I was getting desperate. A quick sweeping search of the dance floor had turned up nothing. No new corpses, no half a person with something else filling in the other side. I was in the process of asking all the bouncers if they’d seen anything weird leave the nightclub.
The latest of which was a large man with what I thought was probably an ironic anchor-mom tattoo, considering the anchor was made to look like a balloon which wouldn’t weigh anything down. He stared me down before saying, “I see a lot of stuff that you might consider weird but for me is just an average tuesday.”
“Anyone who looks half normal, half weird creepy thing?” I asked while practically bouncing on the spot with nervousness. “Like a real elaborate costume?”
“There’s a regular, Jonathan, who always wears the most ridiculous shit and tries to get in. Last time he was a walking roast pig wearing a crown of gold. He must work in film ‘cause it was super realistic, and the time before that-”
My desire to stop people from getting stabbed managed to override my fear of upsetting the man by walking out in the middle of his story. I descended back down the stairs to the nightclub.
Both exits were clear, unless it managed to use some staff exit I don’t think it escaped this place.
There was nothing to it then, I’d have to do another sweep and hope something changed. I stopped as my eyes settled on someone on the dance floor. Not the Cloven, but something that made my heart drop all the same. Short blond hair, a smile that chilled me to the bone. I’d just gotten a glimpse before the moving bodies obscured him. There’s no way he just so happens to be here, there’s no wayyyyy.
Deep down I knew there was a chance I’d run into him again, but I had wanted to keep pretending he’d been killed by Aaron after he had slit my throat.
I jumped as someone touched my shoulder, only for it to be Zola.
“I think I found it,” he said, panting. “In the bathroom.”
“Same one?”
“No. Other side of the club, the one accessibility toilet in this place. People were complaining that someone had been in there for a long time. They told me they got a staff to open the door and kick whoever was in there out, but the staff member went in and never came back out.
“Okay, that’s good. We can trap it in there.”
Zola and I waded through the crowd to get to the washroom.
“Someone’s still in there,” a person sitting in a small foldable chair said with an annoyed expression on their face. It seemed most people had given up on using this one, resigning themselves to joining the long lines to the other restrooms.
I gave the door an experimental push and found it was unlocked.
“Oh,” the person said, baffled, “but there is someone in there.”
Zola and I exchanged a look and he stepped in front of the person, blocking their view as I cautiously entered.
Slowly, I pushed the door, getting a view of the bathroom inch by inch. There were a few spatters of blood on the wall, but no bodies. Something had hit the mirror, creating a crater zone of many cracks, with one crack reaching all the way up to the top right corner. The sink was running and something must have been jamming the drain because the water was spilling over the sides of the basin, making the floor wet. I kept pushing until the door knocked against the wall, sounding loud in the small space.
The door to the stall at the far end of the bathroom was closed. I didn’t see any feet, but there was a steady drip of blood down to a growing pool around the base of the toilet. I stepped inside, letting the door swing closed. Some clothing rustled in reaction to the sound.
Then the sound of quiet crying emanated from the stall. I shivered. It would have sounded real if not for the repetition, the same amount of breath drawn between each sob, the same timing, like a metronome. It was trying to draw in its next victim.
I took a step and realized it would be impossible to not make noise on the wet tiled floor. Alright, as aggressive as the last, then.
Taking two long strides, I stomped against the stall door and it banged open, smacking the far wall before coming back towards me. The crying stopped, but instead of screaming or shouting like a regular person, there was only silence. I leaned to the side to view the toilet. It was perched on the seat, clutching the body of the staff member to its chest, cradling it like a baby. Another woman was impaled to the wall by a black spike. This one had silvery bones, with a skull that had thin vertical striations instead of eyes, ending at the bottom with a hooked jaw that looked more insect-like than human. Spikes of shiny obsidian encrusted the silver leg and arm.
The moment I saw it, it leapt off the toilet, reaching out for me. I backed up, Shaping armour and creating an axe-head weapon out of bone. No sense changing the strategy. Attack the human side until it was weak enough to absorb without risking getting killed.
