Hollow #2 - Chapter 58 (Patreon)

Chapter 58 - Apati Planning 

Apati Bathhouse

Danae – Matchmaker 

Cleaning up blood and entrails was much harder than expected.

Normally, I left behind a wake of corpses.  Yet I rarely needed to clean them up.  Time usually took care of that problem.  Or monsters.  Or other people.

But blood stains were tenacious.  They got everywhere and soaked into everything.  And even the strange soap I found in the baths didn’t get it out easily.  The instructions said it required something called “elbow grease” – which I did not have.  And if you waited too long, the blood dried and the little pieces of brain and muscle hardened.  Honestly, it became a nightmare.  Too much even for Horus’ “weapon.”  Not that he was much help anyway.

He couldn’t be apart from My Lady for long, he said.

Or she’d get suspicious, he said.

So, I would have to guard his secrets myself, he said.

Kill off the book obsessed savran hunting her alone, he said.

Which is why I had spent most of the day following the two of them around and cleaning up a long, bloody trail of bodies.  Luckily, I’d had the foresight to borrow a bucket and mop in addition to the soap.  I was initially concerned someone might ask why I was hauling along cleaning supplies.  Except no one asked.  They all seemed focused on Horus and Eris and those two idiots only had eyes for each other.  Almost like I was invisible.

Which made sense.  Most people don’t see death coming.

After the baths, our first stop was a tour of the canning factory.

Not that I got to admire the process or sample the tasty looking silverfin.  No, no I spent the whole time crushing the many, many savran assassins targeting My Lady with my shields.  The blood spray hidden by the thick steam inside the factory, the vapor making is easy to hide those brutal murders from prying eyes.  Plus, the mist stopped the blood and remains from drying and someone even had the foresight to install large drains in the floor.  So, all I had to do was use my shields to shove the crimson slop toward those big holes and then give the equipment a quick pass with a long-handled brush I found lying around.

The next stop on our itinerary was a tour of the blood grove.

Which was fantastic.  But not for the reason you might think.

While I’d borrowed cleaning supplies from the baths, I’d forgotten about my own clothing.  Also, my fur.  Seriously, I was covered in blood, little bits and pieces of former assassin stuck to me.  For a moment, I was even worried that the others might notice – might start asking questions.  Except, the blood grove lived up to its name.  A writhing, shallow, blood-drenched nightmare lake.  One we were forced to walk through.

They all assumed I’d just fallen in.  Then they gave us special clothes to help ward off the blood.  “Waders,” they called them.  A material sprayed with a thin film of poo-crete mixed with a fine mash of bamboo.  Any blood that touched the clothes was immediately absorbed.  Frankly, it was brilliant.  Extraordinary really.

Plus, the grove made the corpse disposal easy.  No one noticed when I added a few more bodies to the hundreds of mangled and pulped demon monkey remains bobbing beneath those grotesque hell trees.  Some of the savran assassins were even hiding in the water, which made my work even easier.  When someone asked why I was pounding the ground with my shields, I explained I was just helping.

To, uh, grind up the fertilizer – like our tour guide had explained.

So, by the time we reached the #1 Café in the Southern Outer Reaches – the one that was really just the Fin-Fan Factory cafeteria, I thought I was prepared.  Armed with my trusty bucket, my mop, my brush, my soap, and wearing my dependable blood waders.  I’d even found a matching jacket that covered my arms as well as a hat and mask.

But I was also exhausted.  Tired, hungry, and unaccustomed to such work.  Luckily, my hearth spirit could just heal the fatigue.  I hadn’t even known that was a thing until I tried.  Pretty obvious once I thought of it, though.  I also noticed that as I kept murdering, and cleaning, and healing… that was I was getting stronger.  Faster.  Much less out of breath.  Even my belly was shrinking a little.

Which is why I thought I was ready for anything.

Maybe even the chance to grab a few dozen plates of food.

Except the cafeteria was a minefield.

Not just because when we walked in, a few hundred savran turned to look at us – an entire room full of dead silent, staring snake eyes that glowed in the ever-present steam.  Full of potential assassins trying to kill Eris and destroy any chance I might have of grabbing a snack and a break.  But what was worse… there was no way to hide their deaths.

No useful rooms with doors and water spraying systems.

Or filled with loud and clanky machinery and super thick steam.

Or trees already covered in blood and sprouting from rivers of gore.

Yet, as I’ve said, adaptation is the secret to survival.

And death always survives.

It helped that Horus and Eris were oblivious as they took their seats – at a table already prepared for them.  As their food was served – strangely late and cold.  They didn’t even notice when their server kept changing – rotating through at least a dozen different savran as their 15-course lunch was served.  Or how the room slowly began to thin out.  And not just because the others were forced to return to work.

