The Good Guy
American Horror Story:Hotel, Chucky and Supernatural crossover fanfiction - Part 2
Masterlist
Word Count 8.719
Characters (main): Andy Barclay, Cassandra/ Val ( AHS Hotel OC), James Patrick March. The Countess ( mentioned), Chucky (mentioned). There is also a short contextual appearance of Donovan and Iris.
Warnings: This includes references to some of the fictionalized versions of real life serial killers that this season of AHS portrayed in Devil’s Night. None of them show up as characters, but their passing by the hotel is mentioned.
Relationships: Platonical: James and Cassandra’s bond as father and daughter. Initial hints of development for her friendship with Andy.
Romantical: James March x Elizabeth “The Countess” (James’s one sided obsession with her), Donovan x The Countess, Donovan x Cassandra ( mentions to a past of unrequired love on her part.)
Summary: Andy follows the trail of Chucky to Los Angeles, dragged there by the news of mysterious deaths happening around the production of a horror movie. The search takes him to the Hotel Cortez, where he checks in following the stay of potential victims of the killer doll.
There he will find himself unwittingly trapped between the opposed interests of the hotel’s owner and his daughter in a new game being played over his free will.
Notes: In this I’m picking up the original concept for the first Child’s Play film regarding the doubts about Andy’s innocence and I made a little reference to the origins of Chucky’s full name.
Also, I’m in the process of rewatching Hotel. The last time i watched it was like in 2018, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes regarding details of the season’s plot. I do remembered the greek mythology references that James did on his speech in Devil’s Night and that was a great inspiration for this, March loving classic literature feels canon to me.
Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @losersclubisms ( I don’t know if you would want to be tagged, but i’m showing you this like a child who shows an ugly draw with excitement lol)
Hotel Cortez - 2004
Cassandra wasn't able to think of anything else because guilt wouldn't let her. That sharp feeling in her chest that she thought forgotten was striking again. An emotion meant for children in the world she lived in, if there was such a thing as childhood for any kid in that place. Growing up was embracing apathy, resigning to the triumph of evil. After all, who was she to expect otherwise? From all the macabre things populating that hotel, her existence was one of the most unholy. Like her brother, she could be judged as an abomination, an infernal experiment who shouldn't have existed. Many times she has heard that from the spirits of dead hunters who rejected her post mortem help, some of them after getting themselves killed for ignoring her advice.
Bartholomew didn't count with her same luck because he came before her, at a time where their parents weren't fully aware of the infinitive possibilities in the world of the occult. Death showed James the way, but it took decades for him to realize the unlimited potential of his power on that limited territorial space. He was a gatekeeper for Hell, everything he would desire would be granted as long as he would fulfill his task... and what he once wanted was another child. A girl, since he and his wife already had a boy. A princess for his castle, a little thing to play family with from time to time on the sporadic dinner visits of the Countess to him, a bridge between them to keep her close.
Self awareness wasn't his strength and he liked to face his eternal life as a ghost under the delusion of having a happy marriage with a vampire woman who actually despised him, but who also happened to love collecting children to satisfy the maternal desires in her. Hell granted his wish and he got her, a daughter given to him without conception. A witch, her special nature making her irresistible for the mother to grow fond of due to the peculiarity she represented among her children. Their marriage was broken beyond repair, but sharing her gave James an illusion of improvement that was close to happiness.
Despite everything, Cassandra still loved her family and that was the most twisted aspect of her situation. The differences in her nature were the primary factor creating a distance between their ways and hers. Living there was hard for someone with her gifts, it implied a sharper perception of the darkness surrounding them. She learned to block to some extent the suffering of the prisoner spirits only after years of hard work with a very powerful witch that was consulted to help her talents flourish. However, that differential sensitivity experimented during a good chunk of her life setted a precedent in her personality. For as much as she would wish to block it as well, she developed empathy.
Then more than ever, it was biting her in the ass.
The Cortez was receiving a new special guest, another unlucky bastard who checked in without knowing that he would be selected to become James' new project. His obsession continued after death and his primary hobby was manipulating chosen targets into the making of a serial killer capable of following his legacy and finishing his unconcluded work. He never pushed it on her, he didn’t feel like doing it because her existence fulfilled a different need. Besides, getting to see the development of her particular talents was enough to make him proud of her as a parent.
Over the years, Cassandra observed many individuals come and go from the cursed corridor leading to room 64, most of them not remarkable enough to reach fame because only the worst of the worst would hit the headlines. With her name as fate, she pointlessly tried to warn many of them about the manipulations they would be being submitted to, as she also would do later for their victims about to be killed when there was no more hope on that front. Her words would inevitably fall on deaf ears and she would remain as a powerless observant of people running with excitement to their own demises. James liked to see it as a game to play with her, a way of bonding. In his point of view, it was a strategic game of influence. His lovely girl represented good while he was evil, both playing for the souls of selected mortals like a delightfully offensive biblical parody. He loved it, the minor challenge created by her irruptions made things more exciting. Being the caring father he considered himself to be, he was always there to comfort her on each defeat. The results were mostly in his favor, victories for her were extremely rare.
