DYING LIGHT | James Patrick March [paused]

07

Lilith's head felt like there was a jackhammer taken to it when she woke up. For the first hour, all she could do was press her face into the pillows and try to block out the light. It was when she finally forced herself to rise from the bed that fragments of the night started to return. Fragments and then chunks, chunks and then all of it.

The suave man at the bar had been a murderous ghost and for some reason, saved her from another murderous ghost and offered his expertise in helping her carry out her own murders.

"That's a trip." She mumbled as she dried her hair, "That's what I get for mixing hard liquor." Dressing herself in a little green sundress and touching a bit of makeup to her face to hide the hungover pallor of her skin. She was in desperate need of breakfast and a good coffee. Setting out, she glanced back and fourth down the hall finding it clear.

Lilith had been raised religious but always stayed skeptical. It wasn't in her nature to believe in anything that couldn't be proved. If she hadn't seen that creature disappear before her eyes last night, she wouldn't have believed James for a moment. She still wasn't sure she did. Maybe he was fucking with her and she'd spilled her beans over a prank.

The elevator shuttered as the doors to the lobby opened. It was Iris at the desk as she approached, "Good morning, Miss Morana." She greeted with a slight smile.

"Lilith, please." She implored with a smile, "I was wondering where the best place nearby for breakfast would be."

"The parlour down the street is good. It's just a block down." Iris responded, "The Joyce if you want to travel for it."

"Perfect. Thank you, Iris." Lilith beamed, pushing away from the counter. She didn't make it a step before she paused.

"Erm.. there's one more thing." The woman said, her wide eyes seeming even bigger behind her saucer like glasses. "A letter for you."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she excepted the letter, examining her name in beautiful calligraphy on the front. Until she saw that, she was thinking it would be some hateful note from one of her brothers. Seeing the writing, her second thought was James.

"It's from the Countess. She owns the hotel." Iris said cautiously, rubbing her hands together slightly.

"Should that worry me? I've only been here a day, I don't think I've broken any rules." Lilith said, turning the letter over in her hands. It was sealed with an ornate wax stamp. She couldn't quite make out the symbol but didn't examine it too hard for the moment.

"I doubt you've done anything wrong." Iris assured, though the assurance didn't reach her eyes, "I'm sure it's just curiosity."

"Right.." Lilith looked back down at the envelope for a moment before back at Iris, "Thank you. I'm gonna go get breakfast."

With that she headed out of the hotel, making her way down the street at a leisurely pace. It was a mostly sunny day, clouds blocking out the beams once in a while obstructing the heat. She made it to the small cafe quickly, ordering herself the largest coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich on the menu. Seated and taking a deep drink of the restorative beverage, she pried the wax seal off the envelope and slid the thick parchment out.

Lilith had only received a letter once before, alerting her to the entitlement of her grandfather's estate and also the news of his death. It had been in a thick, legal sized envelope. This was no where near the size and she hoped it wouldn't contain anything anything near as upsetting.

The paper smelled like bergamot. Not strongly but contrasting enough to the earth coffee shop scent that she could distinguish it. She unfolded the paper and began to read the perfect cursive inside, written in an astonishingly red ink.

Lilith,
I hope you don't find this letter odd, given we've not yet crossed paths. Regardless, I make it my business to learn of every person of interest who enters my hotel. I hope you'll do me the honour of having dinner with me in the penthouse tonight at 8 O clock. Wear something beautiful.
Yours,
The countess.

It was short and to the point, slightly presumptuous. It didn't seem like no was an option. Lilith read the letter over again a couple of times, each time her eyes getting stuck on three key words.

Person of interest. A normal person might have taken it as a compliment, a compliment to their intrigue. Lilith didn't see it that way. She was acutely aware that her guard was only up because she would soon be a person of interest in the world's oldest crime.

There was no way this woman knew that though. How could she, they'd never met. Her mind drifted to James. Overwhelmed by being saved, she'd spilled too much. It'd been a long time since anyone had Lilith's back and she was beginning to wonder if that was a fatal mistake.

Perhaps, the countess was dead too. It was hard to say. She no longer knew who was really alive or dead within the walls of the hotel. Iris, Liz, the guy she crossed paths with briefly in the elevator: they could all be dead for all she knew. Nothing felt real.

Lilith kept reading the letter over as she demolished the breakfast sandwich and inhaled her coffee, buying another for the road. She had one more stop to make before she returned to the hotel to seal herself away from the city's prying eyes. Heading down the street in the direction her phone's map took her, she continued to dwell.

There weren't many countesses running around now of days. At least, none that Lilith could name. Fewer, she was sure, lurking around Los Angeles. Countess of what? It was tacky if it was just of the Hotel Cortez. How big does your head have to be to name yourself the countess of something? She figured she'd find out soon enough.

She lit a cigarette as she walked, inhaling the deathly fumes deeply. Lilith hated smoking, ironically. For a long time, she'd avoided it at all costs. It was around when her grandfather died that she bought a pack of menthols and she hadn't stopped since. It grounded her. She wasn't one of those people that puffed on them to the point they looked more steam train than person but she did have at least a few throughout a day. Just to remind herself she was still alive. To feel that burn in her throat and the heat in her lungs and be certain she still occupied her body.

Several pairs of eyes turned on her as she entered the Arms store, she didn't exactly look like their normal clientele. It was foolish to have nothing more than a revolver but it had felt dangerous to travel with anything more.

"Uh, what're you looking for, mam?" The man behind the desk asked. Her eyes perused over the assortment of weapons around her. A multitude of heavy artillery guns and knives lined the walls.

"I'm going on a hunting trip," Lilith said thoughtfully, "Looking to stock up. It's my first time."

"What kinda game?" He asked, following her to look at the hunting knives under the counter. Her lips ticked up in a small smile, resisting the urge to make any sort of comment about the most dangerous game.

"A little of everything, I hope." She said, "I'm hoping to get a few different things for the group. I'd like to look at this one, please." By the time she was done, the shop keeper was trying very hard to hide his concern. She had about five different varieties of knife and a box of bullets by the time she was finished. It was a descent haul hidden away in a discreet black bag.

She hesitated when she stepped back onto the side walk, eyes locking on a lewd shop across the street. Cupid's closet. She'd never been into an establishment such as that but now seemed like a good enough time. Lilith kept her eyes forward as she entered through the double doors, scanning barely for her goal. She wandered to the wall that contained a multitude of BDSM equipment and plucked a pair of handcuffs off the wall.

Albeit shrouded in black fluff, they seemed like they'd do the job. She made hooked a hand around each cuff and pulled a couple times, the chain connecting them rattling in her grasp as she did. She gave an impressed frown before picking up a second pair and making her way to the counter.

"Just these?" The clerk asked with slightly raised eyebrows. "Have an account with us?"

"Nope." She replied, digging in her purse for her credit card. "Visa, please. I don't need a bag."

With that she was on the road back to the hotel, a frown on her lips as she entered. Soothed by the air conditioning and scent of cigarette smoke as she entered. "Lilith," Iris said when she passed the desk, looking nervous as ever. "Mr. March wanted me to ask you to meet him in the bar."