Original subtitles

LIZ: We started with such high hopes.

With all the previous owners being dead,

the hotel was under new management-- ours.

We were determined to remake the Cortez

in our own image.

This would be no mere hotel.

We had ambitions to be a family to the friendless,

a comfort to those in the cold,

a beehive of acceptance.

It was supposed to be the perfect ending.

Oh, hello. Hello.

Welcome to the Cortez.

Please, sign our guest book.

Sure.

May I offer the two of you a glass of champagne?

Ooh. Don't mind if I do.

Ah.

(whispering): I think those are the reviewers

from that Internet site, Trip Adventurers.

They must've heard about our grand reopening.

I know.

Can't you see the ridiculously gracious smile

plastered on my face?

What is that pungent odor?

Sage. To cleanse the spirit.

I'll show you to your room.

(elevator bell dings)

LIZ: To polish the jewel that is the Cortez,

it required not only money-- which we got from liquidating

the Countess's numerous pieces of art--

it was going to take four stars on the Internet.

And so, we were off.

We haven't finished with every floor, but this is one of

our newly refreshed rooms.

Egyptian cotton.

400 thread count.

Minibar?

Mixers are on the house.

If there's anything else you need,

just pick up the phone.

Thank you.

Enjoy your stay.

And you were ready to give it a pass.

Kill me.

(chuckles)

(gasps)

Are you kidding?

That's a Toto Neorest 700H, baby.

The Japanese self-cleaning wonder toilet.

(sighs): Oh.

(laughs)

I have always wanted to try one of these.

SALLY: Doesn't it just make you want to take a dump?

Who the hell are you?

How did you get in here?

(Sally sighs)

I got to say, it's a nice room.

They spent every penny they had to change everything they could.

They took out the mattresses,

especially the ones I split open.

Took out the carpets,

soaked through with so many years

of piss and blood.

They even changed the furniture.

But you know what they couldn't take out?

The pain.

'Cause I'm still here.

All right, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

Now. Hey.

Oh! God!

(gasping)

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Call the police!

Some crazy bitch just killed my partner!

Please... ah!

Oh, my God. Oh!

Oh, God.

Please, you got to help me!

No, no. You have to help me.

I'm new at this murder game,

and, Jesus Christ, is it a thrill.

Ah, crap.

We got another one down at the end of the hallway.

Damn it.

This has got to stop.

He stained the new carpet.

Yeah, we got a serious problem.

The ghosts keep killing the guests,

we're gonna end up with zero stars.

It's time we had a goddamn meeting.

¶ ¶

Hello!

Welcome!

Thank you all for coming. MARCY: Excuse me.

My understanding is that you two are in charge now,

and I'd like to speak to you about changing my room.

LIZ: Sweetheart, you're a ghost.

You can choose whatever room you'd like.

MARCY: Well, yes, but the problem is,

after I pick a room

and then settle in with my erotica novels,

I never know if a guest is going to check in

and disturb me.

I know this is Los Angeles,

but I'm an old-fashioned girl and I like my privacy.

STEPHEN: I dig it when the guests come in.

It's like a free dirty movie.

I'm into that amateur stuff.

(chuckles)

Are you three, like, a thing now?

VENDELA: Ya.

We try dating the lumberjack,

but he's a gay.

IRIS: Okay, everyone, please, listen.

This is important,

and it affects every single one of you.

We would like you to stop killing the guests.

(laughs) (murmuring)

LIZ: It's not all of you,

but we are trying

to build something special here.

A real... destination.

Look, they're gonna get two football teams down in Carson.

That's 20 minutes down the 110.

This place could be filled.

But if it gets out that people are

checking in and disappearing,

then obviously, that's bad for business.

Screw you, Iris.

You're the biggest killer in this room,

you bloodsucker. IRIS: Maybe in the past.

But every drop of blood I drink now is donated.

Any murders that go on in this hotel

are done by your kind.

Excuse me, but...

what do you mean by "our kind"?

SALLY: Can we all just call

a spade a spade and say you're talking about Will and I?

I mean, Woo is

too busy munching on Swedish fish

to bother anyone.

Marcy molests herself

or complains all day.

The lumberjack just mopes.

And that hipster couple just trips around

moaning about for kale.

Will and I are the only ones

who still get off on a little bit of true mischief.

And we're not stopping.

Ending some jerk-off

who wastes the air that he breathes?

That is the real high.

I'm dead, but I've never felt more alive.

Ha.

(slow clapping)

Beautifully said.

And I couldn't agree more.

