"If our love's insanity,

Why are you my clarity?"

Zedd- "Clarity"

Los Angeles, California

1923

He'd finished placing the last of the parts in the tub when she entered. Unfazed by the stench of boiling flesh and acid, she waited by the stairs for him. She seemed hesitant. Her tense shoulders and shuffled feet told him so. She barely smiled at him; she couldn't even look at him. James took off his rubber gloves and approached her. He continued examining her. She wasn't anxious. He saw her worried face and his heart dropped. He pecked her cheek and asked, "What's the matter, dearest?"

"Nothing," she said. "Dinner's ready if you're hungry."

When she turned away, he brought her back to him. "Joanne…"

"I told you," she replied. "Nothing is wrong. Come, our dinner will get cold."

"You," he turned her back around, "Are not leaving until you've told me what's troubling you."

The idea something bothered his wife concerned him. Joanne gazed back up at him with saddened eyes. "I'm pregnant again, James." He saw no hint of a smile or tone of happiness. He knew why.

"That's wonderful, dearest," he said, brushing hair from her face.

"No, it's not," she replied. "I can't go through the pain again. I can't bear it a fourth time. I cannot."

"And you won't," he reassured her. "I will get you the best doctor in Los Angeles. You will have round-the-clock care and all the rest you need." He cupped her cheek, pulling her close to him, "I won't let it happen again. I promise you."

James kissed her and took her by the hand. The two of them ate dinner in near silence. Nothing he brought back her smile. He ordered Ms. Evers to fix a nice dessert, but Joanne did not eat. Her excitement stopped after the third miscarriage. The doctor told them Joanne's cervix wasn't strong enough for a baby. He told the couple it'd be a miracle if they had one. It'd broken her heart. James tried still. A child was the only thing Joanne wanted. He'd see to it she got it.

"James?" she said when she entered their bedroom. Untying her satin robe, she revealed the nightdress beneath. His heart thumped seeing her so exposed. His mind wandered towards the one thing he knew she'd love.

"Yes, dearest?" he asked, running his hands up her thighs.

"If we're to have a child," she began, "Then I think we should move."

"Sorry?" he looked up from where he sat and asked, "Move? What for? Our home is the perfect place for children. We have the extra rooms for them."

She slid onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him, "And what if one of them were to come upon a body? What if they saw you disposing of one? Even killing one? I don't want our child seeing something so early in life."

"You wish our children to be ignorant?"

"For a time, yes," Joanne nodded. Her fingertips touched the ends of his hair, her body shifting closer to him. "I want them to grow up seeing nothing but luxury and two loving parents."

"Alright," he agreed, "And how do you suppose we do that, love? Where would we go?"

She gave a small smile. She reached into her bedside drawer and withdrew a paper. Placing it between them, he saw a floor plan. Roughly drawn, he could tell it wasn't meant for a house. "If we stayed here, the children-or police-could stumble across the bodies. But, if we had a place where we could dispose of them discreetly, there'd be no problem."

"Go on…"

"A hotel, James," she beamed. "A hotel for you, me, and our children. This is only a rough draft, but it's a start. Imagine it, darling: hallways with no rooms off of them and staircases leading to nowhere. We could have an asphyxiation chamber; a dungeon below right the floors. I even drew laundry chutes going straight down to the basement. There could be a whole passageway system right within the hotel's walls, and nobody would be the wiser. Our children would grow up without the faintest idea about our desires."

James considered the proposal. Funding such a project wouldn't be a problem. When he remained quiet, she urged, "We came to California in search of like minded people. We wanted a place where our family names didn't matter. We have more opportunity here, darling. Let's take advantage of it while we can."

He kissed her briefly and said, "We can go over the plans tomorrow, dearest."

"Oh really, James?" she asked excitedly.

"Of course," he took her hand, "Anything for my precious queen. We will even bring Ms. Evers with us. She'd make a wonderful laundress."

"She'll be so pleased."

He kissed her. "We will have one," he whispered on her lips, "I promise you."