Two years before, after the death of Aileen Wournos, she decided to drop it out of inconmensurable hopelessness. That woman wasn’t one of the persons she tried to warn, she was too little at the time of her stay. However, perhaps because she was the only woman in that elite group of killers and she had vague memories about her that were rather depressing, her case had an emotional impact on her.
The warnings to the living stopped, she began to focus more in blocking the mourning spirits instead of helping. After two full years of staying at margin she believed herself ready to embrace apathy, to become careless once and for all.
Until he checked in to wake her up of her delusion.
The new guest was a sweet,shy man named Andy. They were around the same age, both being in their early twenties, and she felt an immediate connection with him.
Unfortunately, James picked him for himself on the spot.
A short peek into the room confirmed for him that he arrived armed to the teeth. The lack of any magical protection tokens disqualified him as a hunter, so he guessed that the young man was a killer of his own kind preparing his spree. James was very excited, but his daughter disagreed with the choice regardless of the evidence. Andy was quiet and sometimes even a bit awkward, but he wasn't Jeffrey Dahmer.
There was no depravity on him, no repression of obscure desires of a similar kind. He was sad, living in fear, and his darkness was closer to a depressing paranoia. Her readings of him pointed him as the survivor of some tragedy and her personal guess was locating it in his childhood. He had the blatant lack of security of someone who never got to feel sheltered and safe, who never got to be a child.
In the course of his days there, she began to become obsessed with him. He was a good person, a kind man in an unbearable amount of emotional pain that he wouldn't or couldn't share with anybody. Imagining what her father would make of him became intolerable to her and she was feeling the inmintent urge of protecting him.
Guilt and a tenue light of renovated hopes forced her back on the game. She liked Andy with his sweet awkwardness and his kindness making her feel good in his company at every little meeting they would get.
Even if he wouldn't listen, she was going to warn him.
It was past midnight, the worst hour of the place was getting closer and she had to find him before some horrible vision could disturb him. On the search she accidentally stumbled across Donovan. A mistake of the rush, since she usually tried to avoid him as much as possible because she didn't want more troubles. Things weren't at their best with her mother and it was partially because of him.
She wished he could just pretend he didn’t catch her, but he wasn’t going to let things go that way.
“ For how long are you going to keep ignoring me? It’s getting boring, Cass.“ He commented, cutting her any route of escape for that talk as he began to walk beside her.
" I have time to get over it, but that doesn't mean that I'm forgiving you. " She replicated, forcing eye contact for an instant just to prove that she was perfectly able to stare back at him." You humiliated me. "
His expression had a certain amount of disbelief.
" It was a natural reaction, I was surprised." He excused himself. " I'm curious... Did you really think that you could have had a chance with me? Did I actually break your heart, is that why you ignore me? "
" You are still alive because I allowed it, dad wanted you dead. " She clarified, reconquering her pride. " I told him that it would be pointless. You aren't worth the pain, you are already dead and ready to stay here for an eternity. Turning you into a ghost only changes your species, but you would be the same asshole."
" Are you a daddy's girl now? Is that why you changed me for that loser?” Donovan teased, mocking her weird obsession with Andy. " It's so sad, you must be so full of spite to do that. I don't want to give you hopes for saying this, but you are too pretty for him. You will never be The Countess, but that doesn't have to push you into looking so beneath your league. "
Cassandra didn’t care to dissimulate her annoyance and proceeded to cut him off.
" You are ríght, I will never be her. I found you interesting because I used to think that you were something more than a vain,entitled manchild. She knows who you are and wants you like that." She snarked back with satisfaction. " ... Goodnight, happy hunt. Take care of those fangs and try not to stink of blood afterwards. "
She was going to follow her intended path, but one last snark of his stopped her tracks.
" You say that I'm the manchild, but he is the one who came here to pick up his toys. "
" What the hell are you talking about?"
" Your good guy is too messed up in the head. " He explained, almost laughing at his own punchline. " I catched him stalking those guys from the studio like a total creep. What's your deal with him? Did you have a massive standard drop after I rejected you? It's frankly offensive to see you moving on from me to that freak. March's newest creep, seriously? And he is not even cute, you could have replaced me with someone who fills my shoes. "
" I don't owe you any explanations. If you think that the only reason someone can have to care for anyone else is that, then that is your problem and I'm the one who should feel sorry for you. It's not my fault if she taught you that when she rescued you.” Cassandra concluded, letting go for the first time an impression of a point that she knew that could hurt him. " I do think that Andy is cute, by the way. He may not be a model looking dude like you, but he doesn't need it. He has his own thing going on, very cute."
" He is a ridículous nutjob. Hasn't he told you yet that killer doll bullshit he has been saying to everyone? "
He didn’t, but she had already heard commentaries about it coming from the ones who got to hear him. She even catched him once talking about it with Liz at the bar and switching the topic the moment they saw her. Knowing that it bothered her, Liz tried to cheer her up that time claiming that he wasn’t comfortable with telling her about it because she must have been the only person in the hotel whose opinion he cared about enough to worry about sounding crazy.