But I must come down on the side of Cleopatra

and her friend on this issue.

SALLY: Oh, come on!

You telling people to stop killing

is like Colonel Sanders telling us to stop eating chicken.

I'm not familiar with your military friend

and his fondness for poultry,

but my killing days are over.

I thought the Ten Commandment killings

were the beginning of my work,

but it turns out that they are the epilogue.

The torch has been passed, and I feel complete.

But this is a practical decision, not an emotional one.

This is our home.

Frankly, it's the only one we've got.

None of us know what is waiting for us

beyond this place if it no longer stands.

Perhaps, without these walls to protect us, we would all be

forced to move on and face

the judgment of our Maker.

If we can't stay in business, all bets are off.

We'll have to sell.

Or get evicted.

WILL: That's bullshit.

I paid cash for this place.

My lawyers will keep paying the upkeep and the taxes

for as long as they have the funds.

Yeah, well, that's not gonna take very long, cowboy.

Sure, your business was worth a fortune

when you were alive.

But you're such a narcissist

that you never brought anyone else in to design your lines.

And when you disappeared, they had zilch.

Now the whole shithouse has gone up in flames.

Your stock is worth pennies.

That is bullshit!

You're a goddamn liar.

Enough! This is not a democracy!

We are not in the House of Lords!

We are a ship at sea!

And when it comes to you spirits, I am captain!

So listen up, mateys!

There are six criteria

that the U.S. Department of Interior uses to determine

if a place is worthy of being called

an historical landmark.

This hotel fits them all.

The one thing it does not yet possess is time.

Age.

August 23, 2026.

That will make it 100 years that this hotel has stood.

And on that day, it will earn its rightful distinction

as an historical landmark.

They won't be able to tear it down

even if they wanted to.

The killing must stop!

SALLY: Oh, hell no.

Some of us can't go out into the world

to find companionship,

so I'm not gonna stop collecting souls

until I find my soul mate. MARCH: Sally, I don't want

to get rough with you, but you and I both know

there is a way to get you to do as I please.

Or do you not recall the last time you disobeyed me?

(muffled screaming, drill whirring)

So, it's settled, then.

The point of being dead is that there are no rules.

It's the only salvation.

Who gives a shit if they tear this place down

and send us all straight to hell?

It can't be any worse!

(spits)

(knocking on door)

Go away!

Complimentary bottle of champagne

for our VIP long-term residents.

That's you, missy.

Save your breath.

I know what you're up to.

Your Kumbaya intrigues might work with the others;

they're not gonna work with me.

Good.

We can cut the crap.

Jesus, you're one lonely, miserable bitch.

Oh, there she is.

Now get the hell out of my room.

Don't you ever get tired of being so goddamn bitter?

I want to help you, Sally.

This coming from the woman who shoved me out of a window.

Okay.

That's on me.

I'm sorry.

Truly.

But it's no good for either of us to dwell in the past.

Honey, you haven't been the same since John left.

Watch it, Iris.

I can still take an ice pick to your throat, anytime.

You loved him.

The only way you knew how.

He turned his back on you,

after all you'd done for him.

I know how that feels.

You don't know a damn thing about how I feel.

About my pain.

The only thing that takes the edge off

is when I can pull people under with me.

Make them feel one ounce of what I feel.

Then I'm not alone.

But don't you see?

All those people you've been killing, it's...

they're just Band-Aids.

What if I knew of a more permanent fix?

You could have something long-lasting.

A future.

What future?

I'm dead.

You've been living in a 1994 world.

Times have changed.

The Cortez is proud to offer free Wi-Fi now in every room.

Here's your ticket to adventure.

Go on, open it.

What am I supposed to do with this?

We can't change the past,

but you can choose to move forward and live.

So what?

I-I'm gonna be the ghost in the machine?

That's exactly what you're gonna be.

Okay, look.

I loaded it up for you

with Twitter, Instagram,

Facebook. You don't need to be

out in the world to be a part of it.

In the modern age, no one ever has to be alone.

Even for a second.

There's a whole world out there waiting to embrace you, Sally.

Come on, all you have to do is dive in.

(phone vibrates)

¶ ¶

LIZ: Sally took to the interwebs like a fish to water.

It was as if everything she did

shot out a pulse of electricity.

And from all the corners of the globe,

people responded.

(phone vibrates)

In droves, tingling for more.

A rapt audience welcoming her with open arms,

desperate to connect, hanging onto her every word.

Suddenly the girl no one wanted became the belle of the ball.

She could say anything, bare her soul.