She felt jitters all over. She held her notepad close to her chest and walked down the sixth floor. James arranged a meeting in his office rather than his room. He told her that place was only theirs. Rachel's stomach bubbled with anticipation. She squealed thinking of him. She hadn't seen him yet, but Liz said he'd come by the front desk. He seemed pleased to have a fan. She went over all the questions she'll ask. Of course, it will take more than one interview to fill the book. She also considered talking to people who knew him. They'd give her an outsider's perspective. All the best crime books had them.

Knocking on the last door, James greeted her as usual. "And there she is!" he smiled, "My queen come to grace us with her beauty."

"You're too kind," she beamed, kissing him softly before entering.

Sitting in the lounge area was a dark haired man. In a dress shirt, tie and slacks, he'd clearly come from work. Rachel knew who he was the moment she saw him. His charming smile and kind eyes didn't fool her. His strong stance radiated dominance and clarity filled his eyes. It'd been the same with Rachel. Once she'd tasted blood, she wanted more. The jigsaw pieces of her mind finally fitted together, finally showing her true self. Discovering her purpose cleared her view of the world. She imagined killing put him on cloud nine. She didn't think she could smile any more than that moment.

"John," James addressed him, "This is my lovely better half, Rachel Corbin. Rachel dearest, this is John Lowe."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Corbin," John said as they shook hands. "James tells me you're a fan of my work."

"I am," she said breathlessly. "I've been following you on the news and in the papers. The things you do are so awe inspiring. When I look at it, it's as if I'm looking at a Picasso or a Kahlo piece. You make statements with your art and it's beautiful."

"Well thank you," he smiled. "You have some questions for me, I heard?"

"I do!" she nodded. They both took seats in James' lounge, "I'm working on a new book and I want it to be about you."

He chuckled and turned to James, "I haven't even finished my work and people are eager for the story."

"And they'll be hungry for it when you finish," she told him. "I want to be the first one to get a fresh glimpse into the mind of a genius. I'm putting your work on a pedestal and they will be in awe of it for years."

"You think so?" he raised an eyebrow and leaned into her.

"I know so," she confirmed. "Their morbid curiosity draws them in but reservations pull them back. Your murders will intrigue them, but not know why. It's like watching a car wreck and you can't look away. I want to give them a car wreck. The only way I can do that is by giving them your story. The commercial media and even the police will try painting you as a lunatic. They'll say you murdered 'innocent' people. I can show them the artist behind it all," she then added, "While pretending I don't condone it at all."

"Aren't you a dreamer?" he smirked. Reclining in his chair, he said, "Where do we begin?"

"Your childhood. Tell me everything; don't hold back."

James poured the cognac while she listened to John. She wrote down everything he told her. He'd grown up in a reasonable neighborhood with parents who cared for him. He didn't get into much trouble apart from the occasional fist fight or two. He told her he'd gone to college for a while before joining the police academy. John said he'd gotten into law enforcement to make a difference, but later on he saw its flaws. He saw criminals walking away because of technicalities or lack of evidence. It unnerved him to see whole families destroyed by one person. The law and society, in a sense, protected these people from true justice.

"So, you thought you'd deal it out yourself?" she asked him.

"I didn't think about it that way. At least, not in the beginning," he explained. "I'd come from a terrible crime scene when I came to The Cortez. A father bought in a portable generator when he didn't pay his electric bill. He did it to keep his family warm, but the generator eventually ran out of gas. The kids all died from carbon monoxide poisoning, so he shot himself. I don't think anyone can live with the guilt. I had two kids of my own at the kids, Holden and Scarlet. I knew I would've done the same if I'd been in his shoes. I came to The Cortez in hopes of drowning my sorrows in martinis." He sipped his cognac and continued, "I met The Countess who brought me up here. That's when I met The Master," he nodded at James, "And we talked over drinks. We talked about everything: society, the law, and injustice. We talked about my son and my family. The world," he paused, "It made sense. His words ran through my head like silk. Everything he told me made sense, and he was eager to show me his ways. To show the world true justice, I'd have to frame it myself."

"I'd originally started the project," James told her. "As I've told you, my father was a religious man. He ate the cracker and drank the wine on Sundays. Then he'd go and kill a cat for purring too loud or strangle a dog for barking too much. I realized then, dearest, that the worst thing in this world is religion. It gives hope where there is none. Believers think they will be safe from harm if they go by God's rules. I proved them wrong and I would continue proving them wrong."

