Enter the Janitor (The Cleaners) (Volume 1)

by Josh Vogt

  Her mind collided with the presence. Her senses submerged into darkness. Dani groped for direction, floating in a lightless ocean.

  Not total darkness, she realized after a few moments. The subtlest purple flames licked the edges of her vision. Massive shapes teased her sense of dimension, like planets carved out of a black void orbiting her. And lurking in it all, a crouched figure. Its unblinking gaze settled on her.

  Swallowing, Dani determined to confront this head-on. She couldn’t stop it from happening, so might as well face whoever or whatever had brought her here. She willed herself to move closer and felt some small delight when her disembodied self responded accordingly.

  Yet the instant she eased toward the figure, it sprang away. The dark heavens reeled. When the twisted space oriented itself once more, the distance between her and her captor had increased. It remained just beyond her ability to pick out any details aside from a general hunched shape.

  She scowled. “Hey, you brought me here. Quit playing coy.”

  Waves of raw emotion thrummed out from her observer and drilled into her. The intensity of the feelings washed through her bones and left her shaking. Wariness. Hunger. Longing. Despair. Fear.

  This last one had her do a mental double-take. Did it … he … fear her? How could that be possible, when it possessed such strength?

  The emotions faded, leaving her more scattered than before. Why had she been pulled into this place?

  “Can you talk?” she asked.

  The figure vanished. The moment it did, its presence loomed behind her, close enough for its breath to tremble her hair. Heart pounding, she remained perfectly still. Cold fingers brushed her neck.

  “Sydney? If this is you, you’ve earned yourself several swift kicks with a steel-toed boot.”

  The fingers withdrew, yet the presence remained. She envisioned herself standing in the middle of a midnight jungle while a lion stalked the edges of shadow.

  “Who are you? Are you here to help me?”

  Emotional waves slapped against her. Trapped. Confinement. Alone.

  “Yes,” she said, trying to separate her thoughts and emotions from its. “I’m trapped. I need help. To get free.”

  Desperation. Searching. Hopelessness.

  Dani tried to buffer herself against the alien feelings, but they slipped in and infected hers nonetheless. Maybe her situation was hopeless. Everyone had abandoned her. She might as well give up and wait for whatever came. Why keep fighting?

  “Please stop,” she said, fighting tears. “If you can’t help, at least let me talk to someone who can.”

  A hand shoved her forward. The void stripped away and her awareness slammed back into her body. She jerked, lost her balance, and toppled off the ledge. Her back and head slammed into the floor, while her legs remained caught over the edge. As she groaned and rubbed her head, she glanced at the ceiling. She froze.

  The mirrored ceiling had changed. It now showed a familiar pristine office, where a white-suited figure sat behind a desk, paging through endless forms. Destin paused in the middle of his note-taking and cocked his head. He looked up and stared straight at her.

  “Ms. Hashelheim?” he asked. “How?”

  “Uh … good question.” She struggled for breath, thoughts frazzled from the chaotic brush with the … person … thing … whatever. Words came out bumpy, and she had to think things over twice before making sure they made sense. “Need help.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Someplace. With Cleansers. Trapped.”

  His shoulders tensed. “Cleansers? Did Benjamin take you there?”

  “No. Not him. We were … tricked. Sydney.”

  Destin jolted, as if physically shocked—the first overt reaction she’d seen on his part.

  “Why did Ben not alert us to Sydney’s presence?”

  “Did,” Dani said. “Francis. Reported.”

  Destin’s eyes glittered. “Tell me everything that’s happened since we last met. Leave nothing out.”

  Haltingly, she told of their encounter with Sydney at the bar. She detailed Stewart’s divination, of the new, dual-natured member of the Pantheons. Next came their escape into the sewers and abduction by Sydney. With each detail, Destin’s face hardened, until it looked carved from alabaster. Fury flashed in his eyes, and she waited for his pen to snap in his grip.

  At the end, however, he said only, “I see. Most disturbing.”

  Destin stood and circuited his desk. When he returned to his chair, he sat with the poise of one ready to sprint out of the room the moment they finished talking.