" The guys he creeped? He told them that Chucky was going to kill them because of some movie their studio was making. By the way: Chucky is a doll.” Donovan continued, understanding her silence as a need for context explanation.” He asked every single alive and dead person of the staff if they may have seen it, he even came to me doing warnings of the great danger he thinks we are all facing. The stupid asshole thinks that the doll is doing the killing here!!!"
Strong chuckles coming out of him forced the telling to be interrupted for an instant.
" ... A freaking doll!! It's hilarious, we all should thank March for picking one of the funny weirdos this time. "
She didn't find it funny.
" You are a vampire, I'm a witch, we live among an infestation of ghosts, we are ruled by one and do I have to mention the Addiction Demon? How can anything sound crazy to you? " She complained. " Andy is a mortal trying to make sense with this cursed place, he will evocate for it the craziest things. Don't be a dick just because I don't find reasons to be skeptical. Many forms of magic use dolls, voodoo being the most known of the list."
" C'mon, nobody can take him seriously! Can you imagine it? Chucky, a little doll with his little feet and tiny hands chasing someone down the hallway? Holding a knife? Strangling someone? It's a fucking joke. "
“ What is your explanation then?”
" He has been killing for years, but he isn’t conscious of it and March is going to wake him up. I wouldn't grow fond of him if I were you. "
It was a warning out of kindness, his way of proposing a truce, but Cassandra prefered to believe in her own self imagined theory. It was easier for her to imagine Andy as the víctim of some voodoo curse than thinking that he could be yet another serial killer with an alter ego symbolizing childhood. Chucky the doll couldn’t be another Pogo the clown, there had to be another explanation.
The descriptions that Donovan made didn't disencourage her. Killer doll thing aside, Andy's heroic behavior was indisputable. His first instinct to the perceptions of the paranormal activity surrounding them was wanting to help people, warning them of the danger. Reckless, but incredibly kind hearted. That was who Andy was, a clumsy but well intentioned guy whose will to help could often surpass his preservation instinct.
A genuinely good person, the rare kind that was worth fighting for.
After a moderately desperate search, she found him in the corridor that led to his room and he was a mess. Sat on the floor with his back against the door, he was crying out of impotence and confusion.
" No,no,no.." She rushed to comfort him, sitting beside him and not minding for anything else. " Darling, what's wrong?"
Andy replied without daring to look at her.
" It doesn't matter, you wouldn't believe me. No one does. "
The resignation in his tone as he tried to control the sobbing in her presence hitted her hard. She had been there before.
" Don't say that, lovely. I will, if you tell me. I promise. "
The softness of her voice and the real caring that was easily perceptible in her were tempting him to do it, but he was afraid of being open and honest with her.
" You will leave if i tell you, it wouldn't be the first time that happens. "
He still refused to look at her and she began to stroke his hair in a calming way.
" What if I tell you that I can see things that most people can't?" She wondered in an affirmation, with sweet excitement. " I have been called crazy before, I can tell many things that you wouldn't believe. "
Andy remained silent for an instant before feeling the courage to talk.
" I heard screams, followed the sound and there was this man... He was stabbed everywhere, bleeding out in front of me and then .. he was gone. "
The disturbed emotions dificulted the telling, but she had a vague idea of what he saw. An echo, ghost trapped in the infinite repetition of the moment of death. The description made her think that he could be one of the main sacrifices of Devil's Night. Dying in such horrible and confusing circumstances often turned them into the most confused spirits of the place.
"People always come to die here, that's not something we can stop. This place can not be destroyed,only closed, but a power greater than us needs it open. The man you saw could have died years ago. " She tried to explain to him without alarming him even more. " Most hotels are haunted in some way. Some more, some less. I have struggled with horrible visions my whole life. It ruined my childhood. "
Andy dared to shyly look at her and she smiled for him. It was her way to show him that she was fine.
That time, he was who felt called out in her sayings.
" Do you believe in ghosts?" He asked, a vague startpoint to check if the feeling that he was getting from her was correct.
" Of course, there are good ghosts and bad ones. Spirits used to be people, their world is as diverse and complex as humanity."
" How about when a serial killer dies?"
The opportune question was on point for the warnings that she initially intended to give him. She felt as if he would have read her mind and replied with clear thoughts she had about her father and his friends, the merryly cursed group that Andy was about to be guided into joining.
" The ones bringing death to others are usually the most terrified about their own deaths. It's tables turning, karma or whatever. The only thing that scares them more than death is the police arriving."
He let go a little chuckle, cute despite the context. It was like both knew more about the topic than what they were willing to confess to each other.
" So, you believe that those can choose to stay because they like to keep hurting people. "
" Because they are scared. " She corrected him. " Even the most disorganized are creatures of habit, but death shakes everything they knew before. It equates them with their victims, reminds them that they are human. Plenty of serial killers enjoy believing themselves above the rest of humankind, they think that they are stronger because they dared to break the barriers that civilized morals establish for what is human. Death leaves them in the same hopeless condition of the people they killed, strips them from clinging to that delusion. It's the moment of truth and not all of them can take it. "
He was watching and listening to her in awe. With each answer he felt a bit closer to his first chance of being understood without proof. His hopes were being nurtured as hers.