The spiked arm supported it as it exited the stall, the black points sinking into the thin metal door. It used this to keep standing even under the added weight of the body it held in its grasp. I felt sick, looking at the man, entirely devoid of colour, looking like every last drop of blood had left his body. He was just doing his job. I’d seen dead people before, but the way his limbs flopped around as the Cloven carried him in front like a human shield… I couldn’t handle it. If this was a ploy to unnerve me it was fucking working.
It took another step and its altered leg skidded a bit on the wet floor. I lunged forward but also slipped, only catching hold of the body. It let it go and I fell with it, staring into the lifeless eyes of the corpse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement and rolled, splashing water as a bloody spike slammed into the floor.
I got up as the flooding reached the pool of blood in the stall, absorbing and dispersing it, turning the floor a murky brown.
The one eye of the Cloven watched me carefully. What other schemes would it have? I had to end this here.
Then the door opened and someone stepped through.
I didn’t turn, the Cloven wouldn’t miss that chance. “Zola, is that you?” I asked.
An amused voice responded, “Is this a bad time?”
I moved instinctively away from the door, a pang in my neck, like my body remembered. The Cloven twitched, its eye darting between the two of us. The blood of its victims dripped from its long thorny arm.
“This is a new look for you, Nick. You almost match with this one.”
I couldn’t control my breathing. It felt like at any moment this room would collapse in on itself, trapping me in what felt like an invasive dream. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t turn my head to look.
“It’s nice to know I left an impression on you, even after some time has passed. Still hunting monsters without me?”
“Ch-chase.”
“That’s my name.”
“Don’t interfere. Let me do this.”
“What makes you think I would?” he feigned sounding hurt. “Ah, no hard feelings about the car crash, I’m glad things worked out the way they did. All’s well that ends well, right?”
The Aberrant lunged at him, kicking up a spray of water. I moved out of instinct, then stopped, unable to make myself help him.
Chase ducked and rolled out of the way. The Aberrant carried forward, slamming into the door and somehow managing to hook it open with its scrabbling. It darted outside.
I stared at Chase, who sat in the water, smiling at me. Why hadn’t he used his power? Then he stood and walked towards me, hands raised like he was surrendering. I pointed the axe-head that protruded from my hand at him. “Don’t fucking come near me, Chase.”
“Or what?” he asked, grinning sadistically. “You can’t do anything to me. That new body of yours means nothing. Go ahead and try.”
But his posture was strange. He was practically cringing, his shoulders raised up as he approached with his hands raised in front of him. It wasn’t lining up. He was afraid to come near me. What on earth is happening?
His fingers touched the axe head, then pulled back, like he was waiting to see what I would do. I couldn’t think. This has to be a bad dream. But it wasn’t from Nell this time. She was distracted by something.
Then Chase wrapped his fingers around the blade, hard. It should have drawn blood. But it didn’t. I stared at the fingers grasping the sharp end like it was nothing. Fingernails that shimmered in the dim fluorescent lighting. Slender, that made sense for Chase, but these were not his fingers. These were Zola’s.
I raised my eyes and Chase was gone. Zola stood before me, his face drenched in sweat, eyes wide with fear. “I am not that person. Snap out of it, Nick,” he begged. “Please.”
My arm slumped to my side as the armour receded. “What…” I said, throat feeling dry.
“I do not know. I have no answers for you. But the Aberrant is out there. We can worry about what this means after it is destroyed.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You are the only person here who can handle it.”
“Even though I’m fucking hallucinating?” I whispered.
“Yes. I have faith in you, Nick. You are a good person. Now go.” He gave me a push towards the door.
I staggered out of the restroom. The person on the foldable chair was still there, but their face was pale and they had their phone out, typing on it with shaking fingers.
“Which way did it go?” I asked.
They pointed towards the dance floor.
Of course. My hesitation would cost lives. I should have just ended this, negotiations be damned. That weight felt heavy on my shoulders.
“Stop!” I yelled. “There’s a monster! A murderer! It’s killing people!”
Those closest to me stopped dancing, giving me weird looks, but while some decided to leave, many exchanged amused words with their friends and then kept dancing.
