her slice and bit into it. "Now, he's killed a group of celebrity gossip columnists. I think he's mirroring the Commandments. 'Thou shall not commit adultery'. 'Thou shall honor thy mother and thy father'. 'Thou Shall Not Bear False Witness.' They all fit. There's also been this horrific murder a few weeks before I arrived. There was this man who-"

"-was an accused pedophile and film fanatic," James finished for her.

Rachel stared at him before asking, "You know about them?"

"I'm the one who set them in motion," he said.

Quietness nestled over the table. Rachel studied him. Eyes peered at her with hesitancy and hers gazed at him in confusion. She could feel his stiffness and uncertainty as if she were within him. She broke the silence as she said, "What do you mean you 'set them in motion'? Do you know the man who did it?"

"I have a suspicion you already know the answer."

"I do," she confirmed, "But I want it from your own lips."

"Yes, I know him," he nodded. "His name is John Lowe and he is a genius in the making."

"He's certainly living up to it," she said. "I find his work incredibly interesting and even inspiring. He's a real artist."

"You'd like to meet him," he stated.

"I would," she poked at a piece of broccoli and said, "If you wouldn't mind making introductions?" She chewed the vegetable.

"Not at all," he smiled, returning to his own dinner, "I think you could learn a lot from John. He has come a long way from his restrictions."

"Restrictions? Such as?"

"The usual: Family, society, the justice system that suppresses his desires," he answered. He ate a piece of cauliflower topped by a cut of meat. "The sort of things that would restrain anyone; he was slowly spiraling already when I met him."

"Like me?" she sipped her wine.

"Much like you," he affirmed. "Of course, there are some lessons I only share with you," his wink sent a rush of warmth through her.

"James…." She blushed. "Speaking of lessons, I've picked the subject for you."

"Have you now?" he asked, delighted and surprised.

"I wanted to surprise you," she said. "There's a magazine editor staying here. She's been awfully rude to me since she arrived. It'd only be right to teach her some manners."

James beamed at her. His dimples teased her butterflies more. "You are absolutely wonderful. Every word, every syllable, every breath you take only deepens my love. The sight of you sets my heart on fire and fuels my desires. Both of you."

"You mean Joanne?" When James's shoulders tensed, she continued, "She visited me a couple of nights ago. She seems quite keen to make herself known. I thought you ought to know."

"Let's not talk-"

"-If she died here, why is she not like you? Why hasn't she contacted you?"

James coughed awkwardly and tugged at his ascot. She saw his discomfort and frowned. "I said we shouldn't damper the evening with such unpleasant-"

"-But James-"

"I said 'no'!" he slammed his fist on the table. Anger darkened his eyes and he even scowled slightly. "I will not have our special evening ruined by this!"

She felt his anger radiate across the table. It stabbed an icicle inside her chest. "I'm sorry," she said, "I-I didn't mean to anger you. It's only that I have so many questions."

"I will answer them another time, dearest," he said, eyes still angry and cold. "For now, let us focus on more important things."

"Yes, James," she said, "Of course."

The two of them finished their dinner over conversation and drinks. She told him everything she could about Claudia. James said it was good for her to know her victim. He said her kills were emotion based, but she should harness that emotion. The passion of the moment could overcome her and she'd lose herself. 'And if you lose yourself, you forget details. You might leave a fingerprint or footprint behind. You might not be as clean in your disposal. You'll be drunk off your rage. Today, you can't afford anything to slip past you'. When they left their dinner for James's gramophone, she felt on top of the world. His outburst was completely forgiven and forgotten in his embrace. He kissed her softly as they danced, his hand holding her close as it deepened. She loved the air of him. She wished it'd never end.

"Now," he whispered on her lips, "For tonight's lesson, my love. You've already dabbled in stalking, but now it's time for the pounce. You clearly despise this woman. Let's see if you can hone in that precious rage of yours."

"She's in Room 83," she grinned. "I'll grab the essentials."

They stood in front of Claudia's door. Rachel ached to knock. Her fingers tingled and she wiggled her toes. The anticipation built up in her stomach like a clot. Her darkness was ready to boil over. Holding the rolled up tool kit, she awaited instruction. James stood beside her, leather apron over his white shirt and trousers, with a radium mask in his hand. Made of leather, she spotted small blocks sticking out around the cheeks and the top of the head. It was clearly two parts. James already wore one part which covered his hair and chin. The second would cover his face, his eyes shielded by a pair of reflective glasses. Rachel felt naked beside him. She imagined she'd receive something similar.

"Don't I have anything?" she asked him. When he looked at her questionably, she said, "I don't have anything to cover myself or my dress. What if a strand of hair falls out or I leave a fingerprint behind? These sequins can get loose if pulled the wrong way. They'd recognize my heels from the prints I might leave."

He nodded in approval. "Yes, you're right. I suppose I'll have Ms. Evers sew something similar for you. For now," his eyes scanned her body, "Nudity will have to do."

Something in Rachel didn't hesitate. She stripped before him and smiled at his aroused staring. It didn't matter if someone stepped out of their room right then. The drafty hallway made her shiver, but James's closeness warmed her. "And now?"

"And now, dearest one, we knock."

Rachel withdrew a thin blade from the kit and held it tightly. Facing the door again, she tapped her knuckles on the wood. The door swung open and Claudia gaped at her. "What in the hell are you-"

A swift slash cut off her words.