Slawter

  Dinner with Dervish, Juni, and some others, in the ginormous catering tent at the heart of Slawter. Everybody talking at once, a nice buzz in the air. A mime artist signals to me that he’d like the salt and pepper. His name is Chai and he’s a bit of a nutcase. He never speaks, although he’s not mute. Apparently he’s perfectly chatty when he’s not working. But throughout the duration of a shoot, he keeps his lips sealed. It doesn’t matter that he has a tiny part in the movie, and will only be filming for a few days. Chai considers himself a method actor.

  “How are you two managing?” Juni asks Bill-E and me. “Enjoying yourselves?”

  “Totally!” Bill-E gushes. “It’s great. Incredibly invigorating and inspiring. I think I’ve found my calling in life.”

  “Not getting into any trouble, are you?” Dervish grunts.

  “As if!” Bill-E smirks.

  “I was discussing your situation with Dervish earlier,” Juni says hesitantly.

  Uh-oh! It’s never good when an adult says something like that.

  “I’m worried that you’ll fall behind in your schoolwork,” Juni goes on. “Things have been a rush lately — Dervish accepting our offer, bringing you two with him, a crazy first week of shooting. Tutoring arrangements have been made for the other children, but we overlooked you and Bill-E. I think it would be a mistake to let things continue as they are, and Dervish agrees, so...”

  “No!” Bill-E cries dramatically. “You’re going to stick us in a class? Say it ain’t so, Derv!”

  “It’s so,” Dervish laughs. “Juni’s right. We’re going to be here three months, maybe longer. If you go that length of time without classes, it’ll mean repeating a year when we get back to Carcery Vale.”

  “You won’t have to do full days,” Juni promises. “We keep classes flexible, to fit in around shooting, so it’ll be a few hours here, a few hours there, just keeping you in line with what your friends are doing back home. That doesn’t sound so awful, does it?”

  “Too bad if it does,” Dervish interjects before we can reply, “because you don’t have a choice.”

  “Slave driver,” Bill-E mutters, but he’s only pretending to be grumpy. We both knew this was coming. The freedom couldn’t last forever.

  Juni and Dervish start talking to each other again. Juni’s been with my uncle most times that I’ve seen him recently, which is strange, since they can’t have a lot of business together. Dervish is part of the inner technical circle, whereas Juni’s job revolves around the children. There must be another reason why he’s sticking to her like superglue, and I think I know what it is — good old-fashioned physical attraction!

  It seems incredible. If someone asked me a week ago, I’d have laughed and said the bald old grouch didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. But something’s stirring in the hidden depths of Dervish Grady. There’s a gleam in his smile that was never there before. He’s switched to a pungent new aftershave. His clothes are freshly ironed. He’s even started combing the wisps of hair dotted around the sides of his head into place. There’s no doubt about it — he’s trying to impress the cute albino!

  Juni knows that Bill-E and I are friends with Emmet, so she places us in his class. All of the other students are actors. There’s the Kane twins, Kuk and Kik, a boy and girl, small and slender, very alike in looks. They don’t speak much to anyone, going off by themselves whenever there’s a free period. They have big roles in the film, as eerie psychic twins.

  Salit Smit is the main child star of Slawter. He’s a bit older than the rest of us. A nice guy but not the brightest spark. He just smiles and nods a lot in class, not bothering to apply himself, convinced he’s going to be the biggest movie draw since Tom Cruise.

  I absolutely despise the other three. A clique of snobs, presided over by the dreadful Bo Kooniart, a girl who was born solely to annoy. She’s been in a few commercials and thinks she’s God’s gift. Always dresses stylishly, like a model. Sucks up to Davida and anyone else with power and influence. Ignores the rest of us, treating us like simpletons or servants.

  Her brother, Abe, is almost as bad. A scrawny, miserable excuse for a child. He’s not an actor, but his father — the loud, obnoxious Tump Kooniart, a movie agent — insisted he be cast if they wanted to hire Bo. From the rumors, Davida resisted, but finally caved in and gave him a small part as a kid who raises the alarm when the demons are about to break through en masse. I don’t think Davida gives way too often, so Tump must be good at his job. Which is just as well, because from what I’ve seen of Bo and Abe, they’re awful at theirs!

  The third mini-tyrant is Vanalee Metcalf. Her parents are multimillionaires. Too busy to waste time with their daughter on-set, so she came equipped with her own bodyguard-cum-servant, who glares at anyone who doesn’t grovel at her feet.