"People sin all the time, Rachel," John then said. "They might do it without even realizing. People think they can get around the law or religion. They can't. So, James and I continued. He chooses the victims and I do the dirty work."

"I would," James said, "But these walls keep me from the outside world. I needed someone to head out into the world to display my vision. If I did it within these walls, they'd never see the light of day. There'd be no point. Then I met John and everything changed," he nodded to John. "The Ten Commandments would be my legacy; a monument to my genius."

"The migrant workers," she recalled, "Those were the first ones?"

"Well not exactly," he said, drinking the rest of his cognac. "The first was a thief who was hiding out from police. He represented the commandment 'Thou Shalt Not Steal'. The workers represented 'Remember the Sabbath Day to Keep It Holy'."

"My first victim was a pedophile who frequented the Cortez. He was also a huge movie fan who owned this old Oscar award," John finished his drink and James poured him another. "I pretended to be an interested buyer and then caved his head in with it."

"'Thou Shalt Not Worship False Idols'," Rachel grinned. "Interesting. So, the couple they found a few weeks ago was your second?"

"And the twins were my third," he said. "They were all people I stumbled upon here. James looked into them for me since it's easier for him than me."

"I do my part where I can," he said to Rachel. "Tell her about your next one, John. She'd love to hear about it."

Rachel listened on eagerly. She jotted down everything John told her. He told her about his family and the way things are for him now. Every word that dropped from his lips inspired her. With James, nobody will ever see her severity. They'll never see the darkness of her mind and all its glorious depravity. She wasn't sure if she could live with that or not.

"I gotta head out," he said, standing up. Rachel hadn't noticed the russet rays breaking through the windows. Had that much time really passed?

"You don't wish to stay for dinner, John? Rachel and I could always use the company."

"I'd love to, but I can't," he slid on his jacket, "I'm meeting up with my wife, so I can't be late."

"It'd be lovely if I could talk to her too," Rachel said. "You know, get her side of things."

John smiled amused, "The last person she'd want to talk about is me."

"Then you and I will have to talk again," she said. "One interview doesn't even scratch the surface with you."

John agreed and they decided on a date. When James escorted him out, she beamed brightly at her love. "I couldn't thank you enough," she went to him, letting him take her hands, "It means so much to me."

"Anything for you, dearest," he smiled before kissing her hands. "I'd like to show you one last thing before dinner."

She took his arm and followed him towards the armoire at the end of the room. Rachel noticed the hotel turned James's office into a bedroom. They'd placed a large bed with two end tables and remodeled the bathroom. She watched him push the armoire aside and reveal a room behind it. Rachel smirked, "Your own trophy room," she said, walking inside, "How charming."

She shivered at the temperature in the room, feeling its cold breath on her skin. Looking around, she saw various body parts displayed on the shelves. She'd never seen a collection so magnificent. Yet, the case beside her drew her attention. Examining them, each glass case showed a different organ. She noted the part matched the placard. Two hearts represented 'Honor Thy Mother and Thy Father'. A brain represented 'Thou Shalt Not Worship False Idols'. She saw a tongue and eyes held inside the case marked 'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery'. It was clever and astounding. She noticed several more remained empty, but she imagined John will fill them.

"It must be infuriating," she said to James, examining the brain. It'd grown purple and pale, the veins connecting under the tissue. "Unable to complete the work yourself," she answered his bemused face. "You have to sit within the confines of the hotel while John acts out the murders for you. You don't live the thrill yourself. It's so sad."

He sighed, "I know." Standing beside her, he said, "I've come to terms with this now. For decades, I sat here waiting for the right one. Dahmer, Ramirez, Gacy might've been great, but they disappointed me. They became so enthralled by their own visions, they never saw mine. I began losing hope after a while. Nobody grasped my genius or understood my work. I worried my designs will forever remain hidden." He linked her arm with his, "Then I met John. It was as if fate brought him to me. He had this rage about him; this black aura surrounded him. An aura black as night drew me to him. I knew I'd found the one. John became my greatest creation."

"What about me?" she pouted playfully.

He chuckled, "Oh love, you are much more than a creation. You're a masterpiece."

James cupped her jaw and kissed her. Her eyes stared into his. Joanne must've melted peering into those brown eyes. She knew she did.