Hummingbird // AHS Hotel

Chapter Seven: The Dress

♪ Luxurious - Gwen Stefani ♪

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I stood with the Countess near the bar, as she talked with Liz about something. I had zoned out of their conversation, and was glancing around me anxiously. I hadn't seen James since our last meeting in which I'd attempted to question him, he had choked me, and then we'd had sex. Though satisfying, the whole ordeal was very embarrassing, especially considering how I'd told him I hated him before and after we did it. I was evidently very bad at following through with my plans.

I was in the midst of a moral dilemma: did having sex with a serial killer, dead or otherwise, make me a horrible person? Was I closer in nature to him than I originally thought? No. Though it wasn't admirable of me, it did not make me a monster. I wasn't attracted to anything about his personality, and the things he did still repulsed me. The only thing I liked about him now was his physical looks.

The Countess had stopped by my room earlier, asking if I wanted to come to the bar with her just to talk. I had accepted, both wanting to actually spend time with her and hoping that maybe James would avoid me if I was with her. 

With a jolt, I realized James was walking in our direction. Our eyes met for the tiniest fraction of a second before I turned back to the bar, pretending to be very invested in Liz and the Countess' conversation. Unfortunately, Liz was now tending to Sally, who sat at the bar a few seats away. I prayed that he would continue walking, leaving us alone, but to my dismay I felt a presence behind us. 

"Good afternoon, ladies," James said from behind us, and I cringed, knowing I would have to face him. The Countess and I turned around as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I have something for you," he said to me, reaching into his coat pocket.

I didn't have time to wonder what it was before James handed me an envelope, a wax seal monogrammed with "JMP" on the back holding it closed. I opened it, finding a folded piece of paper. After unfolding that I found a message printed in fancy script:

You are cordially invited to this year's Devil's Night celebration. 10pm, October 30th. Room 64, Hotel Cortez. 

"What's Devil's Night?" I asked him. The Countess peered over my shoulder at the invitation, which was for later that night.

"Oh. It's his birthday party," she said flatly.

"Well, yes," James said, maintaining his composure. "But it's also the event of the season."

"I didn't know today was your birthday," I said, almost apologetically.

"Yes, the night before Halloween. But this party is not merely a celebration of me, it is a celebration of this country's greatest serial killers and all they've achieved." He waved his hand dramatically as if describing something magical.

"Okay..." I said, hesitant but intrigued. "Who else is invited?"

"This year's list includes Ramirez, Gacy, Dahmer, Wuornos, the Zodiac, and our newest addition, John Lowe."

"Besides John those people are all dead," I said. "And they're all serial killers. Why are you inviting me?"

"On this day the spirits are allowed to travel to the Hotel Cortez for a wonderful evening of festivities," James smiled gleefully. "I figured you might benefit from hearing the perspectives of some others like me. Also, the food will be delicious."

I looked at him strangely; he certainly had odd approaches to things. His solution to my disapproval of his murderous hobby was to invite me to his birthday party the day after we'd hate-fucked?