Her lone voice weaving into its own cyber subculture.

A safe harbor.

¶ It spits you out when you desire ¶

¶ Conquer it to feel you're higher... ¶

As she basked in sublime adoration,

being numb to the world finally lost its appeal.

¶ ¶

Another?

How long have I been dead?

It's over a year now.

How long does it feel like?

Like I don't exist.

Is that why you've been acting out and killing those people?

I had no idea that my business was dead.

(chuckles)

Oh, it's not dead. It's dying.

Well, what have they done with it?

Factories?

The stores on Rodeo, Fifth Avenue?

Well, they shuttered the couture division.

The perfumes and sunglasses are keeping everything else afloat.

And you do matter in the world, you know.

As long as it lives and your son thrives, you matter.

I'm grateful for what you've done for him.

Thatcher is one of the best schools in the country,

and Ojai is year-round divine.

You should let him come and visit you.

No. No.

This is no place for a young man.

(chuckles)

All of the death here.

I don't want him to be poisoned by it.

Even if it breaks my heart that I can't see him.

May I make a proposition?

You're beautiful, but you're not my type.

(laughs)

The trapped spirits in this place

who aren't in perpetual misery understand that

if you want to feel the magic of cause and effect,

you have to have a purpose.

Your fashion house was iconic.

You're iconic.

My fashion house was headed for disaster

long before I "disappeared."

I haven't had an original thought in a decade.

This is California!

The land of reinvention.

I mean,

look what this place did for me.

Where does everyone even think I am?

Rumors abound.

Rehab, madness, illness.

Each one more scandalous than the last.

Frankly, it's marvelous publicity.

People love a mystery.

Sketch.

Create.

Be part of the world again.

Running a fashion house is more than sketching.

More than any other business, a line needs a face.

(chuckles): Okay.

I was a salesman in another life.

In this one, I'm the mother of style.

Cut me and I bleed Dior.

And you don't have to be dead, you know.

So you decided to hole up in your happy place,

like Howard Hughes without the crazy.

(whispers): We can do this!

LIZ: Stepping into the boardroom atop a pair

of five-inch Guccis, well,

that teaches the authority this business needed.

You have to balance your frame, consider each step,

and lean into your momentum.

You wind up elevated.

Gentlemen, I'm Liz Taylor.

Mr. Drake has sent me here

to lead this company into the future.

Until Mr. Drake has the courtesy

to appear before this board himself...

Mr. Vice-Chairman, I can assure you that Will Drake

has granted me full authority to act on his behalf.

Well,

I don't accept your authority.

MAN: I'm afraid you'll have to.

I've met with Will Drake at the Hotel Cortez,

and it's official.

Ms. Taylor here has total authority

to speak on his behalf.

You're fired.

(chuckles)

Now, gentlemen, I know something about rebirth.

Listen and learn.

WILL: No! I can't do this!

There's inspiration all around us.

All you got to do is look.

LIZ: I left Will alone to work his sorcery,

and he left me to mine.

¶ Nights in white satin... ¶

We cast his absence as mystery.

He gave very little of himself to the public,

and demand steadily rose.

His presentations were exclusive and exotic.

Very few invitations, very unusual models.

All cameras and phones were banned,

which only made word of mouth stronger,

interest more intense.

Art deco once again became all the rage.

¶ Beauty I'd always missed ¶

¶ With these eyes before ¶

¶ Just what the truth is... ¶

(applause)

I should've been jubilant in our success.

But instead, I felt lost.

¶ 'Cause I love you ¶

(chuckles) ¶ Yes, I love you... ¶

It was a night like this when I first saw Tristan.

Just promise me you'll keep an open mind.

Please, remember to whom you speak.

Now, what are we doing here?

I know how much you miss Tristan.

And wherever he is, I don't know

why we haven't seen hide nor hair of him.

And if anybody can reach him,

this woman can.

Iris...

did you get me a psychic?

(door opens)

LIZ: Oh.

(door closes)

Billie Dean Howard, this is Liz.

Liz, it is so good to meet you.

(chuckles) I've seen you on the side of a bus.

(chuckles)

Billie Dean has her own show on Lifetime.

She helps the bereaved communicate with

their dearly departed loved ones.

I'm impressed.

I'll be honest.

Your establishment is fairly notorious

among the paranormal communities being a bit of a hot spot.

(chuckles)

I was thinking I might want

to do an episode of my show here.

(chuckles) But today,

I am here for you.

Hmm.

Hmm, so many voices.

It's a very noisy hotel.