  Bo, Abe, and Vanalee took one look at Bill-E and me when we were introduced to them this morning, smirked at each other in a snide, superior way, and turned their noses up to let us know we weren’t worthy of direct notice.

  Our tutor is a sweet but nervous woman named Supatra Jaun. I can tell within ten minutes that she can’t handle Bo and her posse. She lets them talk to each other while she’s teaching and doesn’t ever try to assert her authority. Sometimes she’ll murmur, “Now, now, Bo, please pay attention,” but without any real hope that the blond, ponytailed, stick-thin brat will obey.

  Miss Jaun seems genuinely pleased that Bill-E and I have been added to her class, probably because we’re polite and show some interest. She talks to us warmly, finds out what we’ve been studying, takes a few notes, and promises to bring us up to scratch in next to no time.

  “I bet those dirtbags know a lot about scratching,” Bo sniffs.

  “Meaning?” I growl at her.

  “Lice, you moron!” she screeches, and Abe and Vanalee burst out laughing.

  “We’ve found our nemesis,” Bill-E mutters in my ear, pegging it dead-on. “Hate her, Grubbs. Hate her good and proper.”

  “Does her character die in the script?” I ask Emmet.

  “No,” he says. “She ends up saving the town, along with Salit.”

  “A pity,” I sigh.

  “But she does fall into a pit full of demon manure at one stage,” Emmet says, and my day lights right up.

  Our first session lasts two hours, a mix of history, biology, and math. Miss Jaun seems to be confident in all subjects — a smart cookie. Then an assistant director pops in and says they need Bo and Salit. Miss Jaun checks her watch, says we might as well all take a break, and asks those of us not involved in filming to return in an hour. It’s certainly a lot more laid-back than our school in Carcery Vale.

  Emmet wants to practice his lines on Bill-E and me again, but we don’t have the patience, so we leave him with his mom in his trailer. We grab sandwiches from one of the many mobile cafeterias, then go see if anything exciting is happening. There’s not much to keep us amused today. Davida and her crew are setting up a tracking shot on a street, trying to get lots of actors in place and working in sync with each other. Fairly boring to watch. A lot of filming is.

  “I still can’t believe we’re here,” Bill-E says as we wander around. “Maybe this will become Dervish’s full-time job and we’ll travel around the world on film shoots with him.”

  “I doubt it,” I laugh. “Your gran and grandad wouldn’t allow it. I’m surprised they agreed to let Dervish have you for this long. Did he work some magic spells on them?”

  “Nope,” Bill-E says. “They were happy to let me come. Gran loves movies, especially old flicks starring the likes of David Niven and Ingrid Bergman. She thought this was a great opportunity for me. I think she’s hoping I’ll fall in love with a beautiful blind cellist or some such nonsense. She believes that a lot of those old films were based on true stories, that the world’s really like that.”

  “Mind you, a girl would have to be blind to fall in love with you,” I comment. “Otherwise they could never return your love, could they?”
br />   “Your face,” Bill-E snorts. “My flabby nether regions. Spot the similarity?”

  I get Bill-E in a headlock and rub my knuckles into his skull, but it’s all in fun. He has no idea of the real reason why he’s here. He thinks Dervish is his father, that he didn’t want to spend a few months parted from his darling son. He doesn’t know about Dervish wanting to make sure Davida doesn’t raise hell, or about Prae Athim’s interest in experimenting on him.

  “I can’t wait to see the demon tomorrow — or it might even be tonight,” Bill-E enthuses once I’ve released him. “Emmet says it depends on how shooting goes today. If they finish that shot on the street in time, they’ll do his scene later. It’ll be coolio!”

  “Hmmm,” I say neutrally.

  “What are you moaning about, Goliath?” Bill-E frowns. Then, studying me carefully, his expression clears. “Oh. I’d forgotten. Your parents and sister . . .” He trails off into silence. Although Bill-E doesn’t know about his lycanthropic genes, or the battle Dervish and I fought with Lord Loss, he knows that demons killed my family.

  “Are you going to be OK with all this?” Bill-E asks awkwardly. Sympathy isn’t something that he does well.

  “Sure,” I grunt.

  “Really?” he presses. “Because they can’t keep us here. I know Dervish signed those contracts saying we’d stay until the end, but we didn’t. If you want to leave, there’s nothing they’ll be able to do about it. I’ve watched a lot of courtroom movies. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “No,” I smile. “I’ll be OK. I mean, we’re talking movie demons here — rubber, wire, and paint. How scary can they be?”