I tried to raise my volume over the music. “Murderer!” My voice caught, unused to being this loud. “Everyone needs to…” I trailed off. It was right there. The silvery bones caught the light better than the first Cloven. I started to move through the crowd, shoving those who got in my way. I would brawl in the middle of the dance floor if I had to.
“Nick, stop.”
I stopped briefly, turning in surprise to see Nell. Then I shook my head and kept going.
“Nick!” Zola called out, having caught up to me somehow. I ignored him. My eyes were solely on the flashes of silver I spotted through shifting waves of dancers.
“Nick.”
I froze again. That was my mom. There’s no way in hell… But there she was, standing on the dance floor in her normal clothes, staring at me in alarm, like I was the one who was out of place.
“There is no way that you’re real,” I croaked out the words.
“Nick, you need to come home. It’s an emergency.”
I shook my head and started forward again. It didn’t matter. Even if she was actually here, I wouldn’t stop. Too many innocents had died already. Nell was busy. I had to do this alone.
Suddenly, every face I saw was someone I knew. My dad, dancing near the Aberrant. Tom was close to the DJ booth. Even two of my middle school teachers were here grinding against each other.
I connected the dots, later than I should have. “Ah. I finally get it,” I said. “This is you. You’re here. Helen, the Ghost Queen.”
All of the people started to speak at once.
“Nick! Come here!”
“Don’t do it, Nick! You’re acting crazy.”
“Help me. I’m dying.”
I glued my eyes to the floor. They’re not real. But it was too distracting. I couldn’t keep looking at the faces of people I cared about as they were puppeteered to say things that would tug on my heartstrings.
I moved forward, no longer sure if I was heading in the right direction. Splashes of neon drink stained the floor in different colours, green, purple, and blue.
“You’re hallucinating, Nick. The monsters aren’t even real,” my mom told me.
“Come here right now!” my dad shouted, making me flinch, my body stiffening instinctively. I’d only ever heard him raise his voice a few times in my life. Each one had stuck in my memory like a thorn.
My eyes stayed down. Black splotches overlaid the other stains, making for a stark contrast in the blacklight. Blood stood out opposite to the colourful drinks, seeming to absorb the U.V. rays emitted from the lights, leaving it black as tar. I realized something.
“None of this is even real,” Kay whispered in my ear.
That wasn’t true. I wasn’t dreaming. And there was one thing that I was for sure not going to mistake as a friend. The Aberrant. I started forward with purpose, eyes locked onto the trail of blood stains. I rushed forward like a bull, knocking into people with my lowered head and shoulders, sometimes physically shoving people so I could see the next breadcrumb in the trail.
The voices battered against me, each one of them sparking a signal in my brain that urged me to respond. I know that person. I should do what they ask.
“Nope, nope, nope,” I muttered.
I would apologize later, to any that were real, but this was the right path. My confidence restored and I took a final step, the fresh blood smearing under my shoe. My head rose and I caught the Cloven, thin wrist and skeletal limb each. I pressed close, my shirt already in tatters from the fight with the last half.
It responded. Not with a scream or a struggle. But with one final trick. The gnarl of ribs snapped open like a bear trap, the curved stakes of bone stabbing into me.
I took it in, coughing blood onto its shoulder. Others were staring at us, perhaps seeing glimpses of reality through the drinks they had drank and the spinning lights and the waves of loud music. It didn’t take much to dispel that. I rocked back and forth as I ate, giving the Cloven one more fresh experience before its annihilation. I lead it through the steps, its leg skittering on the hard floor.
We danced a slow dance until I danced alone.
The faces around me were no longer familiar. The Witch had stopped.
As I made my way back to the upper observation deck, where Sullivan and the others seemed to be coming to the end of their discussion, a fresh wave of memories came rushing in. I stopped to watch some paramedics run past carrying a stretcher.
It evoked a memory of Cinthia’s. Sitting in a hospital, holding the hand of someone she cared deeply for as medical personnel moved around her periphery like rustling ghosts. I still didn’t have any answers as to why I absorbed the memories. But it was about time that I tried to put them to use.
I continued to sift, taking great care with each one, giving it the respect of feeling the emotions that Cinthia had felt.
Reaching the second floor, Nell was walking away from the table as some of the others were rising up and putting on their jackets. Sullivan remained seated.