(faint, echoing chatter)

Oh, I feel something.

A very masculine energy.

Restless.

He's here.

Spirit,

we seek you with loving hearts and open minds.

Lift the veil that separates our world from yours.

Speak to us.

Tristan.

Hello.

(gasps)

Tristan, I'm here with Liz.

She misses you very much.

Is there any message you have for her?

What?

What does he say?

He says...

"No."

What do you mean, "No"?

What-what no?

He doesn't want to talk.

What do you mean? He's talking to you.

He doesn't want to talk

to me.

He's been here all along.

And he's choosing not to talk to me... (sniffles)

'cause he blames me.

I'm the cause of his death.

My love for him killed him.

Love doesn't kill.

I've been around a lot longer, and let me tell you something.

Believe me, love kills a lot more than hate.

Thank you for coming anyway.

Be strong.

I know you know how.

(whispers): Yep.

No. This isn't right.

No, wait. (sighs)

Maybe it wasn't Tristan you were talking to.

He remembers the pancakes.

You made them for him every Saturday

and let him watch cartoons all morning.

Who's Donovan?

What?

Donovan isn't here.

No, no, no.

Donovan is someplace else.

Someplace very beautiful.

He says it smells like pancakes.

Your pancakes.

He says it's always Saturday morning where he is.

He says...

"I love you, Mom."

LIZ: Even in my grief, I was happy for my friend.

As for me, I felt any chance at love was over.

But life can surprise you.

Especially new life.

(screaming)

And love?

Well, that can take many forms.

After I made peace with my son Douglas,

I never really expected to see him again.

So I was delighted when he brought Janice to meet me.

Janice was the daughter I always wanted.

And I was the mother-in-law she'd always hoped for.

(baby crying)

In Isabelle's face, I saw the future.

She was being born into a world just a little more accepting

than the one I had been born into.

And maybe, just maybe,

I had a little something to do with that.

A little kindness, acceptance.

That transformed me in ways nothing else ever could.

I never thought life could be this good.

Or that it might end.

Well, shit!

Are you sure?

I'm sure.

Well...

the doctor is sure.

And there ain't nothing they can do about it?

It's... past the point of treatment.

Which is probably for the best.

'Cause...

I would hate to lose my hair.

Baby girl,

there just might be something that I can do for you.

(scoffs) Huh?

What, turn me?

Hell, I don't even like my steak bloody.

But that's never been an option for me.

You know that.

And at this point in my life,

I can't imagine killing in order to live.

So have you told your kids yet?

With any luck, I won't need to.

They can just keep visiting me here.

(camera clicking)

(chuckles)

(chuckles)

I'm gonna cut to the chase.

I am the first woman in the world to have prostate cancer.

Uh, the doctor told me it's spread to the spine

and there's nothing to do.

We'll spend whatever we have to.

One call and I can get you to the best doctor in the world.

Oh, it's too late.

And I don't want to spend

my last days wasting away in a hospital

with a catheter up my dick and poison in my body,

so...

But who will take care of us?

You can't leave us alone. I won't.

That's why I called you all here today.

Now, I have provided you with various weapons.

Take two. They're small. (chuckles)

Uh...

hack me.

Strangle me.

Bludgeon me.

Surprise me.

MS. EVERS: I think I can speak for everyone here when I say

that we've all grown rather fond of you.

We can't possibly murder you.

SALLY: It's not murder.

She wants to be reborn.

("The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" by Marianne Faithfull playing)

You're my family.

I want to be with you forever.

¶ The morning sun ¶

¶ Touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan ¶

¶ In a white suburban bedroom ¶

¶ In a white suburban town ¶

¶ And she lay there neath the covers ¶

¶ Dreaming of a thousand lovers ¶

¶ Till the world turned to orange ¶

¶ And the room went spinning round ¶

¶ At the age of 37 ¶

¶ She realized she'd never ride ¶

¶ Through Paris in a sports car ¶

(door whooshes open)

¶ With the warm wind in her hair ¶

¶ So she let the phone keep ringing... ¶

LIZ: It was the first time I'd seen her since she died.

Only in that moment did I realize

just how much I'd missed her.

How did you know to come?

You were always my fondest creation.

¶ He's off to work ¶

¶ And the kids are off to school ¶

¶ And there were oh so many ways... ¶

I wanted to be here to help you transition.

¶ For her to spend her day ¶

¶ She could clean the house for hours ¶

¶ Or rearrange the flowers ¶

¶ Or run naked through the shady street... ¶

One last time.