" Are you a medium, a True Crime researcher or what?"
" Neither of both things,something in the middle. I know way too much about dead seríal killers to not be called crazy. " She pointed out, teasing her own confession. " Also about a few who are still alive, but we are occupying ourselves with the dead ones now.. Dead serial killers and their smart haunting mechanisms to avoid facing their final judgements."
" Like, for instance... Possessing a doll ?" He asked what he meant as an affirmation, excitement changing his semblant to the possibility of finding someone who could believe in him. " Do you think that can be a thing?"
" ... Or possessing entire buildings, like this hotel. " She added, fearing afterwards for the awkward switch. " ... But yeah, dolls too. Why not? The dark spirit can be a minimalist. "
At that point, everything encouraged him to continue.
" Do you believe in magic? Not card tricks, witchcraft. "
" Yes, I do. " The witch innocently confirmed, still not ready to come out to him as what she was. " Do you want to know something more? I believe that there is a fascinating and dangerous correlation between serial killers and magic. "
" No way!!! Really? " He exclaimed with evident enthusiasm. " Please, explain it."
"The majority don't accomplish shit, but lots of them fantasize about controlling some form of mystical power. I guess it is part of their delusion of being exceptional. There are tons of examples: Richard Ramírez and his obsession with satanism, Jeffrey Dahmer and the zombies. He used the means of a mad scientist, but the ends were essentially magical. What he would have needed to fulfill his twisted dream was some good old voodoo or greek necromancy. Things would have been far worse then. It's terrifying, thinking about what a maniac can do with the ríght book. “
" It’s horrible. " Andy followed her, the validation obtained on their talk was priceless. It was more than what he ever expected.
" Did you come across one, Andy? A maniac who found the ríght book? Is that what you hope to find here? "
He gave her an avoidant reply,
" What do you know about voodoo?"
" Not much, but I can start researching for you."
They remained silent, subtly staring at each other before bursting into laughter. Incontrolable chuckles shared in the non addressed happiness of being listened to. Out of sudden, Cassandra huged Andy as if they would have known each other for a lifetime. He didn't see it coming, but allowed it because it felt nice.
The support of a stranger who wouldn't have any reasons to believe them was precisely what both weren't expecting to find on each other. His truth isolated him from anyone new he would try to approach, while she remained somewhat in service of the hotel because she could only share hers with the perpetual residents.
Where else would she feel understood, if the only life she knew was there? Who would want to be with her, if the only connections she had could be counted among the obscure creatures of the hotel? She believed for so long that there was nothing left for her outside, only loneliness and eventual death by the hands of some hunter that would get to her with ease without the dark protection of the Cortez over her. The moments of connection felt with someone from the outside were enough to reanimate the questioning, to make her doubt everything.
The exactitude she had in the following of his trail of thoughts weirded Andy a little bit, but he was more amazed than scared. He had spoken with tons of other unaware people before, but that never happened. She proved not only to be willing to believe him, but also formulated a correct theory by herself. Was she more aware than what he believed her to be or simply crazier than average? In any way, he was feeling grateful for the non asked support found so atypically.
The blissful moment ended with an interruption.
" Get up, sunshine. You have work to do, if you still want it. Room 37." Iris told the girl, ignoring the context with certain disgust.
Cassandra stared back at her to show that she understood the true meaning of her ask.
After that, her attention was back on Andy.
" I loved to have this talk with you. " She softly told him. " Not many people would bother to listen to me, my ideas are too strange for most. They don't get that living here for so long is what shapes them. Experience teaches you to keep an open mind everyday if you live here long enough. "
Andy gave her an awkward smile while he clumsily stood up at the same time she did.
" Rich people are too skeptical, I guess. " Was all he could manage to answer. " It was great, thank you..."
" ... Cassandra. " She finished, reminding him of her name because he was getting nervous. Probably ashamed while watched over by Iris, who seemed to be surveilling their interaction with tattling interest. " You are welcome, Andy. Sweet dreams, you need to rest. If someone or something bothers you let me know. Don't be afraid of coming to me. It doesn't matter how crazy it would sound to you, I will believe you. "
He avoided her glance before replying.
" ... I will. Thank you, Cassandra. "
She gave him a kiss on the cheek as part of her goodbye before following the very impatient woman. Andy watched her from afar, still struggling to process what happened, and returned to his room.
What he found there almost ruined his mood because of the off putting weirdness. There was a man in front of his improvised desk, sitting on his chair and reading all his gathered information about Chucky. Notes,newspaper articles from past murders and the current ones he was trying to connect to him, some very few police reports he accomplished to get. He was calmly revisiting everything as if he intended to do the work for him, like if they were in some sort of partnership.
They had met before, a very polite man of high status who used to frequently stumble across him. They would even involve in some talking every time because he was just that much friendly and eccentric.
He had no idea how the man of strange accent and vintage clothes entered his room.