They just smiled at each other stupidly, chatted about something that must have been very fucking interesting – but I never got to hear – and sampled delicacies prepared by a culinary genius.  The second coming of Dionysus as far as I was concerned.

Not that I got to try any of it.

Because I spent the whole time killing the staff.

Neutralizing the extremely potent poisons in Eris’ dishes and the equally strong aphrodisiacs in Horus’.  And when that proved ineffective… hunting the kitchen staff one by one and until any traitors had been thoroughly exterminated.  The assassins got desperate after that.  They started attacking directly.  Inside the gods damned cafeteria.

What about all the blood, you might ask.

How did you hide their deaths, you might ask.

Simple.  I used my shields.  But in a new way.

They formed bubbles naturally, protecting the person tucked away inside.  Of course, I could smash them flat into a circular barrier and crush the savran against floors and walls.  But that also made a huge mess.  The blood spray was extreme, as I mentioned.  And the harder parts like bones and weapons often destroyed furniture and left marks in the walls.  Not to mention how it ground the flesh deep into wood and fabric where it was harder to clean.  Even when I soaked it with steam and soap.

Then a question occurred to me.  My shields could surround a person, that was certain.  But what if I shrunk the shield while someone was still inside?  That should stop the blood spray, right?  In fact, the solution was utterly perfect.

The savran compressed down to a crimson sphere about two feet wide.  No blood spray.  No property damage.  I could even dispose of several at once.  And a side perk was that any thrown weapons or attacks were also blocked… but from the inside!  Then I could just float the sphere through the kitchen and use the huge “composting bin” in the alley.  It was already full of other corpses and mangled body parts anyway.  Simple, easy clean up.

Although, naturally, hiding a two-foot wide floating sphere of blood and body parts is no easy feat.  But my shields also glowed gold, didn’t they?  And if I could control the shape and pressure, could I also adjust the brightness?  Or the opacity?

Apparently, the answer was yes.

So, I locked those two lovesick idiots behind glowing panels of solid gold.  A private dining experience, I told them.  To ensure their privacy, I said.

And they bought it.  As I said, they were very distracted.

Engaged in their “battle of the genitals.”

That plan worked well for the rest of the afternoon.  And any accident or stray killing blow or collateral damage could be dealt with my trusty mop and brush.  And when I realized the limits of my own two paws… a few explicit threats to the locals.  It turns out the savran were an industrious and cold hearted race.  They would sell out their sister to save their own scales.  But they were good with their claws.  Also, steam cleaning most surfaces.

I was almost starting to relax again – to think that I’d finally won.

But then we arrived at the main event.

“Nyx Tower,” it read.  The sign hanging ten stories up and built of glowing green spines.  Visible for dozens of miles around.  The rest of the tower went much further up, cresting the perpetual cloud cover and plunging up into clear air.

And at the very tippy top was a palatial room.  One ringed with floor to ceiling windows with a view that swept out toward the horizon.  Bamboo as far as the eye could see.  Mist puffing overtop that huge forest, pulsing and throbbing – occasional muted screams echoing softly against the glass, audible now that the factory had wound down for the evening.

Twilight had also reached the Five Rivers.  The twin suns drifting down toward the horizon, the waning light reflecting off the sparkling waters of Cocytus—

“Are those... corpses in the water?” Eris murmured, her eyes on the river.

I started and whirled.  Oh shit, she was right.  Were those my corpses?

“They look like sea serpents.  Many serpents,” Horus offered, shooting me a glance, his eyes pulsing an ominous white.  Another empty threat.

Great.  Now both of them were looking!  Except I wasn’t responsible for that, so it was probably safe.  It had nothing to do with Horus… or me.

“Ahh, yes, we have an infessstation.  Or had an infessstation,” our server hissed.

Technically, he was our third.  The first two never made it to the table.

The one situated inside this palatial and surprisingly empty dining room.  Decorated with gleaming metal utensils, pristine white napkins, and a vase holding the petals of a blood fruit tree.  Unfortunately, it seemed our hosts hadn’t thought to include a third placement.  Or a chair.  Or even a snack.  Which didn’t bother me at all.

That I just had to stand there beside the table with my mop and bucket, my pack slung over my shoulder, my waders cinched tight, and my face tucked away by an extra-strength welding mask I’d borrowed from the smelting factory.

Not that Horus or Eris even noticed.

“Here are a few heart fruit pastries to start – our staff heard they’re your favorite,” the server said, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of murderous intent and hero worship as she nodded at Horus, who frowned in confusion.

Probably because he’d never said anything.

I swallowed hard.  Oh shit.  Oh shit.  Oh shit.  One slipped past me.

I knew this would happen eventually.  I wasn’t at my best.