  “I am sorry, Dani. Ascendant Francis has made an error of judgment in this instance.”

  “Uh … thanks?” Not exactly what she needed to hear, as it didn’t help her current situation.

  Destin scratched notes on a pad. “I need to pin your location down. Are there any landmarks or details you can identify for me? Something seen or heard before they deposited you in this prison?”

  Dani scrunched her forehead in thought. “Urmoch,” she said after a minute. “Near an urmoch nest.”

  He frowned. “Unfortunately, those are not as uncommon as we would like. It will narrow it some, but is there anything else?”

  A headache grabbed the base of Dani’s neck and started squeezing. Dani scowled against this, resisting the urge to close her eyes and slip back to sleep.

  “Leader. Named Marcus.”

  In a flicker of motion, Destin had a folder open in his hands and flipped to a page. “Marcus? Now that’s a name—”

  Destin’s image rippled and his voice silenced. The disturbance increased, chopping up the scene into fragments that melted away. His concerned face flashed before her once more, and his voice wavered in and out.

  “Stay with—ani. I—need … know … verything that—”

  Her reflection slapped back into place. A second later, the ceiling evaporated into glimmering steam, revealing a level above her cell. Robed Cleansers stood on the edges, staring down at her. Marcus stepped into view, and the white wall he stood atop melted into a series of sloped steps, like a limestone cave formation. Marcus descended this, steam rising from each footstep.

  As he entered the room, Dani struggled to her feet and braced against the slab she’d been sleeping on. Once he reached the bottom, Marcus spreads his arms as if expecting a hug.

  “All is prepared,” he said. “It is time.”

  She raised a fist for a feeble strike. He caught her arm and pulled her into his embrace. The mint smell from before rose about her as if he’d bathed in it. Just a sniff of it sent her thoughts fluttering into the distance, and she sagged against his chest.

  “Rest, sister,” he whispered. “What comes next will require all of your strength.”

  Dani opened her mouth to retort, but drew in another lungful of vapor.

  Her consciousness puffed away before she remembered exhaling.

  ***

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ben’s mind exploded with incomprehensible shapes. Inverted faces watched him speed by as he held onto the cold knot of power that was Filth. Unearthly winds buffeted him, threatening to scrape the skin from his bones. Whole worlds whipped past, too quickly for him to do anything but sense their immensity before they vanished into the distance.

  Then a sudden lurch and tearing sensation, as if he struck a filmy barrier that ripped beneath his weight. Gravity, noise, and sight reintroduced themselves as he tumbled several yards and sprawled flat. Splashing ebbed away while an oily substance dribbled down his collar and up his sleeves and pant legs.

  Filth crouched over him, her bag lady facade making him feel like he was a trash bin she wanted to rummage through. Jagged fingernails punctured the rotted flesh of his right arm. He gritted his teeth against the agony of it.

  Her corpse-breath huffed in his face. “That … was … foolish. I could kill you with a thought for the impertinence.”

  This close, staring into her eyes was like seeing
the spinning blades of a garbage disposal, waiting for him to be shoved in head-first.

  “Was gonna be dead here or dead there,” he managed. “There was borin’ me, so I figured a change of scenery might at least keep things interestin’.”

  As she studied him, figures moved nearby, slinking through whatever muck Ben lay in. Without moving his head, Ben watched the newcomers from the corners of his eyes. They were feline in general shape, the same way chainsaws were shaped like butter knives. They appeared to have clown masks over their muzzles with pointed ears twitching above painted faces. Slime dripped from elongated paws, and they mewled to each other in a garbled language that teased the edges of comprehension—though he hardly wanted to know what they said.

  Filth shoved him down to push herself up. As she moved away, Ben sat up, holding his wounded arm to his stomach. He got his first good look at the realm they’d landed in.

  This pocket reality—what he assumed it to be, at least—had been shaped into a facsimile of a homeless camp, with one side bordered by an oil-slick ocean full of flotsam, and the other a crumbling wall that jutted with sewer pipes and rusted grates. Reeking puddles, like the one Ben sprawled in, dotted the ground in between mounds of burning dung heaps, where humanoid forms huddled and shivered together.