" Andrew!!" He saluted him with his usual formal cordiality, abandoning his readings. " I took some liberties to check on your efficiently cataloged work. I hope you don't mind my intromission, dear boy."
"... I would like to know who gave you my key."
The recrimination didn't bother him in the slightest.
" Nonsensical details distracting you from the truly important matters. " He simply replicated. " I must say I found this fascinating except for just one aspect: the signature. It's bizarre, reputation damaging. We will have to start working on finding something better for you, more frightening and mature than those hideous dolls. It was understandable for your developmental years, but It isn't functional anymore."
"... That is private, you weren't supposed to read it. " Andy complained, trying to dissimulate his annoyance and the lack of understanding he had over most things coming out of him.
" Is this Charles Lee Ray your lifetime's inspiration? You seem quite obsessed with him." He casually wondered. " The Lakeshore Strangler was frankly mediocre. Over the same decade he was completely outshined by the Night Stalker. I understand that he operated in your home city, but he is unworthy of your devotion. There are greater things in your future, you will triumph where he failed!"
Andy couldn't or didn't want to understand what he meant, so he limitated que to thank what he interpreted as aware encouragement.
" Taking him down is all I have wanted since I was six. " He explained as part of his attempt to make him head out of the room. " I appreciate your good intentions, Mr March, but I don't feel comfortable allowing others to get involved. I work alone."
His listener interpreted his words equally wrong.
" Only six years old.... Astonishingly young!!” James commented, marveled. " You are a prodigy, It would be my pleasure to guide you in a complete exploration of your potential."
He almost forgot how fed up with that place he was. All Andy needed to do was wait until Chucky would show up to kill the guests from the studio that intended to make a movie about him, but it was taking more time than all the previous deaths surrounding the production.
No signs of him, but an imminent feeling of constant danger caused by the impression of being surveilled. Chucky could be everywhere or nowhere and he had no way to know. Despite what Cassandra told him about the shade of a man he tried to help, the stabwounds said otherwise to him. She may have seen a lot of ghosts, but she didn't know Chucky like he did. The thought of his very much hated old plastic buddy coming to get her became unbearable to him.
" If you want to help me, keep an eye on Cassandra. The Countess doesn't seem that worried about her daughter, but if you are an old time resident, she must trust you." He asked, unaware of being talking with her father. " Keep her safe, it wouldn't look good if I do it. I would come to her as a stalker and she wouldn't trust me anymore. Make sure she is okay, it is important. She has been so sweet to me, if anything happens to her..."
" That girl is the light in my eyes, I love her as much as I love her mother. " March clarified, slightly pleased to hear him praise her. " Count with it, there is no need for your heroism. Not at least in the current sense of the word. "
Andy was feeling progressively more confused.
" I'm not a hero. "
" Yet, you are not, but you will be." James introduced another one of his philosophical rambles about literarian iconography. " Do you know what being a hero used to mean before cristian knights and saints co-opted that term? ... Exceptional, remarkable, a conception disprovisted of any moral valoration. A hero used to be anyone who dared to perform acts beyond mortality. A man beyond humanity, not a holy man.”
" I appreciate whatever you think you are doing, but I don't care. "
" I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson. " March insisted. " Think, for instance, of the classical heroes. Each one of them formed a reputation through certain abilities and an específic code of conduct that implied the committing of inhumane crimes. Achilles was the fastest and most brutal, known for the horrendous malice of his vengeance over the corpse of Hector. Odysseus was the most intelligent, his mind plannified the prolific genocide of the trojans. Heracles was the strongest, but he was also known for being the murderer of his entire family. Then we have the House of Atreus: child sacrifices, antropofagy, incest and parricide."
" I don't see your point, sorry. " Andy cutted him off, visibly tired and confused.
" Villains were an invention of cristians, being a hero used to mean becoming able to perform acts against nature. Exceed the limits of humanity and be worshiped or feared in the memory of the people. To leave your mark in history, become a legend. " James concluded the explanation. " You are not like everyone else, Andrew. Your exceptionality isolates you because you are not meant to belong among them. Fame, glory and immortality is what awaits those who are brave enough to leave humanity behind. "
The intricate speeches weren't feeling good to him, he got the sense that something was wrong. Even if the girl didn't get to make her warning, she helped him to spot a manipulation tactic. March was repeating what Cassandra said about the hopes and fears of serial killers. Andy didn't guess ríght away to be in the presence of one, but the resonation of words kept him alert. He understood vaguely that she was subtly warning him not to trust in that man.
He believed in her. If Iris wouldn't have pulled her away, she may have seen it herself.
She headed to do what she was told to, but she would have prefered to receive the news from Liz. Talking in the way with Donovan's mother was awkward, especially because she had her own interpretation of what she saw.
" You have been very busy with that boy lately. " She pretended very badly to comment casually. " It's a good move. Dono will value what you had if he sees you with someone else. It's a shame that you two aren't close anymore, you were his best friend here."
Cassandra avoided answering in order to watch over her own energies for the tasks she had to do.
Unfortunately, Iris saw it as encouragement to keep insisting. Using a particularly complicit tone in that next try.