  Emmet’s nervous all afternoon, practicing his lines even in class. Davida popped in to see him during lunch and told him they’d definitely be shooting his death scene tonight. The way he’s behaving — pale, shivering, mumbling to himself — I think it might take quite a few attempts to get it right!

  Near the end of class, Emmet’s summoned to the makeup trailer. He won’t be required on-set for a few hours yet, but they want to run some tests. It’s going to be a gory scene — Davida wants blood spurting every which way — so they need to make sure everything’s set up smoothly before they stick him in front of the cameras.

  Salit and Bo return as Emmet’s leaving. “I can’t believe they’re letting you go through with this farce,” Bo says, blocking the doorway. “You’ll choke, Eijit. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. So why don’t you just —”

  “Leave him alone!” Bill-E shouts. “Meddling cow!”

  “Now, Billy-E, that’s not —” Miss Jaun begins.

  “Shut up, pipsqueak!” Bo defends herself, spitting venom at Bill-E. “If I want advice from a fat geek with a lazy eye, I’ll let you know. Otherwise...”

  I stand up, flexing my muscles, stretching aggressively. “You’re going to apologize,” I tell Bo flatly.

  “Says who?” she retorts, but I’ve unnerved her. It’s not often that I threaten anyone, but when I do, I can make quite an impression.

  I step out from behind my desk and crack my knuckles, staring at Bo levelly. “Now,” I say firmly.

  Bo glares at me, then sneers and says mockingly, “I’m so sorry, Billy one-eye. I won’t point the truth out to you again.” Her gaze flicks back at Emmet. “But you’re still going to mess up. Let me know when you do. It’s not too late for Abe to step in and do the job properly.”

  “Ignore her,” Bill-E says, his left eyelid fluttering furiously. “You’ll be great. Davida wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe you could do it.”

  “Thanks,” Emmet says hollowly, then pushes past Bo, visibly upset. Bo smirks and takes her seat.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Miss Jaun says disapprovingly.

  Bo looks up at our teacher as though just noticing she’s there. “Excuse me?”

  “You shouldn’t —” Miss Jaun begins.

  “What was that?” Bo asks loudly, cutting Miss Jaun off. She tilts her head and pushes her lower lip out with her tongue, daring Miss Jaun to challenge her. For a moment it looks as though she will, and I ready myself to cheer the timid teacher on. But then her shoulders sag and she looks away.

  “Let’s get on with our lessons,” she says meekly. “I’ll finish up with the others, then take you and Salit for a couple of hours. Now, where were we...?”

  “Someone should give it to her good,” Bill-E storms when class has finished. “Bo freakin’ Kooniart! Davida should put that little monster over her knee and spank her till her hand turns blue!”

  “I agree,” I say grimly, “but it’s not going to happen. She’s a star. She can get away with crap like that. To be honest, I thought they’d all be like her. I’m surprised how normal most of the others are.”

  “Too bad the demons aren’t real,” Bill-E grumbles. “We could feed Bo to them, and her horrible little brother. Vanalee too.”

  “It would certainly make life easier,” I agree. “But they’re not real. There’s nothing we can do except ignore her. Come on.” I slap his back. “Let’s go see what Emmet looks like in his makeup.”

  Emmet’s covered in fake blood. He’s spitting it out and wiping it from his eyes. “The bag exploded early,” he moans. “You squeezed too hard,” a props person says, sliding a hand up inside Emmet’s sweater, removing an empty plastic bag which had been filled with the red, sticky liquid. “You have to be more gentle. Don’t worry — you’ll get the hang of it soon.”

  Emmet goes off to be cleaned, before trying on a fresh costume and having his makeup applied again. Rather him than me. Sometimes an actor can spend most of the day sitting in a chair, having makeup dabbed on, cleaned off, dabbed on, cleaned off, dabbed...

  Bill-E and I go for a swim, then head for dinner. We spot Dervish dining with Davida and Juni, but they’re talking shop, so we don’t disturb them. After that we check on Emmet again. This time he’s managed not to burst the bag of blood and is ready to face the cameras.

  “She’s been trying to unsettle me all week,” he says about Bo. “She thinks Abe should have had this part. Her dad does too. He told my mom I was an amateur and shouldn’t be here.”

  “Charming!” Bill-E huffs.