  Filth’s kittens prowled around him. Their paws slurped with each step. Not true cats, he realized with a sour burp. The knees bent in the wrong direction, and the front paws were hands, though with red-stained curling fingernails. Their visages weren’t masks but distorted human faces that stretched into various expressions, switching between taut grins, exaggerated frowns, and bared fangs that glistened with green ichor.

  Filth hobbled over to the nearest pipe and cupped a hand under the purple flow chugging from it. After lapping up a few swallows, she licked her lips and eyed Ben sidelong. Smirking, she came back over and offered him the full bowl of her palm. Pale worms wriggled in the ooze.

  “Thirsty?” she asked.

  Her kittens mewled louder, as if they craved the drink she offered.

  He patted his paunch. “Got any diet sody-pop? I’m tryin’ to watch the weight.”

  She flung the liquid into his face. As he knuckled a worm off an eyelid, he wondered if having women douse him twice in one day was a sign he needed to work on his etiquetteness. Naw. Must be a fluke.

  “It’s a pity,” Filth said, licking her fingers clean. “You once could’ve put up a decent fight and made my blood simmer. That’s something lacking in your world these days—true passion. Even you’ve lost the old fire. I can see it in your eyes. Gray as ash.”

  “Mebbe I am a bit chipped and cracked,” he said as goop dripped off his chin. “But just ’cause I’ve gone gray don’t mean there ain’t a sharp edge or two left.”

  She gripped his hair and bent his neck back painfully. “Tell me one thing you care about.” Once more, her eyes sucked him in, promising death in reward for a false answer.

  Ben grunted. “Dani. My apprentice.”

  Her eyes flashed with black depths. Ben suppressed a shiver. Getting into a staring contest with a Pantheon member was as productive as trying to stop an avalanche with a scolding finger wag.

  Filth backed up, and two of her pets flanked her, rubbing against her thighs. They purred as she scratched the folds of their necks, her barbed wire rings gouging flesh that bled green and white. Their too-human faces squeezed and stretched like putty.

  “If this girl is so important to you, why did you allow her to be taken from your care?”

  “Don’t everybody have the occasional bad day at work?” Ben asked. “I’m gonna fix the mess I’ve made, sure-for-shootin’.”

  Filth’s laughter jabbed his ears like a jagged blade. “You think you’re going to escape this place?”

  “You kiddin’? Me try to escape after you was so nice to invite me over for some neighborly chit-chat? That’d be downright impolite, don’t’cha think?”

  “Then how do you intend to return to the world to, as you so eloquently put it, fix your mess?”

  Ben forced himself to meet her eyes. “You’re gonna let me go.”

  She bent over double in mirth, clutching her stomach while her kittens nuzzled her, sniffing about as if wondering what strange fit had possessed their mistress. Her cackling went on for a full minute. When she straightened, black tears streaked her cheeks. She wiped at these and sucked the residue from her fingers.

  “Oh, you do amuse me, fleshling. Perhaps I’ll paint your face and make you my jester to prance and sing for my pleasure. Why, in all the realms, would I let you go?”

  “Well, that’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out.”

  Her lips curled into a lopsided grin, and Ben’s stomach flip-flopped at the lust he saw there.

  “Perhaps you do have some spark not yet smothered in those ashes,” she said. “Perhaps I should quench it.”

  “Naw. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “And why not?”

  “Gimme a few. I’m workin’ on that too. Things ain’t makin’ much sense right now.”

  Filth shook her head, flinging stringy hair about. “This is such entertainment. However, the moment you cease to make me smile, my pets will feast.”

  As one, all her kittens swung round to face Ben, faces stretched into demonic snarls. Their purring deepened into growls.

  Filth smiled. “So. Tell me more funny things, janitor.”