After all, we’d been to two restaurants, a fish canning factory, a blood fruit orchard, and their vinification factory.  I’d killed and cleaned my way through a picnic.  A lunch.  Ten different samplings.  Two full meals with many, many courses.  Disposed of and purged and inspected dozens of dishes that had all made it to their table.

And I hadn’t eaten a single thing.

So, it was simple hunger that did me in.

An inevitable, unfortunate mistake.  One I couldn’t fix.

Not inside this room made entirely of windows where I couldn’t rationalize blocking the view.  Not with the server this close, her pupils dilating out into huge saucers as she watched Eris snatch a pastry and inspect it in fascination.  Or as my ears twitched – picking up the sound of the elf’s stomach growling.  There was no way my arsenal of cleaning supplies could prevent the inevitable.  The poison from touching those lips.

Of course, it was futile.  Pointless.  Her spirit would purge the toxins instantly.  But she would notice.  Would start asking questions. 

Like why was the wait staff trying to kill her—

A blur of movement and something knocked the pastry aside.

Three small, robed figures were suddenly standing beside the table.  The server whirled with a snarl, showing her sharp teeth… only to freeze.  One of those strange, tiny figures raised a paw that I definitely didn’t recognize and gave a chitter.  But the lizard woman apparently did.  Her scales suddenly drained of color, turning a pale gray.  Then she slowly backed away, stuttering and slurring out many excuses as she beat a hasty retreat.

“What is this?  What’s going on?” Eris demanded, a concerning amount of focus returning to her eyes.  It had been too long since she’d last eaten.  The drugs – the safe ones – were wearing off.  “Who are you three?”

I held my breath as one of the hooded trio pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Eris with a bow.  The elf’s eyes skimmed the page as she read aloud, “We are your special concierge attendants for the evening.  However, we are unable to speak – to help maintain silence during your visit.  We noticed a quality issue with the pastries and we will be baking a fresh batch.  In the meantime, please enjoy a sample of our new sparkling friendship juice.”

As she finished reading, the other two set down glasses for Horus and Eris and poured a fizzy red liquid into each.  I noticed they each had a number painted in red on the back of their robes.  #2 and #3 they said.  I peered at them as they neared, but couldn’t quite see their faces beneath the deep cowls, just the hint of… whiskers?

Yet Eris seemed to buy it.  She took a sip and her eyes sparkled with joy.  “This… this is fabulous.  And the view is just exquisite,” she sighed, sinking back into her seat and spinning slowly as she took in the view.

Even Horus slowly began to relax, sipping at his own drink.

Meanwhile, my eyes were on the trio, standing in formation – utterly silent.

They noticed me watching and they all pointed at the doorway.  The one entrance and exit to this palatial room.  It seemed safe to leave those two idiots alone.

So, I followed them out into the hallway.

And as the door slid shut, they pulled back their hoods to reveal ratkin faces.  My shields popped into existence in an instant, encircling all three.  Yet they didn’t make a move.  Just waited and watched me with those eerie, enormous, blood-red eyes.  Which is why I hesitated.  Just long enough to notice all the bodies in the hall.  The savran twitching and their mouths open and straining but making no sound.  Not dead.  Paralyzed, I realized.

The air also carried the faint whiff of toxic gas, glowing a faint green.  It was almost nostalgic.  It reminded me of weeks spent lounging in languid oblivion beside an emerald lake—My eyes shot back to the trio.  Which meant these three must be…

They just nodded in unison, seeming to anticipate my question.

Then one handed me another note.

“Dear Ms. Death,” it began.

It—it was addressed to me!?

My eyes skimmed the contents rapidly and then shot back to the trio.

“Is… is this real?  He wants me to help him?”

They all nodded in unison again.

“And in exchange, he’s willing to help stop the LaWD fans?  Even offer a reward?”

Three more nods.  This just seemed too good to be true.

“What is an all-you-can-eat buffet?” I asked hesitantly.

It was still difficult to hope; difficult to dream.

Except those red eyes gleamed with a ravenous ferocity that resonated with something deep within me.  The promise of sweet, delicious, delectable food.   But not confined to one helping.  A single plate.  Or two.  Or even a dozen.  But all I could possibly eat.  Was there even a limit?  I wasn’t certain.  I always ran out of food first, long before I wished to stop.

And if… if this was real.  Could I finally realize my dream?

Would this finally be enough to kill death?

When I looked up again, the three of them were staring back – those unholy messengers of the shadows.  The adorable emissaries of an ever-hungry dark god.  Their heads all cocked at the same angle.  All asking the same implied question.

“Oh, I’m in,” I growled – my stomach roaring its approval.  “What does he need?”

They grinned in feral delight, revealing rows of jagged, dripping fangs.

And then they handed me a second letter… this time with instructions.