  “Mom hit the roof,” Emmet chuckles. “Told Tump Kooniart what she thought of him and to keep out of our way for the rest of the shoot. She complained to Davida, but he’s an agent for several of the actors, so there’s not much Davida can do. In an argument, if it’s us or him, she has to take his side. I could be replaced easily, but if Tump walked off and told his gang to follow...”

  “Never mind,” Bill-E says encouragingly. “There’s nothing they can do about it now. This is your scene. Go out there, strut your funky stuff, and leave Tump Kooniart and his brats to stew.”

  Emmet laughs, then asks if he can run through his lines with us. This time we let him, and say nothing as he makes his customary mistake and grinds to a miserable halt. Then, before he can practice again, his call comes and we have to leave.

  Showtime!

  This is the first big action shot of the movie, so a large crowd of curious bystanders has gathered. Thanks to modern technology, scenes with monsters aren’t normally interesting to watch being filmed. More often than not, actors will play out their part against a blue screen background. The monster effects are added later, using computers.

  But Davida wants the demons to look as lifelike as possible, for the action to play realistically. That means taking a less flashy approach than in her other movies, keeping it gritty and believable, using almost no computer effects.

  Bill-E and I find a good place to watch, next to Dervish and Juni. The scene’s being filmed on one of the smaller, darker alleys of Slawter. There’s a manhole on the left side of the street, from which the cover has been removed. The demon will spring out of the manhole, grab Emmet, and drag him underground.

  “This is going to be fun,” Dervish says warmly. “Hardly anyone here has seen the demon costume.
I think people will be really scared.”

  “Nonsense,” Bill-E says. “How can you be scared of a guy in a monster suit?”

  “Trust me,” Dervish grins. “This doesn’t look like a guy in a suit. There are engines and wires within the costume, so it can pull expressions, ooze slime like you wouldn’t believe, even . . .” He lowers his voice. “It smells.”

  “Come again?” Bill-E blinks.

  “Emmet doesn’t know this, so don’t say anything, but Davida wants to wring as much genuine terror out of him as she can. So she created a demon-type stench, to throw him off-guard. She has a few other tricks up her sleeve too. I feel sorry for the kid — he doesn’t know what’s going to hit him!”

  “I don’t think that’s fair,” I mutter. “He’s nervous enough as it is.”

  “Don’t worry,” Juni smiles. “We talked it over with his mother. She gave us the all-clear. He’ll enjoy the joke when he recovers. It will make the scene more believable, which will make his acting seem all the more professional. That will stand him in good stead when he’s looking for his next big role.”

  I’m a bit worried about Emmet, despite Juni’s reassurances. I’d hate if he got so freaked out that he couldn’t finish filming the scene and had to hand the part over to Abe. I can see the moody Master Kooniart standing across from us, with Bo and their fat, leering father, Tump. I wonder if the stench idea was theirs to begin with.

  I’d like to warn Emmet, but Davida is talking with him and Salit, explaining the dynamics of the scene. This is where Salit finds Emmet eating their headmaster, and realizes he’s working for a demon. Emmet starts to give a long speech about how the demons are going to take over the town, and why he’s working for them. In the middle of it, his demonic ally pops out of the manhole and makes off with him.

  “It’s important you don’t look like you know what’s going to happen,” Davida tells Emmet. “As far as you know, this demon is your best buddy and Salit’s the one in trouble. You’ll hear some rumblings, feel a few tremors. Ignore them and concentrate on your lines.”

  “About that,” Emmet cuts in. “I’ve been having a few problems.”

  “Oh?” Davida smiles and waits for him to continue.

  “It’s the line, ‘At least not much worse than a guy who gives in to temptation and steals a candy bar.’ I know the line, but I keep coming out with ‘badder’ instead of ‘worse.’ If it happens, can we do it again right away? I’ll try to get it right, but I might...”

  Davida holds up a hand. “Emmet, as far as I’m concerned, there’s not one line in the script that isn’t open to negotiation. I should have made that clear earlier. It’s your voice I want to hear, not mine. If ‘badder’ is what comes naturally to you, then ‘badder’ it is.”

  “I can change the line?” Emmet gapes.

  “Absolutely.”

  A big smile works its way across Emmet’s face. Across from us, Abe and the other Kooniarts are glowering. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but they can see the fear fade from Emmet. They’ve lost their chance to bump Abe up the pecking order. I want to thumb my nose at them and stick out my tongue. But that would be childish, so I settle for