  “Funny, eh? I’m bettin’ you’ve heard the one about the chicken crossin’ the road. But mebbe there’s plenty of other funny business lately.” Joints popping, he eased to his knees, and then his feet. As he thought furiously, he kept one eye on Filth, the other on her kittens. Part of his mind had been fiddling with the tangled knot of events, and a few of the snarls loosened as he mentally tugged at them.

  “See, while I ain’t ever gonna know calculus like Dani does, I got enough marbles rollin’ around in this noggin to add things up, so long as I don’t gotta count past ten. Then the shoes come off.”

  Filth’s amused look faltered at the poor joke, but Ben blundered on before she could unleash her beasts.

  “Funny thing numero uno. Lotsa weird thingamajigs have been poppin’ up in the past couple of days, all of ’em split between Purity and Corruption, which ain’t ever happened before. Point B: We learn of a new Pantheon member, somehow pullin’ double-duty.”

  He watched Filth’s expression, which became more wooden with each word. He sped up.

  “And number four: Sydney, your lapdog—”

  Filth swiped a hand. “He swears no allegiance to me, nor does he draw a single drop of power from my realm. Such a fawning sycophant.”

  “All righty. Then he’s the bootlickin’, butt-kissin’ servant of the rest of the Corrupt Pantheon. Whatever his deal, he shows up, ready to plop this new demigod into your lap, and you tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine. You coulda tipped the whole battle in your favor thisaway, but you acted like he’d called you durin’ dinner to see if you wanted to sign up for a subscription to Playboy. Almost like you ain’t wantin’ the new guy to be found.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “And what does it all mean, fleshling?”

  Ben let a crazy thought bounce around for a few breaths. If he was wrong, it couldn’t worsen his fate at this point. But if he was right …

  “While two wrongs ain’t gonna make a right, I’d say a buncha impossible facts can sure add up to an impossible sum.”

  She glared, hands raised to gesture her kittens to the feast.

  Ben pointed back at her. “You’re its mother.”

  Filth stared at him, raised hands now shaking. The kittens’ growling heightened into a whine. Filth stepped forward until she and Ben stood nose to nose, and the stench of her enveloped him. Her lips twitched, reminding him of the worms that infested the water she’d offered earlier.

  Then she collapsed against him and started sobbing.

  ***

  Chapter
Twenty

  Ben staggered beneath the sudden burden of a weeping goddess. He tried to hold her upright, but she weighed far heavier than she looked. He resorted to squatting and then a quick drop onto his butt where he could brace her without throwing his back out.

  He patted his pockets. “You want, I might got some tissues.”

  She curled up like an overgrown child, arms around his neck, legs across his thighs. The kittens sat on their haunches and joined in with howls and screeches that turned Ben’s bones to jelly, heightened by relieved trembling. The notion of Filth being a mother sure seemed crazy when he first thought it, but it made some twisted sense. The newcomer was a child, and every child had to come from somewhere, didn’t it? While some folks were known to spontaneously combust, there had never been a report of spontaneous conception.

  Well, ’cept for that one time …

  Filth’s oily tears stained his suit, and he prayed they wouldn’t eat through the material. He tried patting her back and rocking a bit, a halting lullaby or two, but realized how ridiculous it was. So he sat still and let Filth weep until her sobs turned to breathless hiccups. Her hair pulsed in time with her breaths as words broke through the cries.

  “That … wasn’t … funny…”

  Ben cleared his throat as strands of her hair kept knotting around his knuckles. “Ahum. I ain’t never been great at this whole consolin’ thing.”

  “Do you know what it’s like,” she said between sniffles, “to have to stand back and do nothing as your child is hunted down like a wild animal? How scared he must be …”

  “He?”

  She raised her face to his, eyes rimmed red, looking ancient and afraid. “I didn’t even have time to give him a name. I had to hide him the moment his powers manifested, and even then it wasn’t enough, was it? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “So we’re really talkin’ ‘bout a kid here. A babe in the Pantheon.”

  “You couldn’t have guessed,” she said. “You must have known all along. Which means many others know, and he’s still in danger. They all want him.”

  “There’s been a lil’ news runnin’ around, yeah. I was gonna try a summoning on my end, but Sydney beat me to it.”