(exhales)

¶ At the age of 37 ¶

¶ She realized she'd never ride ¶

¶ Through Paris ¶

¶ In a sports car... ¶

¶ ¶

TRISTAN: Those things'll kill you.

I don't understand.

You wouldn't talk to me.

I thought you hated me.

I love you.

And, darlin',

you had more living to do.

I couldn't get in the way of that.

(laughs)

Oh, baby...

you are to die for.

May I help you? I have a reservation.

Room 44.

The Woo room.

That's where Billie Dean says he died.

Oh, that room is booked.

Booked by me, three weeks ago.

Under Rhodes, Ashley.

My Amex app says the charge has cleared.

You have my money. I want my room.

Fine.

It's all my fault.

I thought that Billie'd be free advertising.

You know, people love a good ghost story.

Well, you were right about that.

Yeah, but this is getting way out of hand.

She's had three prime-time specials.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Wait, he's trying to tell me something.

Mr. Woo doesn't pay for what?

IRIS: I mean, don't get me wrong.

I don't mind having this place alive with guests.

It's just those freaks and weirdos

who want to be plowed by a ghost.

The people Billie attracts, they're just...

It's bad for our brand.

Why don't we just shut the place down?

Will Drake doesn't need the money anymore.

'Cause this place needs life.

It's a hotel, not a cemetery.

The living give the spirits trapped in this place

a connection to the outside world.

IRIS: John.

I was wondering when you were gonna arrive.

We've missed you.

It's good to be back. And you're right.

I don't like her coming around.

Pestering, asking questions.

She still trying to contact me?

Every year on this date.

John Lowe.

The Ten Commandments Killer.

Show yourself and bear witness to your crimes.

Shit.

Call her.

Check her into my room.

But get her here quickly.

It's only three hours until sundown.

We are standing in room 64 of the Hotel Cortez,

where the notorious Ten Commandments Killer lived

when he terrorized Los Angeles many years ago.

John Lowe may be the most evil and dangerous spirit

with whom I have ever attempted to make contact.

I will need all of my skills and powers of concentration

to achieve this unprecedented interview.

(sighs softly)

(static hums softly)

You wanted to talk?

I want you to talk.

My name is Billie Dean Howard.

All we know about John Lowe is what the police have said.

I'm giving you a chance now to set the record straight.

(chuckles softly)

(mouthing)

What do you want to know?

Why don't we start with your family.

Did they know

you were a serial killer?

What'd you get Holden for dinner? It's dog again.

JOHN: They came to understand

that I was cleaning up the world,

in my own way. ALEX: Goddamn it, John.

We talked about this; I was not gonna target people

who do not deserve to die.

Now, once you went on the lam,

your wife and two children were never seen again.

ALEX: Come on.

Where are you going? He's hungry.

I know how to walk into a hospital

and not get noticed.

Did you kill them?

I will admit, I failed them.

Daddy?

There's only one thing left to do.

Turn myself in?

We have to go home.

JOHN: Scarlett was right.

The Cortez was home.

We'd all been reborn there, in one form or another.

Well, except for her.

There was a still a chance for our daughter

to grow up somewhere else,

to have some shot at a normal life.

But it needed to be away from us.

Liz knew just the place.

The Thatcher School would be host

to more than one young refugee from the Hotel Cortez.

BILLIE: So you sent your daughter away,

but lived with your son and wife in the Cortez,

back in L.A., where you were still being hunted.

It's hard to provide for your family when you're on the run.

There were more opportunities in Los Angeles.

(grunts)

¶ ¶

(tires screeching, sirens wailing)

OFFICER: Stop! John Lowe, you're under arrest!

I have to make it back to the hotel.

(gunfire)

(wheezing)

Let me...

I want to die inside.

I'm sensing something about your wife and son.

I can hear the undercurrents from the spirits,

but they are too afraid to speak clearly.

Why is that?

I don't want to talk about my family.

Well, if you don't want to talk about your family,

then give me something else.

What is the significance of October 30?

Why is it the only day I feel your presence here?

Well, it's Devil's Night.

And if you leave your camera crew behind,

that I can show you.

¶ ¶

BILLIE: The walls. They're screaming.

I was in a house once just west of here.

And I could hear the spirits in the walls like termites...

or bats in the attic.

But it was nothing like this.

This is like being in a rock concert of the dead.

Well, come on.

Let me introduce you to some rock stars of the dead.

(jazz music playing)

Oh, Jeffrey, you and your damn straws.

Come on. Put your drink down and come and dance with me.