" I know how you feel for him. The Countess is just using him, but you love him. Maybe he would miss your love if we make him believe that someone else has it. "
The young witch was trying hard to keep the emotional balance, but the woman made her too angry.
" Of course, it was you !!! Who else would be eating his brain with that crap?? Stop, Iris. I'm not spending time with Andy to make Donovan jealous."
...But it would be a good idea if you would, a mother knows. He will make it look like he doesn't care, but he will be upset. "
" You don't do what he did to me to someone you care about. “ She tried to explain to her. “He was in all his ríght to reject me when he found out, but he chose to do it in the cruelest and most humilliating way. Whatever I thought I felt, he killed it. That compulsive need to prove his loyalty to my mother was more important to him than showing basic care for me at the time of breaking my heart. "
" I'm sure he didn't mean it, maybe he wasn't thinking about it. "
" You don't understand. I never expected him to reciprocate, I knew he would never be mine and I was fine with being his friend. All I would have expected of him when finding out my feelings was a softer reaction. I wanted him to let me know of the obvious without hurting me: a shoulder to cry on, a nice speech saying that he didn't feel the same but still loved me as a friend... Anything but what he actually did. He laughed at me, Iris, and the entire hotel found out. I felt like the most worthless piece of trash, I don't know what would have been of me if it wasn't for Liz."
" Where was your mother in all of this?"
" That is not the point. I was so wrecked that I ended up listening romantical advice from dad... Do you know how terrible his advice is? He tries so hard and i love him, but he thinks that murder is a viable solution for everything. "
" Thank God that you don't follow his criteria. " Iris commented, with relief. " Isn't he...?"
" Planning the murder of Donovan? " The girl followed her. " Nah, we got a better idea. I will be practicing my most witchy cackle for when mom would eventually dump him. When he will be destroyed by the heartbreak I will get my revenge. Dad called it ‘ the way of Paris and Oenone’. The question may be how many decades it will take, so we started making bets. "
" That heartless bitch is unbelievable... What kind of mother chooses her vanity over the happiness of her child?" Iris kept ranting, deviating the conversation into her object of hate. " It even feels like she enjoys having won the competition against her twenty years old daughter. "
" It was never a competition because I never tried to compare myself with her. " Cassandra clarified. " Stop excusing him. We all know that she is a bit of a bitch who loves to generate irresponsible emotional dependency on others, but Donovan had the choice of not being a jackass. Trying to manipulate me against my mother as if I wouldn't know who she is will not help you. "
" I want to help because I believe he is too blind to see that he could be happier with you."
" You are deceiving yourself because you think that Donovan could fall for me and the effect of what you perceive as my good influence over him would help your cause. " Cassandra cutted her off. " You blame my mother for your problems, you think that if we get together he is going to suddenly see you as the best mother on earth. That is not going to happen, don't force it because you are making things worse. "
" I want the best for both of you. You are a sweet girl who has loved him for years, such a devoted daughter to your mother and that bitch abuses of the gift that you are. "
" Iris, I'm not what Donovan wants. In any case, I'm the daughter in law that you want. " She kindly tried to explain to her. " It's flattering, it shows that you appreciate me in some way, but it's going to lead nowhere. Please, just... Stop. "
In a more sensitive approach to what would correspond to Iris’ intrusive attitude, Cassandra finished the clarification by holding her hand in a calming way. Her intention was to show her that, even when she sounded angry, she was able to understand the root of her frustrations and wasn’t truly upset with her. All she needed was for her to see that her attempts of helping were creating more damage, she didn't want to make her feel bad about the unresolved tensions with her son.
After that, the girl proceeded to make her point.
“ Andy has only one picture on his nightstand and it is of his mom, Miss Evers saw it and asked him about it. You should have seen how radiantly happy she was when she came to tell me her findings.“ She commented pretending the same casual approach Iris faked with her but making it on purpose for her to notice the irony. “ From what I could figure out from her, his mother raised him alone. She must have faced the struggles you had in your time. This boy’s childhood wasn’t easy, something or someone back then broke him in a way I can't still deduce. He still loves his momma and doesn't blame her for the tragedies in his life.”
Iris wasn’t adding any remarks, imagining the blatant adoration the maid ghost must have imprinted in the tale. In life she had been another lonely mother in a judgemental time, but her luck was worse than hers because she was doomed to eternally mourn a lost child who was killed by a sadistic kidnapper. If the implications of the anecdote were right, talking with that boy must have been a sweet comfort for her as the troubled soul she was.
“ I tell you this not because I want to guilt trip you, but to help you see why Andy matters so much to me. “ The girl concluded. “ He is a good guy, I can’t give up and let my father destroy all the goodness in him. “
They reached the hallway leading to her destination in peaceful silence, no more words were needed in order to find a mutual understandment. Only while standing in front of the indicated door Iris spoke again in a reminder for her to be careful in the approach of the matter that needed her. It was a moderate spiritual cleanse of the room after a murder, something she would do because purification rituals were impossible to practice there. Her attempt of making a kind reception for new ghosts, to help them come out of their initial lethargy in a less violent awakening under her guidance.
