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In six weeks’ time, I’d studied them. I’d memorized their habits, expressions, mannerisms, and even inter-group dynamics. I’d paid more attention to my staff and family members too. In that time, I’d managed to surmise that Jennie somehow knew of Virginia’s spell book. She’d grown up only miles away from that damn thrift shop. Still, there was no real way she could connect it to Virginia that I knew of. I had to figure out how before I brought it to my love and had to listen to her prattle on about how I was wrong. Later, I’d go to Jennie and Don’s room to do some investigating. With no clear winner and still no muse due to Ruby’s forfeit, I wasn’t sure we’d even need to kill anyone. Like my Virginia, she’d killed herself. A death was a death, regardless of how. And I’d quickly learned that this particular group had no real interest in the technical process of it all. They were here for a shortcut and the keys to my house.
It was Jennie I most wondered about. After Virginia demanded I make her shave her head just because she found her a threat, she hadn’t flinched. She was either a real-life psychopath or just that strong. Like the way she’d chewed on her rabbit without so much as a sob, the girl hadn’t flinched as Ant swept her long, black locks off the floor. She was hiding something. And the inventory of her scars only told me she’d been a cutter and had somehow been burnt in a fire. Again, just like with my Virginia. I needed to know more.
It was surreal to me how fast the workshop had gone by. After Ruby went missing, things became chaos. When Brian discovered Claire’s missing bullet, everyone decided Claire had killed her. For weeks, the group had demanded to know where Ruby’s body was. Instead of learning about tense hopping and character arcs, they’d merely turned on one another over and over. Ant had broken his wrist stopping Don from killing Claire with Brian’s mallard. Brian had tried to hack into the security system to no avail and even contacted a woman I was sure was one of many mistresses. He’d even used a name not his own and, when questioned, seemed adamant about it. Writers were strange but predictable in their own ways. Jennie, however, had stayed focused – taking notes and scribbling away in her notebook. She was the oddest of all.
I needed to think of the positives. No, things had not gone as planned. But all was not lost. Brian had managed to bring the mansion up to par; preferring to upgrade our technology than hand copy the encyclopedia, then dictionary looking for alternatives to the word ‘dude.’ And by week four, after Alice had gone, I’d even asked Ant to stop with the Tide pods. Yeah, the guy was a dick, but any man who wanted to go by Blaze really didn’t need to be fucked with. He’d signed the disclaimer and wasn’t named Don. Don was the only I was aware of who’d turn on his word. He hadn’t had a shot of winning from the moment I hung up with his publisher anyway. I believe in exclusivity and honoring such things. The hell I was dying a pub wrecker.
Claire would be a fun Murder Maker. I could see her inviting a harem to the mansion and making every one of them refer to her only as Honey. Like Alice before, she could juggle men willing to wait on her. While Jennie would probably make the better writer long term and be at least more serious about my work, I couldn’t fully trust her. That spell book and Virginia had haunted me too long. The bane of my existence and what had caused Virginia to drown herself and maybe even set fire to her family, I refused to carry on that part of my legacy.
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