“Did it work out?” I asked quietly.
“The Wide Eyes leader holds deep grudges and deals in spite. Luckily I’m well versed in spite. Got him thinking about how good it would feel to pull the Jiezhi into what they so pridefully believe they are above.” She shrugged. “Louis wasn’t interested. He seems to think he’ll be fine on his own. Somehow I think he has other provisions. One of the other sides might have reached him first.”
I nodded. “Some of his lackeys mentioned the Ghost Queen making moves. Speaking of, she was here.”
Nell’s eyes widened. “Shit, really?”
“She tried to stop me from killing the Aberrants. Makes me think that the entire thing was designed to mess with the meeting.”
“Why would she do that when she could have just attacked the Ring leaders directly?” Nell wondered aloud.
“It could be because you were there. I think she’s scared of dealing with you directly.”
“You look shaken up,” Nell said, creasing her brow. “Sorry I couldn’t be there.”
I shook my head. “The more I think about it, the more I believe that her power would make you look like someone else too. Because it’s not technically affecting you, it’s me, seeing someone else. So the rule about Witches being immune to other Witches wouldn’t apply.”
Nell frowned and tilted her head. “You’ve got something else going on.”
I paused as I had the incredibly odd sensation that came with remembering the memory of another person with myself in it. “Yup, gimme a sec, I think I might’ve just found what I was looking for.”
Not the times that Cinthia had spoken to me, but in between them. After she had left the upper floor for the first time. This was it. Cinthia vaguely recalled walking around the nightclub, looking for someone who would give her relief. One of the kids she was working with had been brutally killed by a family member. She wanted to forget the look that was on the mother’s face when she got the phone call. But the alcohol wasn’t enough. She needed something-
“How did it go?” a voice asked her.
She turned to see a tall, beautiful woman. She had been the one to tell Cinthia about the VIPs that were currently here.
“No luck with that guy,” Cinthia said, slurring her words. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
The woman tossed her blond hair over her shoulder, making her hoop earrings dangle side to side. “Okay. Did you ask him where he lives? Or what the VIPs were talking about?”
Cinthia laughed. “Noooo. That’s creepy. I just want something to make me forget about this.”
“Hmm. Fine.” The woman who I knew was Helen dug around in her purse and withdrew a vial of Dice. She shook it and handed it to Cinthia.
Cinthia squinted at it. Clear fluid, like it was just water.
“What is this? Heroin? I don’t want that.”
“It’s not. It’s a new drug. It’ll make you feel good, I promise.”
Cinthia longed for a taste of oblivion. But this was only her second time talking to this woman.
“Can you do that trick again?” she asked. “Please?”
The woman’s lip curled in disgust for a moment, before turning into an entirely different face. It was the same one as the memory from the hospital.
Cinthia hugged her, breathing in deeply. “I miss you.”
“There there, honey.” The voice soothed her. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”
Cinthia let herself be injected, watching the plunger push the fluid into her veins.
Helen’s face and voice returned, watching Cinthia closely. “Now go, play with the people at the table up there.”
“Is that your real face?” Cinthia asked, half delirious.
Helen definitely had a ‘face card’. The kind of face that would open many doors as long as you were willing to bear the lecherous gazes of creepy men in powerful places. “It is,” she admitted. “I dislike my masks. They say ‘give a man a mask and you will see his true face’, but I am unfortunately only good at making people see the masks of others.” She steadied Cinthia’s shoulders, examining her while feeling like she was looking straight through her, like she was just an object. “I would much rather rip the faces off of everyone in this shitty city, so that everyone could see what I’ve been looking at this whole time.”
With that she shoved Cinthia off, to stumble into the darkness. I squeezed my hands together hard enough to leave marks where the fingernails pressed down, pulling myself out of the recollection. I didn’t want to experience how it felt to turn.
“We’ll take our leave,” Nell told Sullivan. “Remember your promise. Leave us alone unless you really need us.”
He nodded, seeming distracted with whatever plans he was devising.
Cinthia’s memory was blurred by drink, but I at least had gotten something useful. A glimpse at Helen’s true face. And a glimpse at her odious morals.