After that, she was ready to spend the night awake digging in her humbly self built magical library trying to find the right reference to put together the puzzle that Andy brought her with his question. Voodoo and dolls were the main clues, but she was a bit lost about the part including the serial killer ghost. The only use of dolls in voodoo that she was aware of wasn’t fitting with the vague description she got from him. It would make sense as a method to kill victims without leaving evidence, but she never heard of techniques for doll possession in the soul transferring sense. That was more proper of a haunting, an inaccurate word that could be somewhat used to describe how James stayed in the hotel after his suicide. There were many non specified details that wouldn’t allow her a clear comprehension of the case: In which degree was the possession manifesting? Was the doll a conduct like Annabelle,the possessed Raggedy Ann doll once claimed to be the tool of a demon? Was he an animated object providing a lifeful body for his occupant, what in the slang of exorcists would be called a ‘vessel’? Turning a lifeless object into one would surely require particular magical assistance to work while regular hauntings didn’t take more than anger or confusion. The ‘how?’ in that theory was the part driving her insane.
Answers weren’t easy to find, but she wasn’t giving up. With the puzzle solved Andy would have no option but to share the whole truth and then he would connect some missing dots for her. They needed to get there and she needed to put in the effort if she wanted to make him trust her for real, because he wasn’t going to raise his walls easily. The creativity to come up with a solution was there, but trying to find anything useful was a nightmare. All she had about voodoo were vague references in texts that weren’t about the topic. From all the infinite forms of magic that she could be reading about, Andy asked her about one of the most hermetic circles of witchcraft existing in the country. Even satanism was easier to research without access to the right people. She was getting frustrated and unexpected intromission made it worse.
Her father, deck of cards in hand, appeared as if he would be inviting her to give up.
“ Your disturbed humor is making me sad.” James commented, concern in his voice and a genuinely loveful tone. “ Don’t waste more of your time, my dear. There will always be another one for you to claim and this amount of involvement you are delivering is hurting us both. We can play plenty of other games together: Chess, cards … Would you join me for a hand? “
She raised her head, abandoning her reading to stare at him with annoyed disbelief.
“ I’m not in the mood for cards, dad. This isn’t a game anymore. Not for me, at least.” Was her strongly determined reply. “ He will never be yours, I’m not going to allow it. I will get him out of here even if that means I will have to carry him out myself.”
James was mixing the cards with a playful attitude while standing close to her desk. He wanted to make her feel better, prepare her for what he saw as a crushing defeat with possibilities of getting her hurted. She let it get personal to a dangerous limit, her care for that boy wasn’t a simple humanistic reaction.
Emotional attachment, a terrible mistake.
“ Something has changed in you. I’m not blind to your misadventures, but never before you reached such desperation to protect any of my chosen ones. There is no amusement for me in your pain and you shouldn’t be suffering for this young lad. He may be gifted, but he is unworthy of you. Your fates will never tangle: Andrew is a nobody and you are my daughter. From darkness you were made for me to become my joy and I'm not willing to let him steal you away from me.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her to find out that he reached the same conclusion Iris did, because as a parent he adored her in an overwhelming way.
“ I’m not in love with Andy… What the hell is wrong with everybody here?”
The answer seemed plausible to him.
“ I’m dead, darling. Not stupid.” He added, with skepticism. “ I can feel it crushing your heart. It may not be the love meant for lovers, but you love him and that is a problem.”
There were no secrets between them, not at least on her part. She didn’t mind being honest about her feelings and thoughts about him in the way she interpreted those.
“ He listens to me, no matter how crazy I sound to all the other outsiders. I feel that Andy understands me in ways no one else ever did. I want to find out, but everytime i’m close to do it, it slips away from me.”
He was smiling at her, as if the reasons given were very typical of her and he was happy to have got at least one guess of parent right.
“ … Cassandra, my splendid princess. “ He praised her, the adoration in his voice was comforting to some extent. “ When your mother agreed with me in the discussion of the name we were going to give you, we never imagined you were going to embrace it so foundly. All I wanted was to name you after a mystical lady from classic literature to honor your exceptional nature. “
“... The argument was between three final options: Medea,Cassandra or Morgana.” She completed the rest of a story she heard him tell thousands of times.” Mom chose Cassandra because, despite it being Greek in origin, it sounded Italian to her. “
“ Mortals will hear only what they are ready for, you are cursing yourself assuming that obligation. “ He followed her, using the metaphor with her name to make a point. “ Not that you aren’t radiant enough for a god to curse you out of unrequired feelings. “
The obvious joke made her chuckle.
“ Stop it, dad !” She playfully thanked him while trying to get serious again. “ You would understand why I do it if you could feel things in the way I do. Do you think about how much time of training I needed to be able to sleep without depending on mom’s special blessing? You know it well, when I was a kid she had to sedate me with her charm so I could find peace at night. It isn’t easy for me, papa. Even now, things don’t get better. The very same people who ignore me in life come back begging for my help in death and they are very loud.”