I don't dance.

Look at me.

Neither do I. (laughs)

John! Oh!

Jeffrey, look who's here.

John is here.

He's the greatest of them all.

Are you blushing?

I told you, if you like a guy, you have to talk to him.

You think any of those young men

would have come over to work at my house if I didn't have

the guts to approach them in the world?

(scoffs)

Well, those guys in Milwaukee must have been pretty desperate

to go home with Jeffrey.

The guy can't get two words out without going flush.

(laughs)

Oh, my God.

You're John Wayne Gacy.

And that's Jeffrey Dahmer.

Are you frightened?

Oh, no.

No, I just surround myself with the white light of spirit and...

to keep myself protected.

Sure thing, sweetheart.

Yeah! Let's get this party started!

I need a beer. I'll drink whatever's cold.

Jesus H. Christ on a horse, what the hell is this shit music?

Aileen Wuornos. (record scratches)

("Fade Into You" by Mazzy Star playing)

Richard Ramirez.

I'm married, but we live apart.

And that's the Zodiac.

I'll get you a drink.

¶ I want to hold the hand inside you... ¶

Uh, hey.

I'm Aileen.

¶ I want to take a breath... ¶

You have the prettiest hair.

Man, what I wouldn't do for a head of hair like that.

It's like... it's like Farrah Fawcett.

Reminds me of my-my ex-girlfriend.

(laughs) Oh, I feel ill.

All these dark spirits.

It's... (chuckles) it's a little overwhelming.

Just drink that. It'll relax you.

MARCH: Absinthe!

Our customary libation.

James Patrick March.

Oh.

Oh, I feel the violence in you.

So many spirits who you snuffed out.

I can see all the moments when they crossed over.

Tell me,

what is that like?

Is it a moving picture, like so many cells on a film reel?

Or more like a kaleidoscope of human suffering?

It's not a picture.

It's a feeling.

Like a mist on your face on a cold morning.

You can't see it in the air, but you can feel...

the wetness.

Yeah. I can feel the wetness

with you so close to me right now, Johnny boy.

(both laughing)

I got a seat right next to me.

(panting)

(chuckles)

(laughs)

So this is Devil's Night.

My Murderers' Row!

How odd it must be to see all of us then

in what appears to be the flesh.

Flesh enough to eat,

drink,

feel our grip on your arm,

our breath on your skin.

(shouts) No!

(laughter)

How's that white light holding up, Billie Dean?

BILLIE: I don't want to be here anymore.

When does the party favor arrive?

MARCH: John's taken care of that.

Grab your weapons,

ladies and gents.

No.

(chuckles)

No. (screams)

Can't throw a killer party without a little killing, right?

(panting)

JOHN: Don't worry, Billie.

I think you're gonna like living here.

Here's the deal.

No more specials or interviews

or books or tweets or casual conversations

at cocktail parties with Shirley MacLaine

about this hotel.

This place is dead to you.

We will become a myth,

which is what we should've been left to do anyway.

What if I don't?

AILEEN: One sure-as-shit thing I can tell you

about being murdered: it hurts.

And we like to make it last...

(drill whirs)

None of you can leave the hotel, so...

you can't hold me to my word, huh?

RAMONA: But I can.

BILLIE: What the hell are you?

You're not dead.

I'm a creature

who kills to live

and who drinks a body's worth of blood a day

and doesn't think twice about

who I'm sucking it from.

So, if you even let out a whisper of a word

that sounds like "Cortez,"

I'll find you and drain every drop of life

from your skinny ass.

RAMIREZ: I can't be the only one here

hoping you say no.

(drill whirs, laughter) No!

No! No!

¶ ¶

Did you take care of what you had to take care of?

Yeah.

Look at you, Scarlett.

Where'd my little girl go?

You're just saying that 'cause

I'm the only member of the family that ages.

(chuckles)

Thanks for coming.

Tonight means a lot to me.

For us

all to be together.

Even just for a few hours.

Of course, Dad.

Means a lot to me, too.

Go on.

Get into bed with them.

Not you?

I'm getting a little big

for the family bed.

I'll take the chair.

I'm afraid to fall asleep.

As soon as I close my eyes,

it'll all be gone for another year.

It's okay, Daddy.

Rest.

¶ ¶

(static crackles)

(jazz music playing)

¶ ¶

What brings you to the Cortez?

Tomorrow's Halloween.

This place is supposed to be haunted, right?

I'm meeting some friends here.

No, you're not.

I'm not?

No.

You have a jawline for days.