“ Rowena is a special guest always welcomed here, we can request her help again.“
“ I can’t control my compulsion to warn the living because I am emotionally affected by the pain of the dead. “ She insisted, trying pointlessly to explain herself. “ She helped in everything she could, but she can’t fix the way I feel. I don’t need you to understand it, i know you can’t but i love you anyways. The thing is that, for some reason I don't know, Andy gets it. “
Listening to her with attentive carefulness made him feel reassured in the imperious need of disappointing her. It needed to be done, regardless of the outcome of the game. In the best case for him, the man would come out as a killer by himself and she would be devastated. In the worst, if she was ríght and the darkness in him wasn't enough to be turned into pure evilness, he could be giving her a hopeful purpose to abandon the hotel.
He would kill him before letting that happen. If what his princess wanted was a new friend, he would give her one to keep forever.
Still uncertain about having to get that far, he proceeded to make the calculated entrance to disappointing her of him.
" Andrew is obsessed with the Lakeshore Strangler, a non-transcendental name operating in his home city when he was a kid. It is a long date issue, the origins are placed past his sixth birthday. It can't be a coincidence and I have reasons to believe that he already has some victims on his count. It wouldn't be the first time that happens, many of my associates don't come here to commit their first murder. For instance, Jeffrey did his first experiment long before our meeting. "
The comparison made her incredibly angry. The rage in her eyes indicated to him that the comment crossed the line.
" I knew that you were going to do this!! Is it because of the shyness and military background? Stop projecting crap on him, Andy is not who you think he is. He is not some awkward pervert like Dahmer and Chucky isn't like Gacy's Pogo. Call me naive, call me crazy ... I don't mind it, I believe in him. "
Rushing to rectify the verbal mistake, James still kept the same intentionality.
" Fair enough, my dear. I may have chosen an imprecise example for my statement, but that doesn't exonerate Andrew from all he has been hiding from you. "
He handed her a piece of paper conveniently stolen from the room in his late night visit to the fed up man. It was a news article about a supposedly accidental massacre that happened at Kent Academy, a military school. Despite it was declared an accident, the facts implied massive red flags for a shooter.
" Most of the deceased were in his class. " Her father explained to her while the girl read in avid shock." Doesn't that remind you of someone?"
Cassandra didn't reply, she didn't want to remember that boy.
" If that ghost deceived you once... Why wouldn't this lad?" James insisted in an ambivalent tone inviting doubt. " You need to be protected from your kindness. It is my responsibility as your father to save you the suffering. "
She couldn't speak because she couldn't think her words right. Thoughts were getting blurry as tears started to flow.
James pretended to close the issue summarizing his interpretation for her, not wishing to upset her more.
" Mr Barclay has a peculiarity absent in all of my previous attempts. He is a guideless killer who proved himself willing to continue the work of someone else. A mediocre inspiration, but one he follows with obsession... Charles Lee Ray, that petty burglar of Chicago. He would have had better luck following Charles Manson, at least he was one of my students."
The out of place joke awakened her of her own desperation induced lethargy.
" CHARLIE!!! A six years old would have called him Charlie!!" She screamed to herself, looking legitimately crazy at the moment of the epiphany. " If the doll would be a representation of Charles that little Andy imagined as his killer menthor, he would be a Charlie, not a Chucky. No kid would think of naming a Charles Chucky before Charlie. Manson is the most famous Charles and those who wish to nickname him call him Charlie. CHUCKY IS A SELF GIVEN NICKNAME THAT THE FUCKING BASTARD USES TO DIFFERENCIATE HIMSELF FROM MANSON!!! "
Her hopes were unbreakable. Her father was astonished to see her finding one new stretched reason to believe in that stranger.
" Watch your language. It's not proper of a lady to swear like that. " He reprimanded her before going back to his point." I fail to see how a nomenclature difference can be enough justification for you... Cassandra, you are making yourself blind to everything but what your visions of him dictate. "
She stared deeply into his eyes after cleaning her face. Her eyes had the challenging fire of someone who would be ready to die defending their truth.
" I believe in Andy because he believes in me. "
There was nothing that could be done, his daughter was determined to insist in that stance.
" If that is your verdict, then I can't save you the pain. " He concluded. " The least you can do for me is postpone this vain search for explanations until tomorrow, since I already gave you a name to start over from a different angle. Isn't that more than what you have obtained so far?"
She knew he was ríght and she didn't mind admitting it.
" Ask Miss Evers to make us some coffee and we can go to your room. I'm not tired enough to not play cards with my father."
" Splendid !!" He exclaimed, showing a happy enthusiasm that he typically reserved only for her and her mother.
They made him happy, but the young witch wasn't fully aware of how important her company was for him. It was her reason for existence, or at least one of the main ones he found to wish for her. He only had one night per month to be with his wife, but his daughter was available anytime he required it. Keeping her was a priority, even if it would imply the sacrifice of his new pawn.
His guilt or innocence on past crimes mattered very little. His only options would be learning to kill for him or perish on the negatory to make sure that Cassandra wouldn't follow him out.
